The thought of leaving filled Obiora with slight panic—it meant he probably wouldn’t see Ejiro again—which was exactly why he had to leave, and soon.
“Fuck,” he whispered, dumping his now empty skewer back on his plate, before sinking into the depths of the hot water for a quick second. When he came back out, inhaling deeply, he didn’t feel any better. “Fuck,” he repeated, with more feeling.
He’d been avoiding thinking about it, but eventually, he was going to leave or be eliminated or whatever. Ejiro would probably carry on to the final episodes, seeing as he was literally right now on his third date with Sophia; it’d been quite a few hours since Ejiro had left for the date, which made Obiora assume the date was probably going really well. Out of all the bachelors, the likely top three candidates so far were Noah, Chris Wu, and Ejiro.
Obiora had managed to see Ejiro before he’d left for the dinner date, which had been a huge mistake. Ejiro had been dressed in a lovely cream suit that emphasised his slight build, complementing the width of his chest and shoulders, while making his already ridiculously long legs look even longer. God, those fucking legs. He’d seemed shy but genuinely excited for his date, which had made Obiora feel like punching the nearest fucking wall.
This was why he had to leave. His feelings were getting way too intense, and he couldn’t even fucking stop it. Every moment he spent with Ejiro felt like falling off the edge of a cliff with no end in sight.
He grabbed another skewer off his plate and bit into a chunk of fried meat and chopped vegetables like it’d distract him from his thoughts. He’d just finished and dropped the empty skewer down when he heard the sliding door behind him come open.
He twisted around to look, and felt his heart skip and his stomach twist all over itself when he saw that it was Ejiro, clad in nothing but swim trunks and a towel. It had to be nearing nine PM right now, which meant Ejiro had spent nearly three hours with Sophia.
“Hey, you’re back,” Obiora said with an automatic grin, excited to see him even as his stomach roiled at the thought of where exactly he was coming from.
“Hey!” Ejiro said, almost too brightly. “I’m going to have to interrupt your solitude. Sorry not sorry.” He grinned, his eyes wide and slightly manic, before he turned away to drop his towel on one of the leather cushioned square-stools surrounding the tub.
“Uh. Right.” Obiora stared at him, a little flummoxed. Was he okay? “How was your date?”
“Oh, it was fine, it was lovely.” Ejiro was entering the tub, not meeting his eyes. He moaned as he sank into the hot water, the sound sinful. “God, that’s good.”
Obiora tried to reroute the blood back into his head. “You sure you’re okay? You just seem a little …”
“Of course. I’m okay. I’m good. I’m fine. What have you got there? Did you guys barbecue without me?” Ejiro teased, leaning over and grabbing one of the skewers from Obiora’s plate. He promptly shoved one of the meats into his mouth before Obiora could say anything, effectively cutting off all means of communication between them. “Mm,” he moaned as he chewed. “So good.”
Something was clearly wrong, but Obiora decided perhaps it was best not to push.
Since their only topic was the date, which Ejiro clearly did not want to talk about, there was a slight awkward silence. Ejiro was chewing vigorously and looking anywhere but at him, which didn’t help at all. Obiora’s concern grew.
“So,” Obiora began playfully, wanting to diffuse the tension, “that’s an extra slice of French toast, eight pieces of plantain, an extra piece of chicken, and now one skewer of barbecued beef.”
Ejiro nearly choked on his food. Obiora’s chest swelled.
“Oh my God,” Ejiro said when he’d finally finished, still laughing. “Are you serious? Are you really keeping a tally?”
“Of course I’m keeping a tally,” Obiora scoffed, mock-seriously. “A man’s food is his pride, after all.”
“You’re ridiculous. You actually don’t care when I steal your food, stop pretending.”
Obiora didn’t mind at all. In fact, he kind of loved the almost-distracted but comfortable intimacy of the act, but that wasn’t the point. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
Ejiro burst out laughing again. “The principle of the thing,” he mocked, not maliciously. “You’re so obnoxious.”
“Obnoxious is my middle name.”
“Oh my God.”
Obiora grinned, relaxing further into the tub and closing his eyes. There was a brief, comfortable silence.
Then Ejiro blurted, “I fucked up.”
Obiora startled so hard at the curse word water sloshed around them. He sat up, eyes zeroed on Ejiro.
All traces of comfort and amusement were gone from Ejiro’s frame, replaced with the manic look he’d had when he’d first come into the room. His shoulders were hunched up to his ears, like he was waiting for an attack. The skewer had been replaced on the plate.
“What’s wrong?” Obiora asked gently, moving a little closer, but not too close to stifle him. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Ejiro got out of the water abruptly, perching instead on the edge of the hot tub so only his legs were in the water, propped up on the seats. He held onto the edge of the tub, his grip so tight his knuckles paled.
