Chapter 8: Try It

Ren Yu froze for a second, mentally running through the people at the table. None of them would actually play this hard. But he quickly realized the hand felt familiar. It carried a sharp note of tobacco, the fingertips lightly calloused, the grip at his jaw unyielding, like a bold, sweeping brushstroke.

No way. It couldn’t be.

He couldn’t relax, couldn’t loosen up. In the thick darkness, he could feel the person hadn’t moved away. They were standing right there, looking down at him, waiting for an answer.

“Guess,” Min Xiaoyue said. Maybe it was Ren Yu’s imagination, but her voice sounded almost trembling with excitement.

He licked his lips, tongue dry. “Chen… Chen Xin? You little shit?”

“No way.” Chen Xin slapped his knee, denying it.

Ren Yu guessed two more names. Wrong both times.

His breathing went tight. He wanted to guess but didn’t dare. Finally he yanked off the blindfold, and through the shifting, kaleidoscopic colors, his gaze collided with Fang Yingli’s, detonating something deep in his chest.

“Apologies. Work ran late.” Despite the words, Fang Yingli’s gaze was still angled down at him, teasing and arrogant, not particularly sorry, just indifferent. His clothes backed up the excuse though—a white dress shirt he hadn’t had time to change out of, one extra button undone to suit the setting. “I happened to see you all playing a game and jumped in halfway. Hope you don’t mind.”

The spot where their lips had touched suddenly burned. Ren Yu braced a hand on the booth and stood, only then realizing he’d had more to drink than he thought. His body swayed, and his smile turned slow and syrupy. “Not at all. I need the restroom.”

The restroom was empty. Ren Yu splashed water on his face. The heat of the alcohol receded a little, but the place where those fingers had gripped his jaw was still searing.

Strange. Like he’d been branded. It wouldn’t fade.

The restroom door swung open. Ren Yu looked up from where he leaned over the sink, water dripping from his bangs, catching on his lashes. Through the blur, he saw Fang Yingli walk in.

In the narrow space, the lighting was a lurid tomato red. Both of them were breathing heavily, and some unspoken understanding was thickening in the air.

“Had too much?” Fang Yingli asked.

“A little.” Ren Yu’s gaze drifted uncontrollably to the man’s hand. Those prominent veins and knuckles had always been enough to set him off, and now the fresh scar, marring the beauty, added a hidden, violent tension.

Fang Yingli noticed him staring. Deliberately, he planted his hand beside Ren Yu’s on the counter, the soft flesh of their palms pressing together.

“Your 32nd birthday?”

“Yeah.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Ren Yu’s smile turned a little reckless, his eyes glittering. And out came something careless, “You’re two years younger than me, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be calling me Yu-ge?”

“Ha.” Fang Yingli let out that soft, dismissive breath from the back of his throat. But his body pressed closer, and Ren Yu retreated until his lower back hit the edge of the counter.

“You show up empty-handed and then mock me?” Ren Yu arched an eyebrow, fine creases rippling across the bridge of his nose. Fang Yingli’s gaze fixed there, then caught on the small mole that shifted with his expression.

“Boss Ren, your skin’s very red.”

The alcohol, or the heat, or maybe…

“You’re too close.”

He could feel the other man’s unsteady breathing, the smell of liquor, the rose-flavored cream from the biscuit stick, a hint of coconut.

Fang Yingli asked, “You don’t like it?”

His voice had a breathy edge. Cold in tone, and yet utterly seductive.

Ren Yu drew a deep breath. He couldn’t bring himself to lie. “It’s not that.”

“You like men.”

The ending lifted slightly—a question, but more an assertion.

Ren Yu’s sexuality was a secret he’d never shared with anyone. He pressed his lips together, holding off further probing with silence.

“Ever kissed one? A man?” Fang Yingli pressed.

Ren Yu blinked, his throat working. Through the haze of alcohol, he began to think, slowly.

“I don’t have much time.” Fang Yingli glanced at his watch and frowned impatiently.

At the same moment, Ren Yu blurted out, “We can try.”

The last word never fully formed. Fang Yingli’s lips seized his own, crushed his own, swallowed his own.

They bit at each other like wild animals, drunk and fighting for dominance. Fang Yingli’s hand pressed the back of Ren Yu’s neck, fingers sliding into his hair, the way a lion pins its prey. Ren Yu gasped for air, acutely aware of the pressure against him through the damp, thin fabric of his shirt.

Suddenly the outer door of the restroom slammed open. The stall door would be next.

Ren Yu shoved him away.

They stood there, chests heaving, staring into each other’s eyes. The aftermath of the kiss lingered like a bowstring still vibrating after the arrow’s release.

The instant the door swung open, Fang Yingli looked away and said, low and quiet, “Happy birthday.” Then he strode out.

Five minutes later, Ren Yu emerged from the restroom. By the time he got back to the booth, Fang Yingli was gone.

“Where is he?” Ren Yu’s heartbeat had settled somewhat. He collapsed into the seat and asked Chen Xin.

“Left.” Chen Xin was shelling sunflower seeds for his girlfriend, and answered distractedly. “Didn’t see him talk to any of the girls. He barely touched his drink. Feels like the whole thing was a bust.”

Min Xiaoyue popped a seed into her mouth and nudged Ren Yu with her knee. “Yu-ge, I kind of think he’s into you.”

Ren Yu had just lifted his glass. A sharp mouthful of liquor caught in his throat. He licked his lips without thinking. Fortunately they were already red from drinking, so the marks from the kiss weren’t too obvious.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Chen Xin laughed like it was a joke.

“Trust a woman’s intuition,” Min Xiaoyue said. “Nobody forced him to bite that biscuit.”

Chen Xin stopped laughing. He glanced at Ren Yu, who’d gone quiet, lost in thought.

Min Xiaoyue asked tentatively, “Yu-ge, why don’t you offer yourself as bait? Playing the pig to eat the tiger versus feeding yourself to the tiger—same principle, basically.”

Not even close. One was eating. The other was being eaten.

The three of them sat there in collective gloom. Ten minutes later, Chen Xin spoke first, “Should we just try it?”

Ren Yu let out a “fuck,” slammed his glass on the table, and pointed at Chen Xin’s nose. “Tell your Editor-in-Chief Deng this is a whole different price bracket!”