Noah blanched. “No! I just meant a lot of people who play the game are elitist and ableist, seeing as most of them believe that if you can’t play it, then you’re automatically “stupid”.”
“And now you’re implying that I’m also ableist,” Jin drawled.
The sound of a doorbell saved Noah from further embarrassing himself.
“Saved by the bell,” Tyler grumbled, and they laughed.
The times they’d heard the bell were far and few; sometimes the bachelorette sent a message to the house before a private date with her winning bachelors, always in the form of a cheesy poem, or a request on how they should dress for the date and so on. Sometimes Ameri was the one sending a message on how the bachelors should dress for their next group date, while giving a small clue on what the group date would be. The messages were always announced with the bell, and the men were always filmed a little beforehand, during, and after.
Since the winning bachelors had all gone on their dates with Sophia and filmed their cutaways, the men couldn’t be blamed for their curiosity. Usually, Ameri waited until the next day to send a message about the dress code for the next group date.
“What do you think it is?” Damien mused.
“Let’s go on ahead and find out,” Chris Wu said.
There was a wide, flat-screen TV mounted in the foyer of the mansion, and once all the bachelors had gathered in front of it, the cameras focused on them, the TV came on, revealing the bachelorette.
Sophia’s smile was wide and playful. “There are blossoms in the air, and water in the streets; I hope you’re ready boys, we’re going to Venice!”
There were hollers of excitement—some a bit exaggerated for the cameras—as the screen turned dark. It took a second for Ejiro to process the poem.
“Did she—did she say we’re going to Venice?”
“Yup,” Obiora said from beside him, looking just as excited as the other men, but more contained.
“Oh my God,” Ejiro gasped, bouncing on his feet. “Venice?”
“I take it you’re excited,” Obiora teased.
“Are you joking?” Ejiro said. “I’ve literally only been to two places; Nigeria doesn’t count because I was born and raised there, and I’m definitely not counting England because I only came here for school.”
Obiora was laughing. He threw an arm over Ejiro’s shoulders, dragging him close against his side and squeezing him companionably as he said, “You’re so fucking adorable.”
At the touch, as Obiora’s woodsy scent wafted into his nose, Ejiro froze, and his heartbeat went into overdrive, pounding furiously like an African drum. Warmth encompassed him from head to toe, and his cheeks felt hot with a self-conscious blush.
“Gentlemen, shall we celebrate?” Chris Wu called from the head of the group, walking backwards in the direction of the kitchen. “We’ve got wine and beer in the fridge.”
“Yes!” the men chorused.
“Let’s do it. Come on, then,” Obiora said to Ejiro, leading him in the direction of the kitchen with his arm still casually flung around his shoulders.
Ejiro didn’t know why he felt so weird. Obiora’s arm, thick with muscle, felt slightly heavy on his shoulders, but instead of making him feel overcrowded, he felt more … grounded.
He wanted Obiora to stop touching him. He wanted Obiora to never stop.
When they reached the kitchen, Obiora dropped his arm, heading for the fridge. “Sprite?” he asked, a grin on his lips.
“You already know,” Ejiro said, managing to smile back.
He hugged his arms around himself, rubbing his shoulders, missing Obiora’s touch. When he realised what he was doing, he abruptly dropped his hands.
What was wrong with him today? He glanced at Obiora from the corner of his eye. The need to be held again wasn’t dissipating; in fact, now that he knew what it felt to be in Obiora’s embrace, even in such a casual, friendly way, he realised how badly he wanted more.
Perhaps he was just missing Ajiri and Blessing. He and his twin were tactile, always lying haphazardly on top of each other when they were in the same vicinity, Blessing soon joining in when she’d come into the picture. It’d been so long since Ejiro had been touched, perhaps that was all it was.
When Obiora handed him his drink, their fingers brushed, making Ejiro’s heart skip.
“Let’s go,” Obiora said, leading them toward the backyard, where most of the other men had already headed.
