Page 20 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
“We got off on the wrong foot,” I offer, trying to remember the human phrase to break the mind-numbing silence.
“We addressed that already,” Mateo says, voice shaky.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for cornering you, accusing you of a crime you couldn’t have committed, and bothering you at work. I’m sorry I can’t get us out of this closet. I’m sorry you’re trapped in here with me, Mateo. I’m so sorry.”
There. I leave it all out there in the open and wait. My barista freezes in my arms, gazing up at me with wide eyes. Those beautiful, big brown eyes. Mateo doesn’t speak, barely breathes, and then he releases a sigh so heavy he must’ve carried it inside him for weeks.
“Thank you,” he says simply, without hesitation, then leans his head against my chest so I can’t see his face anymore.
We stand like that in the darkness for far too long. I cast furtive glances at my phone, willing the battery to turn on suddenly, or for Mateo to have his damn phone. But my magicisn’t electricity-based. Unable to bear it any longer, I again take my advice and attempt to sway Mateo to my side, seeing as we’re alone.
“You are brave, you know that?” I say.
“What do you mean?” he mumbles against my chest as I groan.
“You’re not a fan of tight spaces,” I state the obvious.
“You can say that again,” he jokes, but there’s no hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“I’m sorry. Forget it. I’m just not a fan of awkward silence,” I say.
“You don’t have to apologize for everything now, okay? And I get it. Trying not to have a panic attack or I’d yap away,” Mateo snorts.
Damn it. I don’t want us to argue. I’m tired of arguing.
“I just wish… we could… I don’t know, work together. I’m not saying, saying sorry, will suddenly fix everything. But I hope we can be more friendly from now on,” I say, clenching my teeth.
“Work together on what? What, finding the painting my parents supposedly stole? Look, I have no idea. It’s gone, sold,” he says, breathing evening out.
“Yes, that, but also just speaking civilly to each other. I come to the cafe every day for a reason, seeing as I need my coffee to stay up. It would be nice not to have all that animosity in the air looming over my latte,” I attempt a joke, but it barely lands since he only cracks a half-smile.
“You brought that on yourself, buddy, but hey, let bygones be bygones. I’m not one to hold a grudge once someone apologizes,” he says, flashing me a bright, yet blissfully sweet smile, “Though this isn’t what I imagined when you said you’d grovel for me. I thought you’d be on hands and knees at least.”
I doubt that Mateo doesn’t hold grudges, seriously doubt that, but I don’t press the issue. And I also ignore how my cockstwitched at Mateo’s playful tone when he mentioned me grovling on hands and knees.
“It’s wonderful to be brave, but you don’t have to pretend with me here, alright? Breathe,” I add, since his chest is fluttering again.
“Sometimes you can not be a jackass, and it’s sort of nice. I thought I’d have to rock your shit again by now. So it’s nice to see the real you. I like it. I appreciate your help. Thank you, Ranbir,” Mateo says.
“Is there a single thing you like about me? Certainly, you see at least one good quality in me,” I ask, shifting uncomfortably as the silence drags and, inconceivably, drags on.
Maybe I’m the only one feeling the uncontrollable urge to rail his filthy mouth. On second thought, yeah, I’m the only one. Damn my horniness. Damn it to the lowest pits of the hells!
“Your lisp,” Mateo says, “Sorry if that’s offensive. But look, you were berating me about my body not that long ago. And you did say to be honest while we’re here.”
“My what?” I ask, genuinely confused. I don’t mind how close he is; his warmth and gentle scent soothe me, but I lose a little more of my royal training every time Mateo opens his mouth.
Despite my annoyance with my barista, I wonder how wet and warm that insolent mouth would be, especially struggling to take my cocks. Maybe that would wipe that smirk off his lips. Or perhaps it would make him smile even brighter than he did.
“Your lisp. The way you slur your s’s. It’s…” he pauses, frowning, then shrugs, “It’s a loveable quirk, I guess. The rest of your personality is shitty, but when you say sssshitty it’s pretty funny, you know.”
I’m too stunned by this revelation to comment on the dig at my personality.
“Also, I like it when you comfort me,” he whispers, then stands up taller, so that the top of his head brushes the bottom of my chin. “I didn’t ask you to. But you did.”
“You know, in my country we usually say thank you when someone goes out of their way to help you,” I say, getting whiplash from the sudden shift in the mood.
“I know, but I… I’m more than thankful. This phobia is bad. Like I usually end up in bed for days after, type of bad. And yet, I feel so… So…Safe.With you, Ranbir. And I don’t know why,” Mateo admits, stunning me into silence this time around. “I feel like I should be saying more than thank you right now.”
