The motel room smells like mildew and cigarette smoke. I sit on the edge of the lumpy mattress, staring at the laptop open on the rickety table in front of me. Work emails still pour in despite my supposed vacation, but I can't focus on the spreadsheets. Not when he's in the bathroom, the sound of the shower masking the thoughts I don't want to acknowledge.

Yesterday feels like a lifetime ago—finding him drunk on my doorstep, the impulsive decision to drive to the coast, the tense silence in the car broken only by his occasional bitter laughter. We've been circling each other for years, but something about this trip feels different.

The shower turns off. My heart rate quickens despite my attempts to remain calm. When he emerges, towel slung low on his hips, water droplets clinging to his long dark hair and trailing down his chest, I force myself to look away.

"Still working?" His voice is low,带着一丝嘲弄. He crosses the small space between us, and I can feel the heat of his body even before he sits beside me on the bed.

I close the laptop, too aware of how little space there is between us. "We should talk about yesterday. About what you said."

He laughs, a sound that doesn't reach his eyes. "Which part? The part where I said I wanted to disappear into the ocean? Or the part where I kissed you?"

My throat goes dry. "Both."

He leans closer, his hand brushing my cheek. "Which one are you more interested in, gege?"

The old nickname sends a shiver down my spine. Before I can respond, he kisses me again—slow, deliberate, claiming. And this time, despite everything I know is wrong, I don't pull away.