Gift frowned. “What? What’s missing?”
Morgan snapped her fingers and lunged for Dove, grabbing the clasp of the string of pearls her friend wore without even asking. “This,” she cried triumphantly as it dropped into her hand.
She draped it around Gift’s throat. On him, it was almost a choker. When she was done, she stood back and admired her handiwork. Gift looked at his reflection in the mirror, his fingertips ghosting over the necklace’s smooth surface. Was it too much? Was this all way too much?
“I see you wavering,” Payton said. “This is why you’re still a virgin. You keep chickening out. Are you waiting for rose petals, champagne, and wedding bells? You said you wanted Park. If you want Park, you’re going to shock him out of his coma. Be bold. Be brave. Be honest.”
“Be slutty,” Dove added.
Gift sat heavily on the corner of his bed. “You don’t get it. I don’t know how to…talk to him. We just sit, eating in awkward silence, until I want to blow my brains out from boredom.”
“That’s why you have me.” A grin slid across Payton’s face. “Do you trust me?”
Gift frowned at him, shaking his head. “No. Not even a little bit.”
Payton’s grin made Gift’s stomach slippery. “I have an idea…”
* * *
The silence was more oppressive than usual, especially with Payton’s plan burning a hole in Gift’s brain. Could he do it? Would he? If he didn’t, Payton would probably stop helping him, but if he did it and it backfired, he might lose everything.
But what did he really even have at that point? What was the worst case scenario? Park sent him home where people were trying to kill him? Death would be less painful than sitting there in silence watching Park stare into his soup like he could divine his future in it.
It was so quiet that when Park cleared his throat, Gift literally jumped, his wildly beating heart tripping in his chest. Could Park see how nervous he was? Could he see the rapid rise and fall of his chest? Did he know how bad Gift wanted him?
“Did you do your homework, Kla?” he asked, voice softer than usual.
“Yes,hia,” he answered a little too quickly.
Park gave Gift a sharp look that made him squirm. “Even the paper for West’s class?”
Gift nodded. “Yes,hia,” he answered.
Park raised a brow. “What topic did you choose?”
Was he…testing him? “Emerging Threats and Countermeasures in the Era of Internet of Things,” Gift said in near perfect English, then smiled as if nothing had happened.
Was Gift hallucinating or did Park look just a little impressed? He also looked slightly suspicious. “Your English seems to be improving rapidly.”
Park had no idea. But he was about to. Gift was going to be sick, or maybe he was going to faint. But it was now or never. The questions always came before Park saw him out.
Payton said Park needed to be shocked out of his romantic coma. And this plan was the equivalent of taking those little paddles they used to shock people back into a normal heart rhythm and putting them directly over Park’s dick.
Time was running out. “Hia?” Gift said softly, biting the inside of his lip to distract from his leg bouncing triple time under the table.
Park lifted his head to look at him, frowning. “Yes?”
“Can I ask you something personal?” he asked in Thai, knowing full well what Park would say next.
“If you use your English, sure,” Park said, watching him with those warm whiskey eyes.
How was he so hot doing absolutely nothing? Gift was stalling. Were his palms sweating? He could do this. Hehadto do this. Just rip off the Band-Aid. If he wanted Park, Gift was going to have to live up to his name and be brave.
Gift rested his elbow on the table, resting his cheek in his palm, giving Park his most innocent expression. For a moment, Gift thought he would chastise him about his elbows on the table, but he seemed to get hung up looking at Gift for a long moment before seemingly snapping out of it.
Gift waited until Park took a sip from his water glass before asking, “When did you lose your virginity?” with only the barest hint of an accent.
Park erupted in a coughing fit, water sputtering everywhere as he stared at Gift incredulously, his face tomato red. “What did you—? Wait, where’s your accent? What is going on? Are you… Did you—”
