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“You’ve done that before?”
“No,” Joq replied and sat up. Chris moved back with the movement, but kept one hand on Joq’s hip. He wondered where Delia was. Probably in his bed, where he needed to be. “I’m going to bed.”
“Okay, I’ll get you some painkillers,” he replied easily, but Joq did not miss the curious look. “And when you wake up, we can book a trip to Thailand.” He was moving around in the kitchen when Joq shuffled past and still talking. “I haven’t been to Thailand in ages.”
Joq ignored him. He undid his pants once he was in his room. Delia was on the pillow. He shoved his pants down, pulled off his shirt and got on the side opposite her.
Chris came in, his feet soft on the carpet. “Here you go,” he said gently, a repeat of that morning. It’d only been a day and Joq felt like he’d lived a lifetime of drama. This is why he didn’t want a boyfriend.
But as Chris sat at his hip and rubbed his back over the covers Joq thought, well, this was pretty damn nice too.
Joq rolled over to sunshine blaring on his face.
“You’re awake?” Chris grinned down at him.
He was sitting up against the headboard, phone in one hand, Delia on his lap while he patted her with the other hand. She was purring.
“What time is it?” he asked. He rubbed his jaw and winced.
“Almost lunchtime and here,” Chris leaned over, careful not to dislodge Delia as he reached for painkillers, handed them to Joq, then reached back for the glass of juice.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Joq asked as he sat up and took the glass.
“Day off to look after my sick partner,” Chris replied, his eyes dropping around a pleased smile after he said it.
Joq took the pills, drank all the juice in one go and handed the glass back. He dropped back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.
“You’re famous,” he said.
“Not really,” Chris replied.
“So if I Google you, nothing will come up?” Joq asked and opened his eyes. “‘Cos if you Google me, nothing will come up.”
Chris tapped the edge of his phone but didn’t reply.
“Type your name in and show me,” Joq said.
Chris rubbed his forehead with his wrist, hand still clutching the phone. “The person who comes up is not me.”
“So, you’re not an heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country and a billionaire tech CEO?” Joq asked.
“No, I am, but, I think,” he dropped his hand and looked at Joq. He was rumpled like he’d slept in his clothes, hair a tousled mess, but his eyes were clear, warm yet nervous where he looked at Joq. “I think, it’s not relevant. You said I’d keep you secret? I’d never do that. I don’t want to do that. I’m not in the closet. So if that’s the only problem, there’s no problem.”
“But you lied about it,” Joq sat up.
“No,” Chris countered, giving Joq room, “I never said anything because I didn’t know if you already knew. And besides, it’s not exactly something that’s easily worked into a conversation without sounding like a complete tool, ‘hey, by the way, I’m a billionaire, will you stop ghosting me now?’”
Joq winced.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have done that but this is a separate issue.”
“What is the issue?” Chris asked.
And his phone rang.
Joq watched him silence it, lean over and shove it into the bedside table drawer. When he rolled back he met Joq’s eyes with a serious expression.
