He came out of the shower, hair slightly damp, and glanced at me pacing around the living room.
"You look like a lost puppy in the woods."
I paused."Uhhh, why?"
He smirked."Well, you should know. Why don't you sit and relax? I'm just staying over, not eating you."
My face turned red instantly.
I stood up quickly."I'm going to bed."
He laughed softly."Okay. I'll sleep here then."
Then, with that husky tone that gave me goosebumps, he added,"Good night."
I walked straight to my room, shut the door, and leaned against it. My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. I thanked the gods silently—it was my day off tomorrow.
I lay on my bed, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly when ping—a message from Phu.
"You sleeping?"
I replied,"No."
He texted back,"Why?"
I typed,"I'm going to now."
He replied with a smirking face emoji.
I messaged back,"You love doing this to me."
He sent a smile and a hugging emoji. My hands started to feel warm, the heat slowly spreading through my body.
I was nervous. Scared even.
I knew something about tonight was different—something might change. And the thought of him walking into my room made me even more anxious.
So I messaged him, "Do you want me to come out?"
He replied, "No."
I frowned."Why?"
"Because I'll come in," he said.
My eyes widened. I dropped my phone and rushed to the door, trying to lock it—but I was too late.
He had already opened it.
I stood there, frozen."What is it?" I asked, my voice lower than usual.
He stepped in slowly, eyes scanning the room."Nothing. Just wanted to take a look around," he said casually, yet his eyes never left mine.
He picked up the beach photo—the one he had taken with Mae, my sister, and me. He looked at it for a moment before saying,"You do look like your mother."
I smiled softly."Thank you."
His eyes wandered around my room before he sat on the edge of my bed. Then he tapped the spot beside him, motioning for me to sit. I hesitated but eventually did, not too close—just enough to feel the tension in the air.
He glanced at me,"Earlier, I asked if you liked the actor, and you kind of said yes indirectly."
I looked down, avoiding his gaze, and nodded slowly.
Then he asked,"Have you ever dated anyone before?"
I replied,"No… I was a lazy-ass boy who just loved staying home with Mae."
He smiled at that."Then what about… a kiss? Have you kissed anyone before?"
I nodded again.
His tone shifted slightly, curious."Who?"
I smiled awkwardly."When I was three, there was this girl from daycare. She hugged me and kissed me on the lips."
He burst into laughter, genuinely amused.
"Stop it…" I muttered, hiding my face with my hand.
Then I turned the question on him."What about you?"
He looked down for a moment."A few…"
I gave him a small smile."Okay… good for you. Now get out. I wanna sleep."
I started pushing him toward the door, trying to act like I was done for the night. But he just stood there. Not even an inch moved.
I narrowed my eyes, stepping a little closer—I planned to tease him. I leaned in, close enough to feel his breath.
"What is it?" I whispered. "You want me to kiss you now?"
He was tall—almost 190 cm. I'm about 178 cm, so I had to stand a little on my toes. He looked at my lips. I could feel the heat of his gaze, and my heart was pounding in my ears.
Then suddenly, he reached out, his hand sliding to the back of my neck. He pulled me in and kissed me—right near the corner of my lips.
My breath hitched.
I closed my eyes instinctively, trying to push him away—but it was hard. Not just because of his strength, but because a part of me didn't want to.
I finally managed to break free from his grip, stepping back as my face burned red.
"Phu," I said, trying to calm my voice. "I'm… stop that—if you don't mean it."
He looked at me, serious, his tone low and steady.
"When did I ever say I didn't mean it?" he replied. "I'm making it too obvious, aren't I?"
I looked down, the weight of his words settling over me. My voice trembled a little as I asked,
"When you said you like me… did you mean it?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, gently holding my face in both his hands.
I couldn't help it—my eyes stung, and I felt the tears building.
Because I was scared.
Because deep down, I knew… dating a celebrity—especially when we're both men—was never going to be easy.
He saw it in my eyes before I could even say it.
He looked into my eyes and spoke softly, but clearly.
"I know what you're thinking... and I already have my answer for that. Take your time and come back to me when you can—if you feel the same. But don't take too long… I don't have that much patience."
He turned, about to walk away.
But I instinctively reached out and grabbed his hand.
"I like you too," I said quickly, my voice a little shaky. "I don't know why or how… but I know I like you. So please—let me finish this next project with James first, and then we can have a proper talk."
He stopped, his expression softening.
"Okay," he replied.
"Today, let's just get to know each other more," I added with a small smile.
He chuckled slightly and stepped closer.
"I know you just asked for time… but right now, I really want to kiss you. So, please excuse me for my rudeness."
I smirked, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek.
"This should be enough for now, right, Phu?"
He didn't answer with words. Instead, he pulled me into his arms, holding me close. He pressed a kiss gently to my forehead, then my nose—and then finally to my lips. We kissed, slow and warm, for nearly five minutes, our breaths tangled in the quiet of the room.
Then he lowered his lips to my neck, placing a few soft kisses there.
"Phu…" I whispered, "I need you to be patient."
He sighed against my skin and nodded.
"Okay… then let me just hug you. Five minutes. That's all."
And he held me like the world had stopped turning—just us, in that moment, breathing as one.
He walked out of my room after our long, heartfelt conversation. As he stepped into the hallway, I softly said,
"Thank you…" and then mumbled, "Love you."
He turned back, smiled warmly—but said nothing. That smile was more than enough.
I closed the door and this time, I locked it. Not because I wanted to keep anyone out… but to hold in the quiet warmth that still lingered in the air.
The next morning, around 11 a.m., I woke up to an empty living room. He wasn't home. But on the coffee table, there was a folded note:
"I'm going back. Sandwich in the fridge."
Once showered, I walked over, still yawning, and opened the fridge to find a neatly wrapped egg sandwich. The cling wrap crinkled softly as I peeled it away. I took a bite—the egg was perfectly seasoned—and couldn't help smiling. Someone had thought of me. That simple gesture, wrapped in plastic and care, turned an ordinary morning into something quietly beautiful.
"It's nice… having a boyfriend who can cook," I whispered to myself, feeling a strange but comforting joy in that thought.
I snapped a picture of the half-eaten sandwich and sent it to him.
A few seconds later, he replied:
"That's my boy."
My cheeks flushed. I hugged my phone like an idiot—and went back to finish the sandwich, grinning like I hadn't in a long time.