Page 9 of From Beijing, With Love

With the bookmarks in hand, Dainel walked back to the station, a bounce in his steps. Then he spotted Yang, leaning against the metal railing, and lost his nerve. The overthinking machine in his skull kicked into high gear. Was he a total weirdo for buying these bookmarks for a guy he barely knew? What had felt like the right thing to do moments ago no longer felt quite so right.

If his therapist had been there, she’d probably tell him to not engage in mind reading, catastrophizing, or whatever other therapy words she had in her arsenal. But she wasn’t there, so Daniel shoved the bookmarks into his pocket and pretended nothing happened.

CHAPTER FIVEYang

Daniel fidgeted with his seat belt, pulling it out to create slack as if he couldn’t stand the feel of it against his body. Ever since they’d gotten into the Prius, it was like a switch had flipped.

“Are you okay?” Yang asked for the second time.

“All good.” Daniel turned to face the window. “Let’s just go.”

Yang got the hint: Daniel wasn’t interested in conversation. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected—that maybe Daniel wouldn’t treat him like he was just the driver after spending a whole day together?

Stepping on the gas with more force than necessary, Yang pulled out of the parking lot. He got to enjoy twenty minutes of traffic-free country roads before he merged onto the congested highway. At the rate traffic was moving, it’d be another three hours before they reached the hotel.

A dull ache radiated from Yang’s elbow. He’d landed on it wrong when Daniel crashed into him like a destructive boulder—one that didn’t respect personal spaces. Remembering Daniel’s body pressed against him, the warm solidity of his weight, Yang felt heat creep up his neck. He turned the air conditioning all the way up.

What was wrong with him? Could he not be around good-looking men without … No, Yang was not going to even finish that thought.

Daniel looked visibly relieved when they rolled up the circular driveway in front of Hotel Alium. The glass skyscraper had taken on the lavender hue of the dusk sky. Yang unlocked the passenger door with the press of a button, officially releasing Daniel back to his five-star natural habitat.

“Here we are,” Yang said, not bothering with the sales pitch for other tours nor asking for a good rating online. He was certain that Daniel would do neither, so he just handed over the company’s business card.

“That’s your number?” Daniel asked with an uncertain smile—the first one he’d bestowed upon Yang since they’d gotten into the car.

“No, not my number. The tour company’s.” Yang pointed to the name on the card: Luxury Beijing Tours. “In case you wanted to book another tour.”

“Oh, of course. That was stupid of me.” Daniel blushed, sounding almost … disappointed.

For some reason, Yang snatched the card from between Daniel’s fingers and scribbled his own number on the back.

After hesitating just long enough for Yang to question whether he’d crossed a line, Daniel took the card and stuffed it into his pocket.

“If you want to take another tour, you can call me,” Yang said to fill the silence. He didn’t handle tour bookings, nor had he ever given out his personal number before.

Daniel nodded but didn’t leave. Instead, he rooted through the other pocket of his pants like his life depended on it while wearing that same uncomfortable look on his face.

“The tour was already paid for,” Yang said. Daniel froze like he had just been caught red-handed.

“Right.” Daniel remained planted in his seat.

Like so much of the day, Yang hadn’t the slightest clue of what was happening with Daniel, and after the exhausting day bookended by three-hour-long drives, he didn’t have the willpower to figure it out. “Daniel?”

“Yeah?” Daniel’s eyes widened, like Yang had just interrupted his thoughts.

“The door’s unlocked.”

Daniel blushed again, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. When he took his hand out of his pocket, he held a fistful of bills. He thrusted them at Yang. “Here you go.”

“Like I said, the tour was already paid for by—”

“A tip,” Daniel blurted out.

Yang sat up straighter in the driver’s seat and steeled himself to be diplomatic. It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before. American tourists were always eager with tips, but to have Daniel shove the bills at him after ignoring him for the last three hours made him feel … cheap.

“I’m glad you enjoyed our tour, but gratuity is not customary in China,” Yang said.

Daniel was properly red now. After mumbling something that vaguely resembled an apology, he shoved the car door open. Tossing another “Sorry” in Yang’s direction, Daniel tried to get out. He would have succeeded if it weren’t for his seat belt—the one he’d fidgeted with the entire car ride like it was a straitjacket.