Page 87 of Contested

“It still counts if you put your face into my sock,” Sebastian said.

Marcos spun, and blood rushed to his cheeks, and his eyes flicked to the floor. “Fuck off.”

“It’s cool. I’m pretty open.” Sebastian smiled, his gaze dropping to the photo. “Are you snooping?”

“I’m nosey.”

“I gathered.” Sebastian stepped forward, taking the frame from Marcos, his eyes running over it. “That’s Loren, my sister.”

“What’s the word on the back?”

Sebastian raised his brow and checked. “Oh, that’s her Vietnamese name.”

“K-why-n?” Marcos tried, and Sebastian’s mouth tightened as he stifled a laugh.

“Kinda close. Kw-in.”

Marcos hummed and watched as Sebastian placed the photo back on the shelf before looking out the window and into the night.

The game tomorrow pushed itself back into Marcos’ head then, badly timed and impossible to keep out.

Marcos knew he would have to go home. Sleep. Prepare for the game the following night. But for the first time since Sebastian had kissed him, he didn’t want to leave. Something in his gut stirred, but it wasn’t anything he was afraid of.

“So, do you also have a Vietnamese name?” Marcos asked, and Sebastian turned to face him.

“Yeah.”

“Sebastian is a fake name?”

“What? No.” Sebastian chuckled. “No, no. Sebastian is my legal name. But I also have a Viet name.”

“Which is?” Marcos pressed.

Sebastian pursed his lips, tilting his head from side to side, crossing the room to stand in front of Marcos. “A secret.”

“Really? You’re not going to tell me?”

Sebastian brought his lips to Marcos, quick and gentle, before pulling away again. “Nope.”

Marcos gaped as Sebastian walked out of the room. He followed, keeping a few steps behind him. “Why not?”

“I think it’s funny.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.” Marcos nodded, resting his hands on the kitchen counter once they reached it. “Well, you know what I think is funny?”

Sebastian raised his brow.

“You’ve never said my name right before.”

“Marcos?”

“Yep.”

“Marcos,” Sebastian said firmer.

“Wrong.”

“Marcos.”