Page 47 of From Beijing, With Love

This was also Daniel. The person who gave Yang a place to sleep so he’d be safe. The person who left water and medicine on his nightstand. The person who bought something for a practical stranger because he intuited its meaningfulness without needing to be told.

The person who told Yang that he just wanted him to be happy.

“Thank you,” Yang said, tracing the intricate grooves on one of the bookmarks with his thumb. He had wanted Daniel to challenge him, to argue with him, to do anything other than tacitly agree that Yang was allowed to just walk away like there was nothing between them.

Because there was. If Yang allowed himself an honest moment, he’d admit how much he was drawn to Daniel. As much as he tried—and he really did—he couldn’t get Daniel out of his head. He wanted—needed—more.

For once, maybe it was okay for Yang to indulge in what he wanted, to be brave.

Be brave.

Yang grazed Daniel’s hand with his own, their fingertips making the barest of contact. Something flickered across Daniel’s face that emboldened Yang.

“Do you want to get a drink somewhere?” Yang asked, meeting Daniel’s eyes.

“I think I’ve hit my daily limit for being outside,” Daniel said with his signature self-deprecating laugh. Just as disappointment fell over Yang, he added, “But we can raid the minibar in my room if you want? Just talking, of course.”

“Just talking,” Yang agreed too quickly.

He followed Daniel into the gleaming lights of Hotel Alium.

CHAPTER TWENTYYang

A bottle of wine sat on top of Daniel’s perfectly made bed, saving them from having to raid the minibar. The accompanying card read See you in a few days. Looooove you!

“Platypus?” Yang read the name on the card.

“Poppy the Platypus.” Daniel smiled as he took the card from Yang. “We always said that we are each other’s platonic soulmates. Platonic, platypus, you get it.” He handed over the bottle of wine. “Open this while I change?”

Yang rummaged through the beverage station for a corkscrew, singularly focused on not looking back at Daniel as he changed. He would have succeeded if not for the mirrored wall behind the wineglasses. As Daniel pulled off his shirt, Yang’s eyes traced the lines of Daniel’s back muscles. Closing his eyes didn’t help the matter, as it only surfaced the memory of Daniel answering the door in nothing but a towel around his waist.

“That’s a generous pour,” Daniel said from behind Yang. He had changed into a loose-fitting T-shirt that looked soft to the touch.

“What?” Yang asked, before realizing the glass was on the verge of spilling over.

“Alles is goed, as the Dutch would say.” Daniel leaned down and took a long sip from the glass. “Oh my god, that’s delicious. That woman knows her wine.”

Now that he’d admitted to himself how he felt about Daniel, Yang was hyperaware of their closeness. All he could smell was the bitter citrus of Daniel’s cologne mixed with the fruity aroma of the wine. With an unsteady hand, he poured a second glass for himself and downed it like his life depended on it.

All the while, Daniel seemed to be completely oblivious to the effect he was having on Yang. He picked up his wine and walked away, leaving Yang to drink alone in the void he left behind.

“Should I change?” Yang asked, remembering Daniel’s rule about outdoor clothes. That earned him an appreciative smile.

He was constantly surprised by how little he had to do to earn Daniel’s appreciation, like Daniel wasn’t used to being treated with consideration.

In the bathroom, Yang changed into the same set of clothes he’d had on last time. The maroon T-shirt that read Universiteit van Amsterdam hung loosely on him. As he sat down on the bed with another glass of wine, a wave of déjà vu washed over him. The last time he was here, in this exact same position, Daniel had told him about his “sleep paralysis monsters.” He let out a chuckle at the nonsensical term.

Daniel looked up from his phone. “What’s so funny?”

“Your English.” A corner of Yang’s lips lifted upward. “And all your made-up words—remember ‘sleep paralysis monster’?”

“That’s both super random and kinda mean.” Daniel threw a pillow at Yang, nearly making him spill the wine.

“Stop that,” Yang said with a laugh. He set the glass down on the nightstand just in time to fend off the next projectile. “You do not want me to retaliate, shagua.”

“What did you just call me?” Daniel asked, his eyes curious.

Heat rushed to Yang’s face. He was just as surprised by the term of endearment that slipped out of him.