Three Months to Forever Page 10

  “Food,” Sai managed to get out, albeit gravelly with desire.

  Releasing Ben’s hair, Sai reached for the plates and chopsticks and made a plate for Ben, piled high with barbecue meats of all sorts. Then Sai filled his own plate, and they ate in relative silence, Ben still leaning against Sai’s leg. Sai hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he bit into that first piece of roast goose, the flavors exploding on his tongue—smoky, salty, delicious.

  After they finished, they left their plates on the table, and Ben crawled up onto the couch next to Sai. They lay down, Sai on his back, Ben draped over him. They intertwined their fingers on Sai’s chest.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.” It sounded loud in the quiet room, though Ben whispered it.

  Sai stilled his hand where he’d been running it up and down along Ben’s back. It would be easy to deny and blame it on work, on the crazy shit that had gone down almost the minute they stepped back onto Hong Kong soil. But that would be a lie.

  “Yes.”

  Ben shifted onto his elbow so he looked down at Sai with a frown. “Why?”

  “You’re leaving soon.” Acknowledging that truth made Sai’s heart seize in a pain.

  Ben’s frown deepened. “Not that soon.”

  “But you’re still going to leave.”

  “So what, you were planning on ignoring all my messages for the next month?” The hurt was so clear in Ben’s voice, in his eyes, that Sai’s heart seized again.

  He’d been selfish, getting wrapped up in his work, worried about how he would survive once Ben went home. He hadn’t stopped to think about how Ben would interpret his actions now. It was the type of thing his father would do: putting his own interests before those of the person he claimed to care about. It made Sai sick and the delicious food he’d eaten turned sour in his stomach.

  He sat up. “Ben, I’m sorry.” He stared at their clasped hands, fingers alternating in skin tone. By some miracle they had found each other from opposite sides of the world. But just because they fit together better than Sai had ever fit with anyone didn’t mean they could ignore their differences. Sai had been remiss in not recognizing that right from the beginning.

  “I have a habit—a bad habit—of working too much when something is bothering me.” Sai gripped Ben’s hand tightly, drawing strength from the connection to put into words truths he barely acknowledged himself. “It’s easier to work. I can focus on fixing other people’s problems rather than my own.”

  “Am I a problem?” Ben looked devastated, which was exactly the opposite of what Sai was trying to accomplish.

  “No, absolutely not!” He wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the back of Ben’s neck, as if to anchor them together. “If anything, you are the solution, but I have been too blind to see it. I was worried about what would happen when you went home; the fire at the factory provided a good distraction.”

  “You could have just talked to me about it.”

  Yes, he could have. He should have. The fact that that option had never occurred to him just showed how differently he and Ben were wired. Sai might have been the aggressive one in the bedroom, but Ben was proving to be the more assertive one outside of it.

  “Communication is not my strong suit.”

  Ben cocked his head. “You’re a lawyer, you talk for a living.”

  Sai smiled wearily. “No, lawyers argue for a living. Arguing is not typically an effective form of communication.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “You can talk to me, you know. If it’s about work, or your father, or even me. I want to know.”

  Sai’s heart swelled at Ben’s demand, spoken with a confidence that Sai strode for but often missed. He pulled Ben to him, cradling Ben against his chest. He couldn’t guarantee that he’d always remember to talk, or that he’d know what to say. But he could try.

  “Okay.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Ben spoke again. “But we still have a problem, don’t we? I’m still leaving.”

  “Yes,” Sai whispered.

  “But we have now.”

  It was true, they did. But was now enough? Was it worth it when Sai knew there might be heartbreak on the horizon? He squeezed Ben in his arms, probably harder than he should have. And when Ben squeezed back, Sai realized those questions were irrelevant because he was already too far gone. If now was all they had, then he would cherish every second of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday, October 21

  IT WAS still dark out when Sai picked him up at his apartment. The streets were eerily silent for a city typically marked by bustle and noise. With his backpack heavy laden with supplies, Ben stumbled to a stop on the sidewalk. Parked in front of him was an honest-to-God Rolls Royce Phantom, with the back doors opening the wrong way and everything.

  Sai stood between the opened door and the car, his arms resting on top of the doorframe, phone cradled in his hands. He’d been working nonstop for the past two weeks, straight through the last weekend. Ben had taken to bringing him dinner at his office, otherwise they would never have seen each other. The situation with the Leungs was still precarious but had settled enough for Ben to drag Sai out of the office for the day.

  Ben had suggested a hike to get away from the city, but it was Sai who picked the trail and offered to arrange for a ride. Ben thought he had meant a taxi of some sort; never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined a Rolls Royce.

  “Ben?” Sai grinned at him, and Ben could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

  He sputtered for a bit before his tongue managed to form words. “That’s a Rolls Royce.”

  Sai looked at the car as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh, yeah. It’s my father’s. My parents are out of the country this weekend, so their driver offered to take us.”

  “Uh… um… your dad owns a Rolls Royce?” Ben knew Sai’s family was rich, but he didn’t realize they were that rich. “He employs a driver?”

  Sai blinked at him. “Yes.” As if that were perfectly normal.

  Ben snapped his mouth shut and nodded. Okay, no big deal.

  Sai stepped out from behind the door and took Ben’s backpack from him. The trunk popped open, and Sai deposited it inside before holding the back door open for Ben to climb in. The interior was a rich cream color, real leather, baby soft to the touch. He stretched his legs out, and they were almost entirely straight before his feet hit the back of the front seat.

  Sai slipped in the other side and called out something to the driver, who seemed so far away he might as well have been in a different vehicle. The car pulled away from the curb, so smooth it was like floating on air.

  “Ben, are you okay?” Sai asked again, skepticism in his eyes.

  “Yeah, this car is so cool.” Ben wanted to smack himself the minute those words left his mouth. He sounded like a little kid just presented with that year’s trendiest toy. Sai laughed out loud, and Ben’s ears burned with a blush.

  But then Sai reached over the center console and grabbed his hand, intertwined their fingers, and brought them to his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the crinkles around the edges of his eyes spoke volumes. Ben grinned back.

  “There’s just one thing that’s wrong with this car,” Ben said.

  “Oh? And what is that?”

  “Why is this thing here?” Ben tapped at the console separating the two back seats. When Sai frowned in confusion, Ben continued. “We can’t cuddle back here with this thing in the way.”

  Sai burst out laughing again, this time reaching across to grasp the back of Ben’s neck and pull him close for a lingering kiss. “You’re right. It is an impediment.” He sighed. “It appears that my parents do not place as much importance on cuddling in the back seat as you or me.”

  What a shame. They leaned across the barrier, shoulders touching, heads close, hands reaching. They pressed into each other all the way from Ben’s apartment in Sheung Wan to the trailhead of the MacLehose Trail Section 8, deep i
n the New Territories, halfway to mainland China. By the time they got there, the sun was peeking over the horizon, the sky a pale, misty blue, and the air held a slight chill Ben found foreign after a month and a half in Hong Kong.

  Ben grabbed their backpacks from the trunk, while Sai conferred quickly with the driver. Then it was just the two of them and the trail ahead.

  “Do you need to use the toilet?” Sai pointed to the building a few yards away. “There are no toilets once we’re on the trail.”

  Ben rolled his eyes but took Sai’s advice. After they had both emptied their bladders and filled their water bottles, they were off. The trail tended upward in a relatively straight line. Trees towered on either side, letting only the strongest beams of early morning sun through the canopy.

  They walked in silence, accompanied by the sound of dirt crunching under their shoes and birds chirping up above. The forest thinned a little here and there, opening to blue skies, only to grow dense again a few feet beyond. The trail grew steeper, and the stone steps that paved the way became taller. Ben’s heart rate rose, and his breathing grew labored as his body adjusted to the strain of the hike.

  The higher they climbed, the shorter the trees stood, and soon it was just shrubs sprouting out between large slabs of rock. Ben paused and looked around. They were at the top of some ridge, the ground falling away on both sides. In the distance stood other mountains peeking out from the fluffy white clouds. He hadn’t realized how high they were already—it was breathtaking.

  “Come on.” Sai stood a couple of feet away. “There’s more.”

  More? How could there be more? The hills beneath them were a variegated green from the yellowing grass to the deepest hue of the shrubs. In the distance he could see the blue of water and the gray of cities. Above were fast-drifting clouds and the bright morning sun. Ben took a couple gulps of water and continued on.

  The path leveled off as they walked along the top of the ridge. It was easier on their legs, but they had lost the protection of the trees against the sun. Sweat dripped down Ben’s temples and his back, but he followed Sai onward. They hiked for another thirty minutes before a simple structure came into view. A steeple roof on some wooden pillars and a couple of benches underneath. They dropped their backpacks and stood in the shade to rest.

  Sai pointed to the adjacent crest. “See there?” There were cylindrical buildings with white dome tops. “That’s the Hong Kong weather observatory. That’s the very highest point in all of Hong Kong.”

  “Is that where we’re going?”

  “It’s not open to the public. But we’ll pass by it.”

  The highest point in Hong Kong and just the two of them with all the city laid at their feet. They were, literally, on top of the world. Ben smiled, a little light-headed at the thought.

  Sai slipped his hand over Ben’s, and Ben gave it a squeeze. Fingers intertwined, palm against palm—somehow it felt more intimate than when they were naked together in bed. Wandering out from the shade, they scrambled over some rocks to the edge of the mountain, where there was nothing below them but air. Hand in hand, they stood, them against the world, and Ben knew in the deepest part of his soul there was no one else he’d rather stand there with than Sai.

  He stepped a little closer and propped his chin against Sai’s shoulder as the clouds floated past and the wind blew on their faces. “I love it up here. It’s so quiet and peaceful.”

  Sai didn’t respond at first, and they continued to stare out at the blue sky and distant city beyond. “Sometimes I come up to the mountains like this and I don’t want to go back down,” he said, then paused to take several long, deep breaths. “Life is so messy and complicated, but everything is simple up in the mountains. I just walk and breathe. When I’m tired, I stop and have a drink or eat a snack. There are no demands, no deadlines to meet. It’s just me and nature.”

  The sorrow in Sai’s voice was so poignant that Ben’s heart broke for him. He wanted to comfort him, but all the words that came to mind felt empty and trite. What could he possibly say that Sai didn’t already know?

  Sai shook his head and huffed a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so melancholy.” He gave Ben’s hand a squeeze and turned back to where they had abandoned their bags.

  But Ben stood his ground and tugged him back. “Thank you for telling me. You don’t ever have to be sorry for sharing things with me.”

  From the other side of Sai’s sunglasses, Ben saw the shadow of Sai blinking his eyes rapidly. Then Sai tilted his head back as if he were gazing up at the clouds overhead. With a shuddering sigh, he dropped his head down, chin to chest.

  Ben squeezed Sai’s one hand and reached for the other to clasp them together. He raised them to his lips to give each one a kiss.

  When Sai lifted his head again, even his sunglasses couldn’t hide the raw emotion on his face. “Where did you come from, Ben Dutton?”

  Ben’s ears flushed at the awe he heard in Sai’s voice. “Um… Canada?” He grimaced at the lameness of his own joke, but Sai burst out laughing.

  It rang out loud and carefree, like the gush of water finally released from a dam. Ben smiled wide at the sound and let himself be pulled into a tight embrace. They were both hot and sweaty from the hike, but Ben molded himself to Sai anyway. Sai’s breath tickled the back of his neck, and Sai’s hands felt nice as he rubbed little circles around his lower back.

  They stood in their embrace under the heat of the sun until Sai pushed his sunglasses atop his head and leaned back enough to look at Ben. Ben followed suit, and what he saw in Sai’s eyes was everything he had ever wanted from a lover: not only love, but respect, admiration, and trust.

  He leaned in and captured Sai’s lips, unable to contain his hunger. He took, clinging to Sai’s shoulder, searching out the corners of Sai’s mouth and drawing what he needed. Then suddenly they shifted, and Sai was kissing him, digging one hand in his hair, knocking off his hat, and angling them into a deeper embrace. Ben surrendered to it, giving Sai everything he had to give.

  By the time they broke apart, panting with their foreheads still touching, everything was different. Ben couldn’t quite explain it, and he didn’t really want to. But an unmistakable shift had occurred, and when he pulled back far enough to look into Sai’s eyes, he knew he had felt it too. The mountain had changed them.

  Voices drifted up to them, reminding Ben their little paradise was far from private, and soon after, footsteps announced the arrival of other hikers. As much as he would have liked to stay on that mountaintop forever, it was time to move on.

  The trail from that point forward was paved, easier to walk but nowhere near as alluring as the dirt paths of their ascent. It climbed upward, winding back and forth in switchbacks so tight Ben grew a little dizzy—he blamed it on the altitude. They passed the gated entrance of the observatory and from there started their descent.

  The route down the mountain was as unromantic as their climb up was otherworldly, although the view was no less impressive. They followed the paved access road carved into the side of the mountain, their progress marked by hydro poles and cracked asphalt. Hikers taking the opposite direction crawled by them, huffing, while they seemed to fly down much faster than Ben would have liked.

  All too soon they came upon a guard house and a gate that stretched across the road. On the other side was a small parking lot, and Ben spotted the Rolls Royce sitting there, waiting for them. Ben staggered to a stop, and Sai turned a couple of steps ahead.

  “Ben?”

  He was such a child, pouting because he had to leave a party and go home. But Sai seemed to understand his hesitation. He came back for Ben, and they stood facing each other for a couple of moments, gazing into each other’s eyes and commemorating what they had just experienced together.

  “Ready?” Sai breathed after a while.

  Ben nodded. They were going back to the real world, but they were going back together.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fr
iday, October 27

  THE DAY after they went hiking, Sai effectively moved into Ben’s little studio apartment. He had gone home after dropping Ben off and returned later that evening with a small suitcase full of clothes. Ben had already cleared space in the closet for him.

  Sai still worked long days and late into the night, and Ben still brought him dinner in the evening. But then Sai would call in the wee hours of the morning to be let in, and they’d curl up together in bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

  Now it was Friday, and instead of going out with Mo and the girls, he was sitting at home, waiting for Sai to call. He had promised to leave work early. Ten thirty turned to eleven and eleven to twelve before Sai staggered in, tie swinging loose around his neck, hair disheveled and bags under his eyes so dark it looked like he’d gotten punched in the face.

  “Oh my God, Sai.” Ben pushed him down on the bed and started pulling off his clothes. “You look like the walking dead. You’ve been working too hard.”

  Sai let out a heavy breath but didn’t argue, staring up at the ceiling, although Ben doubted he actually saw anything.

  Ben kneeled on the bed and leaned over until he was in Sai’s line of sight. “Seriously. You’re working too hard. You have to stop.”

  Sai lifted a hand and threaded his fingers into Ben’s hair. Even that simple movement felt tired, as if it took more strength than Sai had left in him. Ben bent lower at the small tug Sai gave him. The kiss was slow, lazy, more a way to connect than anything else.

  “I need to shower,” Sai muttered against Ben’s lips.

  “You’re exhausted. You’ll probably fall over in there.”

  “Come with me. You’ll hold me up.”

  Ben barked a laugh. “It’s too small. We won’t both fit.”