25.

Was he really free, or was it because of what I said? I'm not sure. But this is the second day Anwar has stayed home, not counting trips to the restaurant or supermarket.

Yesterday morning, before I left for class, I found Anwar sitting silently at the bar counter with a glass of milk and his laptop. I saw him again when I got back from class; he was cross-legged on the sofa, reading something on his iPad. It was a quiet day; we barely touched. Anwar worked while I read a new book nearby. In the evening, Audrey came over.

Anwar drove us out to dinner, dropped Audrey off at her studio for rehearsal, and then we came home to watch Netflix in the living room.

"Goodnight," we said simply.

Honestly, the urge to get back at him melted away before the day even ended. And Anwar's lack of physical contact... made me strangely long for it, even though we were sitting close together all day.

Today was the same. I didn't expect to see Anwar at all. He’s not usually home on weekend mornings. But as soon as I came downstairs, I found him standing at the kitchen counter, a delicious aroma filling the air. As I got closer, I saw it was spinach soup and eggs benedict.

"Hey," he said briefly when our eyes met, a small smile as he gestured towards the breakfast on the bar. "I just got this. Want some?"

What could I say? The delicious smell and my empty stomach, hungry since last night…

"Yeah," I replied. Anwar served me soup and a separate egg dish, adding two crispy bacon strips. "Thanks."

"So, going anywhere today?"

"I don't know, probably not," I replied honestly. Actually, there's a bookstore I wanted to check out, but I'm not sure if I should go today or save it for after class on Monday. My laziness isn't easily overcome.

"What about you? Going anywhere today?" His direct gaze made me uncomfortable. I
ducked my head, spooning soup into my mouth, avoiding his eyes until I heard his answer.

"I have to go to work."

Disappointed? Not exactly, but my heart sank a little, causing me to frown.

"Want to come along?" His next question made me look up immediately. Anwar raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting for my answer.

"Where to?"

"Downtown Manhattan. It won't take long. Just a fitting for a brand."

"Can I?" A little excitement bubbled up inside me. I was curious about the behind-the-scenes workings of a fashion brand. It's not an opportunity you get easily, even if I'm not that into fashion. Besides, I just wanted to see Anwar at work. I didn't think he'd offer so easily.

"You can if you want. It's not a big brand, so they're not that strict. Just don't take pictures inside, especially of the new collection that hasn't been shown yet." I wouldn't have done that anyway. I'm not the type to photograph everything I see. Sometimes it's a disadvantage; all the memories stay only in my head, and those memories fade over time. When I travel
abroad, I try to take more photos than before. Especially this trip to New York. Many of the pictures on my Instagram are taken by Anwar, and sometimes by Audrey.

"Why did you invite me?"

"I didn't want you to stay home alone." His beautiful eyes gazed at me, his charm sending my stomach into a frenzy. But I tried to hide it behind a stoic expression, a mask that almost shattered when he reached out to tuck my slightly long hair behind my ear. His warm fingers brushed against my burning skin.

I prayed I wasn't blushing. Just from that small touch.

"And I wanted to take you on a date."

"A date?" I repeated quickly. "A date...you and me?"

Anwar chuckled softly at my reaction. He nodded, intertwined his fingers with mine, and then drew my hand to his lips. His brown eyes sparkled as he gently kissed the back of my hand.

Feeling that gentle coaxing, my face flushed, and I turned away to look at something else.

"Uh-huh, a date with me?"

"..."

"Do you want to go...?"

"Mmm-hmm."

I didn't know how I felt about what I was seeing.

"Turn left... turn around..." Instructions and the click of a camera shutter followed one
another. Anwar's tall frame, in the brand's clothing, turned this way and that as the designers directed, his expression impassive. After photographing every angle, he would make adjustments as directed by the lead designer.

"Actually, we could add a bit more width to the trouser legs. Right now, they look a
bit…in-between. And the blazer lapel is the same. I think the lapel could be a little bigger.

With the lapel being too small, it gives off a modern Italian suit vibe, and I'm not a big fan of that vibe."

Another woman approached Anwar, extending a finger from the lapel. "About an inch?"

"No, too classic. It'll look old instead of cool. Too deliberate."

I sat by the wall, watching Anwar stand still as everyone crowded around him, examining the clothes on his body. I only just learned what this fitting process entailed. The clothes for the show typically undergo two or three trial fittings, starting from raw fabric. Then they're fitted to see what needs adjusting, repeated until the designers are completely satisfied.

Not being someone in the fashion world, listening to this conversation made me realize I understood even less than I thought. How could a small lapel versus a large lapel make such a difference? A poor cut made clothes look cheap and unattractive, and many other comments were made that I heard but couldn't visually see what made them think that way.

Anwar glanced at me and offered a small smile. He often checked in on me. Sometimes, after finishing a new outfit and while the designers were busy adjusting the outfit on another model, he would come over and chat until he was called back.

"Okay, you can change into the next outfit." By the time the designer said that, Anwar's outfit was covered in pins and chalk markings for numerous alterations.

I watched Anwar leave that spot and walk towards a clothing rack where another group of staff waited. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and let the staff remove it. I pursed my lips, feeling strange seeing him show off his six-pack and then strip down to his underwear in front of a dozen people, while he seemed completely unfazed.

A white turtleneck, a black jacket and trousers, and sneakers. Once he was dressed in the new outfit, Anwar walked over to me.

"Are you bored?"

"It's quite interesting," I shook my head. I'd seen a side of things I'd never seen before, and I'd also seen Anwar in his serious work mode.

It wasn't like when I saw him working on his own designs, sitting quietly sketching or reading something. At those times, he was quiet and reserved, only speaking a few words, seemingly immersed in his own world. Now, his intensity was the same, but it felt relaxed, friendly, and charming... But no matter which mode he was in, I found I couldn't look away. It felt like a pull, a curiosity about what he was thinking, a desire to know him better.

"Almost done. This is the last outfit in the lineup," Anwar leaned on a large table next to me and took a sip of water.

"Is there a big difference between being a model and being a designer?" I rested my chin on my hand, turning my gaze back to the designers and the other model who was now standing in Anwar's place.

"Yes, definitely. Being a model doesn't require as much thought or stress as being a designer. But you never know if you'll get work or not,"

I didn't think Anwar had that problem. He seemed to have a long queue of work lined up.

Even though he said he planned to take a break from modeling to study, I still see him posting lots of jobs on Instagram.

"Where do you want to go, or is there anything you particularly want to do?" he asked.

Seeing me shake my head, he raised one eyebrow. "Nothing at all?"

"Anywhere is fine, but... I'd like to take some pictures."

"Pictures?"

"Yeah. I don't really like having my picture taken. I've been here for several months and still don't have many memories in photos." I looked up into the eyes of the person beside me.

"Could you take some for me?"

"Of course. I can take pictures for you every time we're together." I let out a soft laugh before lowering my head to hide my wide smile.

We chatted for a while longer. It seemed the other model's outfit had some significant issues that needed fixing, which is why it was taking so long. Anwar seemed to be feeling guilty about keeping me stuck there.

"Blue, are you hungry?"

"A little, but I want to wash my face more than anything right now."

"Let's go then." He moved immediately upon hearing that. The tall figure turned to tell the crew and then led me out of the studio, navigating through various rooms until we reached a luxurious modern bathroom.

Anwar let me wash my face. I took a tissue from him, dabbing my face while looking at my reflection in the mirror. My hair's gotten longer; I haven't had a haircut since I've been here.

Maybe I should find time to get one.

"You're not really bored that I brought you here, are you?" Anwar murmured, moving closer until he was standing behind me. His handsome face, visible in the mirror, was so close to mine that I didn't dare turn around. We met eyes in the mirror as his strong arm loosely encircled my waist.

"No, I'm not bored. I like watching you work."

"Why?"

"Well... you're very charming when you're working."

"And not when I'm not?" His soft, low voice teased beside my ear. Anwar tightened his arm, pressing our bodies closer.

"You are, too," I nervously chuckled at this first physical contact in days, before trying to regain my composure and asking, "How's my outfit today?"

It was an outfit I'd chosen myself – a white t-shirt, light-colored jeans, a large beige cardigan, and a dark brown leather belt. Months ago, I never would have imagined myself dressing like this. But being surrounded by people with such strong personalities here has made me much bolder.

"It suits you. Should I take a picture?"

"Let's take one together." I pulled out my phone, then paused as Anwar smiled playfully.

"I'm still wearing this outfit though." He glanced at the new collection he was wearing. Since it's an unreleased collection, photos were prohibited from being posted on social media or shared anywhere.

"I understand..." I replied softly. "It's okay, we don't have to."

"You want a photo together, right?"

He asked teasingly, then pulled me to face him, lifting my chin with his finger until our eyes met.

"I've never had a picture with you."

"I have a way, if you really want to take one."

"How...? Oh!" As soon as I finished speaking, I was lifted and placed on the counter, with his tall frame between my legs. He leaned in close, and I felt his warm breath on my cheek.

"You can just block my outfit from the photo."

"Someone might see us," I whispered, peeking towards the bathroom door. "Are you teasing me?"

"Then let's hurry and take the picture?" He finished with a charming smile, causing me to quickly hand him my phone. I turned back to the mirror as he raised the phone. My ears turned a faint red, not unlike my cheeks, simply from seeing our reflection.

My expression remained composed while Anwar smiled slightly as he took the pictures. The shutter clicked three or four times before he moved closer to show me the photos. I stole a glance at his handsome face up close, noticing tiny, faint freckles on his well-defined cheekbones, then his long eyelashes that fluttered with each blink, and finally his beautiful brown eyes.

I wasn't lying when I said I missed him.

"What do you think?"

"Uh, they're beautiful," It was just a quick, casual shot; I didn't even try, yet they turned out so amazing. But no matter how beautiful they were, I still couldn't post them.

"Let's go," Anwar handed back my phone, as if about to leave. Something made me hold him back.

"Yes?"

"I want to kiss you," I stated directly, seeing Anwar smile before leaning back in.

"Are you not angry anymore?" he murmured softly, tracing his nose against mine playfully. I wrapped my arms around his strong neck and pulled him closer, not answering his question.

I pressed my lips to his gently, moving slowly.

Anwar responded instantly, his sharp teeth gently nibbling my lower lip before his tongue slipped inside. The slow, tender movements made my heart race. Our tongues intertwined, his warm hand gently cupping my face.

All the longing, the yearning for touch, had been completely expressed. It left me feeling light and airy, unable to think of anything. It was the same when he kissed me back, but not wanting to jump to conclusions, I quickly dismissed the thought.

My hands drifted down to rest on his strong chest. I unconsciously moaned softly in my
throat as he sucked on my lip.

Click

The sound of the shutter made me jump. I looked at my phone in Anwar's hand—I hadn't even realized when he'd taken it.

"We need to go back," Anwar took a step back, handing me my phone. When I opened it, I saw a picture of us from just moments ago. Even though I couldn't see ourselves clearly because I had my back to the mirror and was partially obscuring Anwar's face, it was obvious what we were doing.

"Naughty," I looked up, feigning annoyance, while he grinned even wider.

"You were just so cute. I wanted to save it as a memory. Is that okay?"

"Aren't you worried I'll post it on Instagram?" I teased, hopping off the counter.

Anwar occasionally posted photos with Kit on Instagram, but they always looked like normal friends. He'd never posted, nor been tagged in, a couple's photo like this with anyone before; ever.

I expected Anwar to forbid it or ask me not to post it. But he surprised me by readily
agreeing.

"Go ahead, if you want to."

"Aren't you worried about other people seeing it?" As soon as I asked, Anwar laughed as if I'd said something hilarious. He looked deep into my eyes with an unreadable expression.

"If you post it, someone will see it anyway. But I'd rather do what you want."

"What exactly is a date, here…to you?"

"Um, it's when two people, or three if they like that, go out, spend time together, get to know each other better… something like that."

That was the first time I'd received a definition of a date from someone else. In Thailand, a date is usually going to see a movie, having dinner, doing something together. I wasn't entirely sure because I'd never actually been on a proper date before. With P'Phim, we just happened to run into each other at music events. Later, we went out sometimes, but we never called those dates…it was just going out for dinner or shopping as friends, that's all.

So today, I was quite flustered and trying to figure out what a date would even look like.

It was a simple date, the kind that could happen to anyone. We didn't eat fancy food or do anything extravagant. After Anwar finished work, he drove me to a Mexican restaurant. We had fajitas, grilled meat, and drank white sangria. We talked about music and movies we liked.

Anwar likes action and crime movies. He spends most of his free time on Netflix and other streaming platforms. "Sometimes inspiration comes from just a single second in a movie," he said, and then went on to talk about how big fashion brands use movies as inspiration for runway clothing. I could have been a better fashion conversation partner if I knew more about it, but Anwar kept the atmosphere relaxed as usual. Whenever he asked for my opinion and I hesitated, unsure of my answer, Anwar quickly diffused the awkwardness with a joke, a non-serious opinion, or by simply changing the subject.

I enjoy talking to Anwar. He never makes his conversation partners feel stupid or inferior, even if that's actually the case. He weaves his knowledge into the conversation so skillfully that it's always engaging, never preachy or boastful. I love listening to Anwar speak, and I
think I could listen to him for hours without getting bored, even though he doesn't seem like the type to spend that much time in continuous conversation.

After a while, our casual chat shifted into a more serious attempt to get to know each other, something I initiated.

"You're making this sound like an interview," Anwar laughed, his eyes widening as he saw me pull out my phone to search for interview questions.

"Yes, I'll be the interviewer, and you're a famous model on a talk show, how does that sound?" I playfully agreed, chuckling to myself because the persona I was presenting wasn't far from the truth.

"That depends on whether we get paid," a mischievous grin appeared on his face,
unrestrained. Anwar at this moment seemed to have grown fox ears and a tail.

"Well, it depends on how good your answers are…talk show ratings, those kinds of things, right?"

"Sounds more complicated now," Anwar said with a smile, pressing his cheek against his palm as he stared intently at me. "And in this show, can I ask questions back?"

"Sure," What started as an ordinary conversation suddenly became something like a game.

I shifted slightly in my seat before searching for my first question. "Do you consider yourself more of an introvert or an extrovert?"

"It really does sound like an interview," Anwar repeated, chuckling softly. "Um…I enjoy spending time alone, but socializing isn't that difficult."

I think Anwar is more of an extrovert. Just look at him; he's always surrounded by people, the center of attention, and he does it so naturally, so much better than simply saying, "It's not that difficult."

"People might think I'm an extrovert, and maybe I am, but I still think I prefer being alone. There's a middle ground, you know," he licked his lips briefly before raising his glass of something and taking a sip.

"No wonder people think that. You're very good at socializing."

"It's not difficult."

"Not everyone enjoys being around a lot of people," I added.

"I know. Someone once said that," his voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. Anwar lowered his eyes to look at the glass in his hand, before glancing back up at me and
changing the subject. "What's your ideal date like?"

I'd never really imagined a date before.

The question made me pause. I’m not usually the one who chooses in relationships. With my previous partner, it was always him who decided what we did, where we went, or what we ate. But it wasn't hard to imagine what I'd like to do, if I disregarded who I'd be doing it with.

"I'd like to go to a concert, a small one… a band or singer we both like."

"That's it?"

"I can't think of anything else. Go to a concert, then maybe go somewhere quiet to talk, drink beer, laugh. That would be a great date." Anwar smiled faintly as I described my simple ideal date. He probably thought I was incredibly boring from that answer.

When it was my turn, my gaze shifted from Anwar's face back to my phone screen. I swiped my thumb quickly, skimming through it before stopping at a question. I'd never considered asking Anwar these kinds of questions before, but seeing it, I suddenly felt curious.

"How do you define beauty?"

Anwar looked surprised immediately after I finished the question, then let out a little laugh. It sounded like a beauty pageant question or something a philosophy professor might ask on the first day of class. He finished by trying to stifle a smile, his expression serious as if he were searching for an answer. "For people, I guess it's charm, something that people look at
and feel drawn to. Like you. You're beautiful when you smile, because I like it when you smile."

"You're saying I'm charming because I smile?"

"It's one aspect. You're charming in many ways; smiling is just one of them." His honest answer made me blush, but thankfully Anwar helped by looking away. "I once took a class on this, about finding beauty in things we never intentionally looked at before. One person in the class almost cried because they couldn't answer how a vine in their hand was beautiful."

"I probably would have cried too." It sounded difficult. I'm not inherently that deep. How is a vine beautiful...? I'd never thought of it as particularly beautiful, not even initially. In fact, I'd never really thought about vines at all.

"And you?" Anwar swirled the liquid in his glass, causing the light-colored drink to rotate.

"What does love mean to you?"

Because I started to get deep with him first, so he started asking deeper questions back. Or was it just a casual question, not needing a profound answer.

"Love? Love..." I murmured, searching for a suitable answer in my own empty mind. "Love is feeling something for someone, a feeling so strong and intense that you're willing to do many things you never thought you'd do for that person. Changing yourself, being patient, trying to understand them, wanting to be with them for a long time, wanting to do many things together... That's probably it."

Anwar stared at me. Suddenly, an awkward silence descended, heavy as a giant's shadow.

Feeling the stillness hang too long, I cleared my throat softly and smiled broadly. "That's probably it," I said.

"What part of the show are we up to?" He once again rescued the atmosphere. I exhaled deeply, leaning back in my chair in defeat.

"I've lost track."

Before I could say anything else, Anwar's phone buzzed insistently. The situation unfolded like a scene from a movie I'd seen before; he picked up the phone, silenced it, and slipped it back into his pants pocket.

"You're spending a long time with me today," I remarked teasingly. He'd been with me for hours—the longest we'd ever spent together outside, not counting our drinking outings or that time at the gallery.

"Aren't you going to see someone else?"

"No. I want to be with this person." The calm, steady response had a tremendous impact. I quickly grabbed my glass and took a drink to avoid eye contact.

"Shall we go?" He checked his watch. As I nodded, we settled the bill. We returned to his luxurious car. The Benz was a birthday gift from his mother, while the Tesla was one he'd bought himself. He preferred the Tesla, but often drove the Benz to avoid upsetting his mother. I grinned broadly when he told me this.

With nothing else to do, we drove around, casually picking up the question game again. This time, we weren't as serious as the first time, and the conversation flowed smoothly without interruption. As dusk approached, he lowered the top of the luxurious Benz convertible, and I immediately raised one hand in delight.

The glittering lights of New York City at night, a cool breeze on my face and hands.
R&B music playing, and the smile on his perfectly sculpted face that appeared every time his dark brown eyes glanced my way.

I thought this moment made my "dream date" seem like child's play. Everything today, right now, felt so good, I wanted to permanently store it in my memory. And I did just that, pulling out my phone to take pictures: the sky, his perfect profile, the smile that showed off his beautiful teeth, his hand reaching to cover mine when my own grew cold.

As darkness fell, Anwar changed. Questions about hobbies or future career aspirations were replaced with a different kind of questioning.

That's when I felt like he was teasing me.

"Who was the first person to satisfy you?"

"Mysel-"

"Besides yourself," he said brightly, his eyes innocent, as if genuinely curious.

I narrowed my eyes, quickly answering, "You." Of course it had to be Anwar.

It wasn't P'Phim. I'd pleasured him with my hands, and sometimes my mouth, but I usually satisfied myself, or was simply left wanting.

Something… something in the silence made me look at his handsome features again,
noticing a satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips.

Something about that small smile made me feel good.

I lifted my chin, trying to change the subject again with a casual question. "In the summer, choosing only two things, would you rather go to the beach or go camping?"

"Camping."

This time, Anwar didn't make things easy like before. He countered with another question, "When was the last time you pleasured yourself?"

"Uh... two days ago." It felt like someone was shaking my brain and heart simultaneously. I quickly glanced out the car window the moment I saw his sparkling eyes.

"Two days ago? You really mean that?" His earlier calm voice softened. "That's very cruel."

A bright red light appeared in front of us as the car stopped. We were near his house…

I feigned indifference, reaching out to touch his strong thigh, lightly tracing circles with my index finger. I could feel his breath catch, especially when I deliberately moved closer to his groin.

We were silent, Anwar letting me touch him. When I looked at him, I saw the kind of smile he often gave, sometimes catching him biting his lower lip.

Arriving home, I headed upstairs. My hand was gently pulled and held before I even turned on the lights. I stood still, aware of his warmth and the faint scent of his cologne. He drew closer, and I found myself enveloped in a loose hug.

"I'm still curious…"

"Hmmm, ask," I replied softly. How lucky I was that Anwar chose to hug my shoulders
instead of lower.

Otherwise, he would have known how rapidly my heart was beating from his touch, the tone of his voice.

"Two days ago, when you were pleasuring yourself, what were you thinking about?"

He was clearly provoking me. I knew my body was heating up because of this final question.

Images from last night flooded back like a flash flood. What was I thinking about when I touched myself? What could I have been thinking about? My only sexual experience was with Anwar, and it had been amazing every time.

Before I could answer, Anwar turned me to face him.

Seeing his handsome face, the memory of the last time I left Anwar came back to me… the time I left him reeling.

I never thought I could do it, and it felt incredibly good to do it that way. So good I wanted to do it again and again.

"Didn't I already tell you?" I pursed my lips, feeling his tall frame move closer until I could feel his warm breath. "I was thinking about you…"

Anwar's eyes made me want to say more.
I reached up, gripping his strong hips, then crumpled his shirt in my hand. As the
conversation became more embarrassing, I switched to English out of shyness. "I was
thinking about you kissing me everywhere—my chest, waist, thighs…lips. And when I was doing it, I thought it was you making me feel good, you thrusting inside me, making me shiver and moan your name."

Anwar swallowed, as I slowly looked up at him. My hand moved higher, touching his strong, muscular abdomen, trailing upwards to his chest, then his warm neck.

I gently stroked my thumb across his sculpted jawline. "You…"

"Yes…"

"Still want to hug me?"

He grinned, a predatory smile, leaning in until his lips pressed against my temple. "You're the one who should be asking if I still want to hug you."

"Uh, I want it already, um…" I pursed my lips, tilting my neck to offer him access. His bite, that familiar touch, was starting to be agonizing, but what I wanted was even greater.

I wanted him to think about it, I craved it so much it was like torture. It's something I'd been wanting to try, something I'd truly intended to do.

His sharp teeth scraping my skin felt like he was ripping my heart from my chest. My skin tingled. I might have given in to my desires if he continued to touch me like this. Besides, it hadn't even been three days, not even close to the time I'd waited.

"You," I gently pushed him away, and he stopped immediately. "I'm tired today."

Anwar narrowed his eyes. He didn't remove his arm from around me, remaining still as if wanting further explanation.

"How about another time?" I used a pleading tone. I heard him exhale before he rested his forehead against my shoulder, staying still for several seconds before whispering softly,

"Okay. I'm already holding onto your heart." I smiled broadly until he spoke again.

"But know this, next time I won't let you go easily." His low, gentle voice, devoid of any threat, before he stood and looked into my eyes. A playful smile appeared in his gaze.

"I'll do exactly what you've imagined, perfectly…kissing you everywhere on your beautiful body, and fuck you until you can do nothing but moan my name."

"..."

"Just like you imagined, right? Good, isn't it?"