CHAPTER 552: SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH HIM TONIGHT (PART ONE)

The bathroom was already thick with humidity after the door had slammed shut behind them, sealing the two of them in. Steam clung to the air in soft, hazy layers, blurring the mirror and casting a faint sheen over the tiled walls. The overhead lights reflected off the wet fabrics clinging to their bodies.

The showerhead in Clyde’s hand was still running, spraying a steady stream of warm water that pattered against the tiles and splashed against both of them.

Micah stood against the wall, silver hair sticking to his cheeks where droplets clung to the strands. The young man’s breathing was sharp, chest rising and falling under his soaked shirt. Clyde stepped toward him, slowly and deliberately, until his shadow fell over Micah. He stopped close enough that Micah could feel the warmth radiating off his body even through the mist.

Clyde tilted his head, eyes narrowing at the sight of Micah glaring at him. The nerve... accusing him of looking at someone else while Micah was the one who was attached to Ilyas like an adjoined twin. He chuckled suddenly. "You are the one to talk," he said, voice low. "You were all over him, yet you got jealous because I looked at him?"

"All over him? I was just looking after him." Micah scoffed, trying to defend himself.

"Looking after him?" Clyde smirked, eyes full of mockery. "Is that the new vocabulary for flirting?"

"Flirting? Who? Me?" Micah snorted loudly, water dripping from his chin. "Please... he is just timid. Don’t let that cold expression fool you. I saw his hands shaking through half the audition. He was stiff, like actually stiff, because he was anxious. It was such a surprise. Even though his older brother works in the Ramsy Empire, he is still that nervous."

Clyde caught the important section, eyebrows ticking upward. "His older brother works in the Ramsy Empire?"

Micah nodded, brushing wet hair out of his eyes. "Yeah. I don’t know who he is. But Ilyas told me himself." he paused, then his glare returned, sharper now. "Don’t change the subject. Why the hell were you so focused on him? You didn’t even hear me talking."

The shower water splashed against the floor around their shoes. With a small sigh, Clyde lowered the showerhead and reached over to turn off the faucet. The sudden quiet made their breathing stand out in the space between them. Both of them were dripping, shirt plastered to their torsos, droplets running down their arms, soaking the bathroom floor. The earlier pull and push between them had resulted in this mess.

Clyde rubbed a hand over his forehead, pushing back his wet blond hair. "I thought..." he hesitated, voice softening. "... you were interested in him."

"You thought he was your rival?" Micah asked, blinking before a smile appeared on his face.

Clyde’s expression tightened, but one corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward as Micah’s mood brightened. He nodded, deciding not to say anything about the real reason. He didn’t want to spoil Micah’s first experience in the entertainment industry by saying ’Hey, someone would kidnap Ilyas and your family company would get a hit.’ No. He would make sure nothing happened to this project. He would let Micah enjoy this experiment without burdening him with the horrible possibility.

Seeing Clyde admit, Micah threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, you are so stupid."

Clyde gave him a look. "I’m stupid? Who was the one throwing a tantrum about our relationship being nothing, threatening to see others?"

Clyde planted his hands against the tiles, trapping Micah between himself and the cold bathroom wall. Micah’s shoulders hit the tile, and he stiffened, face flushing.

Micah averted his eyes, muttering, "I was just angry..."

"So every time we fight," Clyde leaned in, "you want to go looking for other men?"

Micah’s hand flew to Clyde’s chest, fingers gripping the wet fabric as he pushed him back slightly. "You’re being unreasonable. I thought you were mesmerised by him... I would never go that far..."

Clyde’s breath ghosted over Micah’s cheek as he bent toward him again. "But you see, I am an insecure man. You don’t call me your boyfriend. You never introduce me to people. You hide me like you are ashamed to be with me... of course, I would get anxious..." Clyde said, his pale blue eyes fixated on him without wavering.

Micah squirmed, trying to shift away from the intensity of that gaze. "You know it’s not the time for that... Darcy still hasn’t reconnected with my family. If I say anything about you, things might get complicated..."

"Really?" Clyde breathed, lowering his voice until it practically vibrated against Micah’s skin. "In that case, you should compensate me..."

His gaze dropped to Micah’s collarbone, where the soaked shirt clung to him like a second skin. The fabric outlined everything: the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his waist, the faint indentation of his sternum. Micah was lean rather than bulky, his frame defined by smooth, flexible lines rather than muscle mass. Water dripped down the line of his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt.

Clyde’s eyes darkened.

Micah stiffened, sensing the trap closing around him, like a predator had set its sights on him. But still he asked. "How?" he whispered, though he already regretted it.

Clyde smiled, slow and dangerous. "You need to use your head a little."

Micah gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing. His pupils dilated. There was something about Clyde when he was like this, possessive, jealous, controlled, that made adrenaline spike in Micah’s veins. It all gave Micah a shiver.

Clyde’s smile deepened. He stepped away at last. "Take a shower. I’ll get you fresh clothes," he said and left the bathroom.

Micah stood frozen, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

"I’m screwed," he muttered. He had practically given Clyde ammunition to use against him. What compensation?

He dragged a hand through his wet hair, releasing a sigh. As the coldness of the bathroom wall became prominent, he straightened his posture and took off his drenched shirt. Then his pants. The fabric slapped wetly against the tiles as he dropped them.

Clyde’s words repeated in his head, admitting he got jealous. A goofy grin crept onto his lips. He felt stupidly happy for a second. Then remembered the rest of the day, and his expression twisted.

He finished showering quickly, then stepped out with only a towel around his waist, droplets running down his chest, glowing under the bathroom lights.

He looked around for the clothes but found nothing. He walked into the room, calling out. "Clyde, where are my clothes?"

No answer.

Grumbling, Micah peered around, then moved toward the living room, water still dripping from his hair onto the carpet.

He halted all of a sudden. Clyde was on the sofa in the dimly lit living room, dressed casually in black pyjamas, one leg crossed over the other. He didn’t look surprised to see Micah. If anything, his gaze sharpened slightly as he took in Micah’s bare torso and the towel slung low around his hips.

Micah pointed accusingly. "Hey, you said you’d get me fresh clothes. Where are they?"

Clyde lifted his chin lazily, eyes sliding over him. He gestured at the empty space beside him with a tilt of his fingers. "Here."

Micah approached, muttering curses under his breath about annoying, inconsiderate Clyde, who couldn’t carry clothes three meters.

He leaned to grab the pyjamas, but Clyde’s hand shot out, catching his wrist. "Have you thought about it?" he murmured.

Micah blinked, feigning ignorance. "About what?"

"Compensating me?" Clyde asked.

"Hah," Micah snorted, loud and taunting. "Freshen my memories, why should I? You were the one who put a manager to spy on me. Then you handed me like a sack of flour. And suspicious as hell, you thought I was cheating..."

His words trailed off when Clyde tugged sharply, pulling him down. Micah lost balance and fell forward, landing sprawled across Clyde’s lap. His towel nearly slipped, and his eyes went wide. "Fuck! I am half naked! What the hell?"

Clyde’s arms slipped neatly around Micah’s waist, locking him in place. "Go on..." he murmured. "Why did you stop? Count my mistakes."

Micah froze, not because of the fall. Not because of the position. But because Clyde’s warm hands were on his bare waist, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above his hips.

Heat shot up to Micah’s spine and down his thighs. His face flushed instantly. Micah averted his eyes, afraid to look at Clyde and embarrassed himself more.

Clyde watched him with a satisfied look, one thumb stroking absent circles against Micah’s skin as if testing how sensitive he was.

Micah’s breath hitched. Embarrassment turned to anger. His hands grasped Clyde’s shoulders and pushed himself back, trying to escape from his peculiar predicament.

Clyde eased him back down into his lap, a teasing smile on his face. "Where are you going? You forgot your clothes," he said while his hand went down.

Micah exploded. "You are such a bully!" he grabbed Clyde’s wandering hand in fright.

They were playing a dangerous game. He didn’t know what had overcome Clyde tonight, making this rigid and uptight man behave like a rogue.

But Micah was afraid he would lose control. The man he wanted for so long was finally in front of him, openly seducing him, yet instead of delight, something bitter rose in Micah’s chest.

Clyde was not himself. He was acting too strangely.

And Micah didn’t like it.