Rock turned toward the window, ears flaming red impossible to hide.
"Rock… have you ever been nagged by a spouse before?"
Star, in pure clueless innocence, assumed the earlier moment had been an accident. But the question soft, honest, dangerous made the brute explode to cover up whatever the hell he felt.
"Never! Don't ask!"
"Okay, okay~"
.
.
In the Room
"Rock, your phone's been buzzing all day. Aren't you going to pick it up?"
Slender brows knit as the expensive phone vibrated nonstop. Rock had even switched it to silent, ignoring every call until Star finally had to comment.
"What the hell are you poking your nose into? You got nothing better to do? I can send you out to go unscrew the car wheels if you want."
"I just asked. No need to bite my head off."
"And don't you have other clothes? Why are you wearing a cropped thing with a neckline that low? And those pants skin-tight like you're about to go do aerobics. It's embarrassing as hell. Don't tell me Didi sent you more of that stuff again."
"I thought you didn't wear glasses, Rock. I'm surprised you can even see my clothes."
"A–… huh?"
"Contact lenses, then?"
"M–mind your business! Get away from me!"
"I only came close because I thought you weren't wearing contacts. Or… are you heading out? Should I go too?"
"A— I— yeah, I'm going out. And no, you're not coming. It's embarrassing. You're catching all sorts of weird habits from Didi!"
"Alright. Drive safe, Rock~"
"My problem."
Rock bolted out of the room the moment the little debtor stepped too close. Lately, Star's wardrobe had changed thanks to Didi, that menace of a matchmaker. Their relentless attempts to pair the two up had left the rough-edged boss restless for days.
The oversized cropped tops, the low-waist pants raising an arm to wipe something and the hem would slip up, revealing that blindingly pale stomach. Why did a guy have a waist like that?
Star spoke boldly, asked directly, held eye-contact without fear. That soft voice, the teasing tone, the way smiles came more easily now probably because Rock had been dragging Star around to meet more people, to socialize.
With Deedee's coaching, Star dressed better, carried themself better polished manners, surprisingly graceful in public. Better than the boss, even. More than once, Star had saved tense social situations that Rock's bluntness had created. Given the chance to be in a world of competent people, Star had gotten good. Very good.
Good enough that Rock found himself annoyed at how attractive Star had become. Annoyed at how satisfying it felt whenever Star's attention landed on him and how it felt like winning whenever someone else tried to approach them.
That was why Rock had gone back to wearing contacts more often. To see certain things more clearly. And the more clearly he saw, the harder it was to look away. How could one person's body be that… distracting? Weren't people supposed to look just like everyone else?
That was what the car tycoon had always believed. But reality proved otherwise the moving image in front of him sent signals straight to his nervous system, blood rushing too fiercely for comfort.
Confusion piled higher each day.
His red Ferrari slid into the parking lot of a luxury mall owned by a friend's family the same friend who ran a salon there. Rock had dashed out of the house in a black-and-red Hawaiian shirt and soft lounge pants, flip-flops and all. He'd been too rattled to argue with Star any longer. The clearer he saw, the shakier he got.
How was he supposed to respond to the little one's question about his contacts? When he'd been secretly wearing them just to watch Star around the house, running errands, everywhere. Enough that high-society gossip had begun spreading that the heir of a luxury car empire was preparing to marry some dangerously sexy young man.
Every time they were together, Rock's nerves frayed a little more turning ordinary moments into something he didn't know how to handle.
"What's up with you? How come you're out meeting me alone today? Didn't bring your little pup with you?"
"Bring them for what? Every time I do, you dress them up like it's Fashion Week. I get a headache just looking."
Rock grumbled at Didi, his oversized friend who always acted like a stoic soldier when they weren't in the salon.
"A headache? Why because you're jealous? I saw you that night at the event, man. You stared at your debtor so hard your neck almost snapped."
"Why can't I look? Look at the crap you dress them in. It's embarrassing as hell. Who the hell styles someone like that?"
"Oh? Should I spell the word possessive for you~?"
"I'm not possessive, damn it. They're a country kid. Dressing them in stuff that shows that much skin what will other people think? They're not a promo model, they're my worker."
"Oh please. You can't get off alone forever, Rock. Two people feel better than one, you know? You've got something good and you're not using it—saving it for a lucky draw or what? Humans live on love and sex. The only things you don't have. How long are you gonna let yourself be incomplete? If you like them, just go for it. Stop overthinking."
"Didi, you're talking too damn much today. Did you go to a host bar last night or something? Why are you lecturing me about love and passion?"
"Look who's talking. Worry about yourself, pretty boy. You're love-starved as hell only love can fix that. And that little Star takes care of you better than your own kid would. If feeding you milk was allowed, I bet they'd have done it already…"
"/////"
"What? Why's your face red all of a sudden? Don't tell me. You're thinking about? Rock!"
"Deedee…"
"Yes, darling~"
"Do you realize how damn annoying you are? You're the one teaching them to talk back to me, aren't you?"
"Star's special, right? You like looking at them, right? The kid told me, I know everything. Your symptoms are obvious as hell. But they're clueless, so I've been rooting for you two until I'm out of breath and you still haven't done anything! It's driving me nuts!"
"What do you expect me to do? Order them to break up with their partner? Ban them from talking to anyone? Who the hell can control somebody like that?"
"You know full well that kid's partner is trash. And Win? He's a flirt. Even if he genuinely likes Star, he'd still be messing around elsewhere. Star would only end up hurt again. After all the crap that kid's been through, with cars and with love, it's a miracle they're still standing."
"So what do you want me to do? Jump them or something?"
"Ooh—bold! Yes, yes, pounce on them!"
"Deedee!"
Talking to someone helped a little, but maybe he'd been talking to that pervy Deedee too much lately because now every time he thought of his debtor doing chores or even just sipping water, his mind wandered way too far.
For the first time ever, he found himself pacing in front of his own room instead of barging in to play games like usual. What was Star doing at this hour? Cooking in that cropped shirt and tiny shorts with an apron on? Sitting cross-legged on the floor by the couch, shorts riding up his pale thighs again? Or maybe… in the shower…
Rock jerked his head hard, shaking the image out.
He needed help. He seriously needed help. He might not be the best person, but even he felt weird for wanting someone who already belonged to someone else. He let out a huge sigh. The door beeped as he scanned his keycard and stepped inside.
"Ah—shit!"
Rock's rough voice came out barely above a breath the moment he saw the scene in front of him. Star stood there glowing white against the dim room bare from the waist up, wearing nothing but loose sleep pants hanging low on his hips. He was towel-drying his soaked hair, droplets sliding down his skin, clinging to his chest those small pink tips standing out shamelessly against soft skin. The kid turned with that wide, puppy-like smile he always had when Rock came home.
It was…
It was too much.
"STAR!!"
The shout startled the pale boy so hard he jumped. Rock stood frozen, looking like he was either drunk, sick, or possessed face red, breathing harsh, eyes wide.
Was he drunk? Or having some kind of seizure?
Star rushed toward him on instinct, thinking the man had run into something again. His bare chest pressed against Rock's solid arm as he wrapped an arm around that thick waist, steadying him.
"Are you drunk, Rock?"
"M-m-m… you… you—!"
"Huh? Drank too much? Come on, slow down or you'll fall."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Rock's long legs moved stiffly as Star guided him like a malfunctioning robot. Every nerve in his body was firing. His tattooed skin brushed directly against those pink tips of Star's chest every time either of them shifted, and just glancing down was enough to make his heart explode. The small voice. The warm hands on his waist. The smell of soap. The softness leaning on him.
From stiff legs to… other things stiffening it all happened way too fast.
No way.
No way he was getting turned on by a guy's nipples this much. Rock screamed in his mind, trying desperately to pull himself together. But then those soft hands cupped his face and leaned in closer right as he sank down onto the couch.
"Rock, what happened? Did you get into an accident? Are you hurt anywhere? Are your contacts still in? I don't smell any alcohol what's going on?"
Star fired off questions nonstop, watching Rock's dazed eyes roll up and down like he wasn't sure what he was looking at.
"You…"
Rock tried to turn away, but Star kept holding his slim waist, leaning close enough that Rock could smell his damn shower gel. His eyes dropped instantly catching on those pink peaks brushing against his arm again.
"Yes?" Star looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes that had no idea how dangerous they were.
"Why the hell are you shirtless? Put something on. Now!"
"I'm hot~"
"What, does my place not have air-con? Go turn it on!!"
"It's already on."
"Huuhhh—!"
It took every ounce of willpower to shove the kid away far enough to breathe. Rock almost passed out his stupid heart wouldn't stop pounding like it wanted to punch through his ribs. Why did it have to be like this? Was Star trying to pay off his debt the fast way? Was he doing this on purpose? Being flirty every damn day? Looking at him like that?
Or… was what Didi said true?
Was he actually into the kid?
No. No way. There was no way he'd fall for just…A chest. A waist. Those legs. That ridiculously sweet face. That soft voice whining and chattering nonstop.
Not cute.
Not cute at all.
…right?