Page 39 of From Beijing, With Love

Daniel, for whatever reason, found this version of him endearing. “Take some pj’s from the closet, top drawer. No one is sleeping in my bed in outdoor clothes.”

Daniel expected a smart-ass retort, probably with a heavy dose of sarcasm, but Yang just shrugged and picked out a T-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms from the drawer. He must have really wanted to go to sleep, or he was just worn down by Daniel’s eccentricities. Or both.

When Yang returned from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, his hair was wet.

“I figured you’d want me to shower before getting in bed,” Yang said as he rubbed his hair with a towel. When their eyes met, he blushed. “To sleep.”

Daniel nodded dumbly, not able to take his stupid eyes off Yang as a drop of water dripped from Yang’s wet hair, down his temple, falling off the cliff of his jawline. Yang had showered for him. Consideration was apparently a huge turn-on for Daniel. Who knew? That, and the sight of Yang in Daniel’s faded maroon Universiteit van Amsterdam T-shirt and mulberry silk pajama pants.

Forcing himself to stop staring so the night wouldn’t be awkward, he mumbled a “Thanks” and escaped to the bathroom.

After a long and blisteringly hot shower where he definitely did not think about the man (considerate, clean, and in his pj’s) in his bed right at that moment, Daniel stepped out of the bathroom to find the lights off. Yang was curled up on the far edge of the bed with his back to him, his breaths soft with sleep.

Slipping into bed, Daniel drifted off to sleep with a goofy smile on his lips.

CHAPTER SEVENTEENYang

Yang opened his eyes to a faint blue glow in an otherwise pitch-black room. Where was he? As his brain played catch-up, the bed shifted under the weight of someone else. Yang shot up in bed with all the grace of a reanimated corpse.

“What’s wrong?” a familiar voice asked in English.

With adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Yang made out Daniel’s broad silhouette. Memories of the previous day came flooding in, including the kiss in the dark karaoke lounge and the feel of Daniel’s body with all its heat and wanting pressed against his on that tufted leather sofa. And now Yang was looking into those eyes—stripped of their usual golden and green hues—in the faint glow of a cell phone.

Yang shouldn’t be here, in the middle of the night, in Daniel’s bed with not enough distance between them. He didn’t do this. Not since …

Reaching for the lamp on his nightstand, he knocked over a bottle of water. “Is this for me?”

“Figured you’d need it,” Daniel said, looking too pleased with himself at what he was about to say. “Now, drink your water.”

“I think that’s my line,” Yang said, a smile finding its way onto his lips. He switched on the lamp, flooding the room in a warm glow. Being in bed with an almost-stranger should’ve been awkward, but this felt easy. Comfortable, almost.

“Why are you up so late? Or early?” According to Yang’s phone—somehow fully charged—it was just after four AM.

“Sleep paralysis monsters,” Daniel said, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“Was that English?” Yang asked, willing his normally capable brain to make it make sense.

“You know, when you wake up in the middle of the night with all this … well, anxiety? Like you’re paralyzed in bed and there’s a demon sitting on your chest, staring at you?”

For what felt like a full minute, Yang couldn’t find a response to whatever Daniel had just said. Was it a medical condition, or did he need an exorcist?

“Not literally, of course,” Daniel said with a laugh that could only be described as self-deprecating. “It’s just thoughts and worries that keep you up at night. Hasn’t that ever happened to you?”

That Yang could relate to. All the worries he wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in during the day made an appearance in the dead of night: that his research would languish in the ether without ever having helped a single person, that nothing he did really mattered …

“What keeps you up at night?” Yang asked instead of answering, lest he breathe life into his own monsters.

“There’s a bunch of them. They kind of take turns.” Daniel stretched his lips into what passed for a smile. “Sometimes it feels like I’m running on a hamster wheel. Just me and my brain, going in circles.”

A thought popped into Yang’s head. “Is one of them germs?”

Daniel laughed again, quieter this time. “That obvious, huh?” He pulled a pillow onto his lap and hugged it like a shield.

“Maybe,” Yang said, keeping his voice soft. For once, he didn’t feel so good about being right. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Daniel said with an air of finality. It felt a whole lot like a door being slammed shut on Yang as he craned his neck to see what was on the inside. Why did he care so much?

The silence stretched on between them until Daniel let out a sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was tentative. “I have … have you heard of OCD?”