Obiora brushed by him, his body heat pulling at Ejiro like a siren song. He walked ahead, and Ejiro used the opportunity to unabashedly take in the breadth of Obiora’s wide shoulders, the thickness of his arms. He could easily imagine himself being enfolded within Obiora’s embrace; Obiora looked like he was made for warm hugs and cosy snuggling. The thought of it made Ejiro’s entire body practically burn with longing.
Yeah, he was most definitely just starved for touch. That was all.
SEVENTEEN
FILMING BEGAN ALMOST THE SECOND the bachelors and crew arrived in Venice. They used a water taxi to get to their accommodation, a lovely place located away from the hustle and bustle of the city centre, but still within a reasonable walking distance.
Most of the men had slept on the journey from Oxford. They’d been so excited about the trip they’d ended up staying up all night talking, drinking, and eating junk food, that after waking up at ass-o’clock in the morning to get to the airport, they’d all promptly passed out on the flight, Obiora included.
Now, though, despite still not getting nearly enough sleep, the men were completely wide awake, taking in the sights and sounds on their journey to their accommodation, which ended up being two first floor flats connected by a long terrace.
“I’ll let y’all decide your sleeping arrangements,” Ameri said after Ragna, the muscular, towering white, blonde woman who happened to be their host and the building’s owner, had shown them to the place, and Ameri had filmed their reactions and entrance into the house. “Remember; myself, the other directors, and the staff, are situated just a three-minute walk from here; you’ve got your emergency phone, but you can call Ragna if you need anything else. Best use the rest of today to catch up on sleep, because filming resumes bright and early tomorrow. Welcome to Venice, y’all!”
The men hooted and hollered in response. Ameri grinned and waved, and then she and the crew were gone. There were no cameras installed within their accommodation in Venice, which had the men exhaling slightly and letting out a tension they probably hadn’t realised they’d held. Ameri, the other producers and crew, would instead come in in the mornings and evenings to film before and after their group and personal dates with the bachelorette.
“Okay, so, we have six bedrooms in this house and four in the next one,” Chris Wu started, getting right to business.
“That means seven people in the bigger house, and five in the smaller.” Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “Which means some of us are going to have to share.”
“There are two bedrooms that have two single beds instead of a double, one in each house. Who doesn’t mind sharing?”
“I don’t mind,” Ejiro said quickly. His eyes darted in Obiora’s direction for a quick second before darting away. Obiora’s heart skipped a traitorous beat.
“I can share with Ejiro,” Obiora said, trying to look casual and like every inch of him wasn’t screaming what the fuck are you doing?
“Alistair,” Eddie said, walking over to the underwear model and throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Wanna share with me?”
Alistair shrugged. “Sure.”
“Great.” Jin clapped his hands primly. Obiora didn’t even know one could clap their hands primly. “First come first served on the other bedrooms, then?”
“Deal.”
The men dispersed quickly, eager to pick the best bedrooms for themselves.
Obiora and Ejiro ended up in the smaller house, as Alistair and Eddie managed to call dibs on the unit in the larger flat.
The place was absolutely stunning. The connecting terrace was a marbled walkway, covered entirely with a curving metal frame that had vines and other plants and flowers interspersed through its hexagonal holes, creating a magical, portal-like corridor. On the ground floor on the right was an alleyway and some private housing, while on the left, the terrace looked into a small private garden. The big house had a generous veranda with elegant outdoor seating that could take everyone from both houses. Obiora could already see the nights the men were going to spend there socialising.
When he and Ejiro finally got to their assigned room—their other housemates ended up being Jin, Tyler, and Jack; the more introverted of all the bachelors—Obiora’s traitorous heart did something funny when he spotted the two “single” beds. They were placed ridiculously close to each other in the middle of the wall opposite the door, with literally only a sliver of space between them. Heck, neither he nor Ejiro would be able to fit a hand between their bedframes, that was how close they were.
Ejiro didn’t seem to notice anything awry as he dumped his luggage in a corner, kicked his shoes off and collapsed onto the bed nearer the window with a long, drawn-out sigh.
“I’m in Venice,” he said, staring with wide eyes at the ceiling. “Obiora”—fucking hell, did it feel all kinds of simultaneously amazing and devastating every time Ejiro said his name—“we’re in Venice. Oh my God.” He laughed, covering his mouth with his hand, his giddiness contagious. “You know, I was pretty sure the second we got here I was going to fall into the deepest sleep—I was so exhausted on the plane—but now I’m just too jittery.”
“I feel you,” Obiora said, tentatively making his way to the other bed.
He perched on the corner of it, and instantly struggled to take in air. Ejiro was so close. So fucking close. Obiora could literally just lean over and he would be able to touch Ejiro’s hip with his fingertips.
Jesus. Fucking hell.
Unaware of Obiora’s inner turmoil, Ejiro twisted around on the bed to face him, balancing himself on one arm. “We’ve only been here for, what? Two hours at most? But I just know Ajiri and Blessing would love it here. God, I wish they were here.”
It was something in Ejiro’s eyes, the openness of his expression, the genuine excitement in his voice that had Obiora admitting, “Ada would have loved it here, too.” He looked away, casually, as if what he’d said didn’t matter, as if the last time he’d spoken about her like this it hadn’t been about his grief—never about her. “She had a bucket list, you know?” he continued, unable to stop, some part of him suddenly desperate to share the bits of her he was afraid he was losing, because he couldn’t talk about them to anyone else back home without them looking at him with either pity—Esther and his brothers—or concern—his parents. “Things she wanted to do, and places she wanted to visit. I remember her literally googling the top twenty most romantic cities in the world so she could put them all on the list.”
He laughed a little at the memory, the sound bittersweet. He’d taken to calling it her “barrel list” because of how fucking long it was, while she’d rolled her eyes and told him he made no freaking sense considering that the word “bucket” came from the phrase “to kick the bucket”—it wasn’t a literal bucket. Obiora had, of course, ignored her, to her fond annoyance.
His shoulders were tense as he waited for Ejiro’s response, braced for pity, or empty platitudes, or Ejiro’s discomfort and changing of the subject.
