He didn’t know why the man even wanted to have dinner with him. Something about Gift seemed to make Park feel troublesome, yet, every night, he was forced to come and sit and make awkward conversation about the one topic Park didn’t really seem to care about.
Gift.
It didn’t help that Park never truly looked at him. If anything, he looked through him—something people had done to him most of his life. He was used to it with his parents, but it hurt more with Park. Maybe it was the enormous crush Gift had developed on him since the day they’d met. He supposed it said a lot about him that the one and only crush he’d ever had was on a man who treated him like a huge imposition.
Just like his parents.
Gift supposed hewasa huge imposition to Park. It was no secret Gift was only accepted into the handler program as a favor. Gift’s parents had saddled Park with the task of keeping Gift safe. Park had then saddled the school with admitting Gift into the school as a condition of his employment.
His parents had nicknamed him Gift, but, really, he was just a burden. To everybody.
Especially Park.
Gift picked up his spoon and continued eating, stealing glimpses of Park when he could. It would have been easier to see Park as simply an older brother figure if he wasn’t so…hot. But he was. Frustratingly so. He had fierce dark eyes, perfect lips, and hair so dark brown it almost appeared black in the right lighting.
Like Gift, Park looked younger than his age, which was thirty-seven according to Gift’s mother. Park looked so young that he often tried to make himself look older by wearing wire-rimmed glasses and slicking his hair back. Maybe that was why he was always wearing suits and business casual.
The problem was, Gift had seen behind the curtain. Living with someone allowed a level of intimacy he’d never had before. He lived in the dorms now, but while he’d stayed at Park’s condo in Bangkok, he’d seen just how sexy Park was when he wasn’t even trying.
He’d seen Park stumbling from his bedroom to the kitchen in nothing but pajama pants that clung for dear life to narrow hips. He’d seen him half awake and groggy, sipping his coffee. He’d seen him barefoot with his hair freshly washed and curling over his forehead in a way that made him look almost as young as Gift.
Park was perfect.
Perfectly oblivious to Gift.
Time stretched as the silence between them grew until Gift couldn’t sit there another minute without wanting to peel off his own skin. He jerked to his feet, wincing as the chair legs dragged loudly over the tile floor. “I’ll be leaving first, then,” he said in Thai before hurriedly switching to English. “I need to shower before bed.”
Park seemed startled by Gift’s abrupt attempt to exit but stood as he always did, revealing black trousers that fit him like a glove, temporarily snagging Gift’s attention.
“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Park said, walking him to the door and opening it just enough for Gift to see the hallway but not escape to it.
No matter how awkward dinners were, the goodbyes were worse. So much worse. Park would hold the door for him and say, “Be good.” Then he would reach out and pat Gift’s head with a level of hesitation that made Gift’s insides shrivel with embarrassment.
Park hated him.
Still, Gift tried not to savor the moments when Park’s hand was on his hair. It was nothing to touch someone—at least, there in America—but Park’s touch made him crazy, his body reacting to every accidental caress like it was a kiss.
Which it wasn’t. Because Park would never. Ever. His gaze strayed to Park’s lips. He’d never even been kissed. Gift was going to die a virgin. But not quickly enough to put him out of his misery.
Gift was so busy with his internal pity party, he failed to register Park’s movement. When his palm came to rest on Gift’s head, he flinched, his chin coming up, knocking Park’s hand from his hair to his cheek. He sucked in a breath at the heat of Park’s skin on his face.
Park looked equally shocked, but he just stood there, cupping Gift’s face, as frozen as one of the statues that graced the halls outside. Gift stared at him, wide-eyed, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Park was staring at him, too—staring at him with an intensity that made his insides shiver and his pants feel too tight.
Park took a step towards him and Gift forgot how to breathe. What was happening? He swallowed hard. He could feel himself trembling. Park had never looked at Gift like that, had barely ever looked at him at all, and Gift was glad. If Park had ever looked at him like this when they’d lived together, Gift might have lost his mind and begged Park to be the one who took his virginity. Gift’s tongue darted out to lick over his lip and Park’s gaze fell to his mouth. Did he…?
Footsteps fell on the tile outside, breaking whatever spell they were under. Park stepped back, dropping his hand and swinging the door wide. “Goodnight, Kla.”
“Night,hia,” he managed breathlessly before bolting out the now open door.
Kla might mean brave, but Gift had never actually lived up to his name.
* * *
“What do you mean, he touched your cheek?” Dove asked, threading her fingers through Gift’s hair.
Now that Gift was back in the safety of his room, he felt like he could breathe again. He’d been grateful to find Payton sprawled on his bed. But he hadn’t been alone. Dove had sat on the edge of the small mattress, painting black polish onto Payton’s toenails.
“Just what I said,” Gift said with a sigh. “He was patting my hair and then I…flinched, and then his hand was on my face. His palm was touching my cheek and he was looking at me like...”
