Enrique

My hair was still damp from the shower, currently more willing to work with me since Oliver had recommended a few products and falling in alignment much more properly since I'd gotten it cut to a manageable length. I had listened to what he'd told me, no longer trying to brush my hair straight and instead working with my natural curls. I couldn't quite tell if I liked it or not, adjusting my tie that was done properly for once and pulling my burgundy blazer off of the hanger where it sat behind me, throwing it on before adjusting the cuffs of my dress shirt. I wasn't keen with the fact that it wasn't the same color as my pants, which were a medium gray, but it did match my tie and Oliver had been adamant that I fit in better this way, combining what he referred to as an accent piece with a neutral color, whatever that meant.

Hair? Styled.

Face? Washed and freshly shaven.

Clothes? Pressed.

I had to admit, I looked good. Really good.

Spraying a small dose of cologne on myself, I walked out of the bathroom just as the knob to my bedroom opened, Oliver giving me a shy smile as he walked into my room. We had decided it would be best that he sleep in a guest room last night, unsure if we trusted ourselves to share a bedroom after everything that had happened between us within the past few months.

"Wow," He said quietly, looking me up and down with the tiniest grin. "You look really handsome."

"Thanks to you." I smirked.

Like me, he had gotten a haircut before the gala, now dawning a bob that came just above his shoulders and gently framed his face. He had given his bangs, which had grown in length since the day I saw him at his art gallery and were now blending more into the rest of his hair, a gentle run through with a curling iron, causing a natural looking flip and keeping them out of his eyes. Deciding to go without a blazer, he wore a cloudy blue dress shirt, sleeves coming up above his elbows, with a light navy cashmere sweater vest which clung to the shape of his body. My eyes were drawn to the fact that he was wearing a bow tie, which was a much more vibrant shade of blue. I swear, only Oliver could pull off a bow tie.

He was fidgeting with a brown newsboy cap he carried in his hands, the same color as his shorts which I wondered might be a part of an old school uniform. Positioning it on his head at a slight angle, he carefully brushed a finger through the hair that had moved out of place.

"You look… incredible, Oliver." I blushed, taking a few steps closer to him. I couldn't tell if he had naturally long and thick eyelashes or if he had applied a layer of mascara, something I couldn't say I would put past him. He definitely had powder on his face, but I was pretty sure it wasn't make up and gave off a hint of a lavender scent.

"Thank you." He smirked. "It took me awhile to decide between a vest or suspenders."

To be honest, it felt a tad strange seeing him dressed the way he currently was, suddenly looking like a young man and not as in touch with his feminine side, which was the look I was more used to. Oliver wasn't normally one to abide by gender rolls the way that most people did and I had to question if he was going out of his way to fit in more with my family and me. We were attempting to develop a relationship closer to the one we'd had when we were kids, meaning I had to hold myself back from kissing him and instead brought him in for a side hug, a tiny tingle filling my chest when he nuzzled his head into my shoulder.

"You look good in everything," I stated, flicking him on the forehead before walking to the door. "My brother and sister are probably waiting downstairs."

My two oldest brothers had gone with their wives and my niblings right after lunch in order to get hotel rooms set up if the kids needed a break from all the socializing, and since my oldest sister lived with her husbands family I hadn't been filled in on how her and my brother in law would be arriving, although I could assume it was a similar situation. Their daughter was too young to accompany them yet but seeing as my sister was current very pregnant, it was safe to say the chances of a nanny accompanying the family and keeping my niece in a room or with her cousins was likely.

"Who are we riding with?" Oliver asked.

"We're gonna take the limousine. My parents already left to do greetings so it'll be the two of us with Emilio and Ellie."

Although a lot of time had passed since we had been back in each others lives, Oliver knew my brother and sister well, the twins being close enough in age to me where we had been in school at the same time.

"Emilio isn't bringing his girlfriend?"

"Pretty sure they broke up, he's been home a lot lately and I haven't seen her around."

I had held my arm out for him to hold without thinking, freezing in place at the realization and waiting for him to respond to my mistake. Thankfully he simply smiled, giving me a gentle bump on the shoulder before opening the door while keeping a gap between the two of us.

"Ciao, Eliana!" He called happily, running off to the spiral staircase my sister was currently walking up.

"You two are gonna make us late." She scolded gently, still stopping to give him a kiss on the cheek. Although they weren't close, she had always had a soft spot for him, taking a liking to Oliver's company much more than she had at Robert or Johnny's, even when the latter wasn't attempting to hit on her. It would be a cold day in hell before Johnny McGregor became my brother-in-law.

"We have an hour before anything is even supposed to start," I reminded her. I had never understood why the women in my family always seemed to think we needed to be early in order to be on time. "If you were so set on punctuality then you should have left with mama and papa."

Pocketing my hands, I followed them downstairs and out the door where the chauffeur was waiting for us, Ellie now engaged in a conversation with Oliver in French and Emilio having yet to bother taking his eyes off of his phone as we loaded ourselves into the back.

"And listen to mama question why I don't have a date for three hours?" Ellie laughed, as she buckled into the seat, showing that she had in fact been listening to me. "Yes, that sounds like a lovely time."

"Point taken," I chuckled.

"So, Oliver," She continued, smiling at him as she grabbed a bottle of wine. "Do you have a boyfriend yet?"

"Not exactly," He mumbled, blushing slightly and working over time in order to not make eye contact with me, something that caused a gentle heat to fill my own cheeks as well. "I have one ex."

"How old are you, again?"

"Twenty two."

"You're still so young, you have plenty of time."

"Your mother said something about dating to me as well," Oliver mentioned. "Something about the ladies probably being all over me."

I was the one to perk up this time, scrunching my face in confusion as I looked at him.

"Hang on… she did?"

My parents knew Oliver was gay and even if years had passed since I had brought the topic up to them, they had known him when he was young and must have had some idea. Like with our friends, it wasn't something my parents talked about, sweeping it under the rug as best they could and moving on without speaking on it again. Even so, that didn't stop the fact that Oliver didn't behave the way the rest of us boys did at that age and it hadn't taken us long to catch on to what some of his quirkiness could mean.

"I'm sure she just meant that girls have crushes on you." Ellie spoke, "You're very charming and clean cut; a lot women wish their men were like that."

"Hang on," Emilio finally took his eyes off his cell phone, jumping into the conversation. "That's not actually true, is it?"

"I've caught you chewing on your toenails, Lio, you aren't exactly the man of any girls dreams."

"I've been in more relationships than you, at least."

"Meaning you've been dumped more times than me."

I smiled at Oliver, shrugging my shoulders at my siblings bickering. I likely would have been involved with the argument as well in most situations, such as bragging about the fact that I'd had an active sex life before either of them despite being the youngest, which I guess isn't necessarily a good thing now that I think about it. Thankfully it didn't take long for the arguing to die down, the remainder of the short ride enjoyed in silence as we passed around the bottle of wine.

Pulling to the front of the hotel, Oliver peeked out the window of the limousine, a large smile now filling his face as he got a look at the crowd of people. Don't get me wrong, it was far from a red carpet event, but there were a fair amount of reporters mingling with the smartly dressed men and women, some of whom were related to me and some who I recognized from my fathers work. I could tell just by the look in his eyes that Oliver was hoping to be interviewed, a favorite past time of his when we were younger that he clearly still got enjoyment out of.

"I actually don't use Italian very often outside of work deliveries," He said, switching languages with the flip of a switch and without the five to ten second pause it took normal people. "My accent isn't too thick, is it?"

"The French one, no, the Parisian one, yes. You sound like you're gonna ask me what brand clothing I'm wearing and judge me regardless of my answer."

He smacked me playfully.

"I'm serious."

"I think they're here to talk about the event, not to interview attendants. You aren't even one of our donors."

He protruded his lower lip in a small pout, exiting the limo as soon as our chauffeur opened the door and needing to stop himself from running ahead of me, clearly eager to see the set up inside.

"Sorry," He smiled, fidgeting his feet as he waited for me to catch up. "It's been awhile since I've been to a large party where I wasn't helping the kitchen staff. My father has events like this a few times a year too, but it's usually something that specifically involves the restaurant chain and since he's usually a part of the actual committee, I'm always put in charge of food."

"Yeah, I'm sure you wouldn't be as keen to be on camera if you were wearing a hair net."

We walked together, keeping just enough distance between the two of us as to not be questioned in regards to our relationship and giving my mother a quick wave at the top of the steps where she was discussing the charity event with a reporter; discussing the estimated amount of money we were hoping to bring in this year.

Immediately upon entry we were met by a waiter offering us each a glass of champagne, which we took without hesitation before finding one of the tables that had specifically been reserved for family and skimming the placement cards.

"They spelled my last name wrong." Oliver stated, pulling out the chair for himself and setting the napkin delicately on his lap as he sat. "This says Polanger."

"That might be my fault," I chuckled. "I did the whole thing over the phone so I didn't bother actually spelling it."

"And you're really gonna sit there and mock my accent?" He smirked. "You can't even pronounce my name properly."

"You can't pronounce mine either."

I took the spot next to him, already finished with my drink and hoping someone would come around with wine sooner rather than later. We had both agreed that what we were currently on was not a date, but I couldn't help having the jitters. Thankfully the waiters were quite punctual, offering to fill our glasses nearly as soon as I sat.

"Are these the only wine options?" Oliver asked, eyeing the waiters raised eyebrow before insisting that he would be fine.

"You're just trying not to be a brat." I whispered with a laugh. "You are absolutely not fine."

"I suppose I can accept it just this once."

"Why on earth would a gala put on by my father have French wine?"

"Because I was under the impression that this gala would be classy." He glared with a cheeky smirk.

"Maybe by the end of the night you'll finally get a taste for good wine."

"How drunk are you planning on getting me?"

I poked him in the side, causing him to yelp in surprise. He was still ticklish, which I could use to my advantage if he was gonna keep being cheeky, even if every giggle that left his mouth warmed me inside. The twins came and sat next to us, my sister smirking at our playful banter. It really did feel like old times, like we were friends again.

"Ladies, you're both pretty." She exclaimed, now holding her own glass up for the waiter. "Oliver, you better eat your whole meal, if you get any scrawnier there will be nothing left of you."

"I'll have to wait and see how the cooks did." He shrugged. "I usually prefer making my own food."

"How do you manage to have a large pallet while also being incredibly picky?" Ellie asked with a roll of the eyes. "It's no wonder you weigh nothing."

Turning his head away slightly, a light blush filled Oliver's face as he folded his hands gently in his lap. He looked… Self conscious? Were Oliver and self conscious even words that could be used in the same sentence? I knew I should have told my sister to knock it off. Maybe held his hand and told him he looked great no matter what, but drawing attention to the two of us was going to make it worse; not to mention cause anyone within earshot to ask questions, primarily the two of my siblings who we shared a table with.

"Who else is sitting here?" I asked, changing the subject as I counted how many chairs currently remained empty. There were three left in total, seating a maximum occupancy of six. Nice to know I can still do maternal school maths.

"Eneida and company." Emilio chimed in. "Well, not really. It's just her and Dante, Lili is with the nanny or something, the third chair is just gonna be an extra."

I gave a nod, hoping that Oliver wasn't going to feel awkward stuck between me, my siblings and my brother in law. He knew Eneida at least somewhat from when we were kids but she was just on that line of being a little too old for any sort of relationship with my friends while growing up. On top of that, I had very little interaction with Dante. When it came to my family in general, the mutual understanding was that the men raised families in the different wings of our mansion after their wives took our last name and the women went to live with the families of their husbands.

"Eneida has a baby?" Oliver asked, perking up slightly. "Is Dante her husband?"

"Lili isn't exactly a baby anymore." I remarked, "She's… how old?"

"Almost three," Ellie stated, "She's actually pregnant again right now with a boy."

"Your parents are going to be swimming in grandchildren."

"Six as of right now." I explained. "Seven once this one is born."

"I mean," Ellie said, "You've been traveling from country to country for five years now, I'm sure you have a few bastards you don't know about."

"I do not."

Realistically speaking it wasn't an absolute impossibility, but it definitely wasn't likely. There had been been a girl in Canada I'd fooled around with after staying way too late at a bar. I'd taken her to my hotel and then realized in the morning that she'd robbed me. There was also a woman in Australia I'd had a threesome with, hooking up a few different times within that year, and one short term relationship I had been in during my time in the UK. My other three sexual relations had been with men, losing what I referred to as my gay virginity while I was in Puerto Rico.

Honestly, I couldn't help but feel curious about Oliver's experiences. I had been concerned about the possibility of hurting him just before doing the deed and he'd had to reassure me repeatedly that he wasn't a virgin and would be fine, but there had been moments where he'd seemed uncomfortable, leaving finger print shaped bruises where he'd been squeezing my arms.

"So Oliver," Ellie continued, "What have you been up to the past few years?"

"Finishing school and then working." He stated, brushing out the napkin on his lap as though it could possibly get flatter. "I opened a bakery a few months ago."

"Owning your own business at twenty two is pretty impressive. Are you doing well?"

"Overall, yes." He gave her a weak smile, clearly uncomfortable with everything he'd originally been excited about while also appreciating an opportunity to brag. "I have two recipe books out and we make good sales overall during the day. Not to mention I get to set my own hours and don't have to worry about money I might be losing since I've hardly made a mark in my trust fund yet. My family name might already be known throughout Europe and parts of the world, but my business is our first bakery, so at the end of the day people are going there because they like the things that I make, not because of anything regarding my fathers restaurants."

"Don't you also paint?"

"Yes," He nodded, "Mostly watercolor, but I've been experimenting with other things. I don't really know how to explain it, but things just kind of came easy to me growing up. I don't have many memories involving actively needing to learn things."

"If that's the case, I can't imagine why on earth you would choose to hang out with Enrique, of all people."

I contorted my face, only allowing the smallest hint of a smirk in order to make it clear I wasn't actually offended by what she was saying before sticking my tongue out, quickly pulling it back into my mouth and repositioning my posture as my older sister came to the table hand in hand with her husband. Ellie laughed at my embarrassment now, her and Oliver both struggling not to get great enjoyment out of my misery.

"For goodness sake, Enrique…" Eneida huffed while shaking her head at me. "You aren't fifteen anymore."

"She started it."

Dante pulled her chair out for her, allowing her to sit cautiously without taking her hand off of her heavy, pregnant stomach. He pushed her back in as well before seating himself, giving me a small nod without a word. Eneida gave Oliver a once over, the annoyance she had for me draining quickly as their eyes met. He was oddly good at that, having a natural innocence to him on top of his whimsical charm. I knew him better than that, just as Johnny and Robert did. I'd seen the part of him that helped me sneak into my parents liquor cabinet when we were twelve and thirteen and dare each other to keep taking swigs from the bottle until the room was spinning and I'd been there the next day when we got caught and had to nurse off our hangovers in one of the guest rooms where my mother continued to intentionally slam every door she closed just because she knew our heads would be throbbing and viewed it as a fair punishment.

I gave credit where it was due, though. She never told on him and the hangover had been our only punishment outside of a fair beating my father had given me with a large wooden spoon.

"Eneida, do you remember Oliver?" I asked, "He used to sleepover sometimes when we were kids."

"I remember your friends," She stated, "I'm not sure if I recall everyone's names, though. You're that little French boy, right? The queer one."

The twins were both cupping hands over their mouths, trying and failing to stifle their laughter. Eneida was more blunt than myself or even Oliver were, possibly even giving Rob a run for his money. With the understanding that she in no way had meant it as an insult, I also get out a little snort, watching Oliver's expression change as he took in her words. He didn't look offended per say, simply caught a bit off guard.

"As your brother just stated," He said after taking a second to clear his throat, "My name is Oliver, so that's what I would prefer you call me."

He turned his head my direction, giving an irritated glare at the realization that I had been one of the people chuckling at his embarrassment. At the end of the day it was unlikely he would actually be bothered by it, regularly making jokes at my expense since we were kids the same way I had done to him. Thankfully he said nothing, simply finishing his glass of wine and immediately calling over a waiter for a refill.

"Of course," Eneida said, giving a wave of the hand in his direction. "Anyway, what brings you here? I don't recall seeing you around for quite some time."

"How would you even know?" I tisked at her, rolling my eyes dramatically. "You see me twice a year at the absolute most since I left."

"You normally bring some impressionable young lady who doesn't yet know better than to stay away from you."

Her comeback brought a smile to Oliver's face, which he made a failed attempt at hiding. It wasn't a bad thing, though. It was nice seeing that he wasn't too uncomfortable yet. Not as much as I currently was at least.

There was no way that was possible.

XXX

Enrique

It was a nice change in pace to see Oliver in his natural element, becoming all smiles by his third glass of wine while sharing stories at my expense with my siblings from when we were children. He picked at the hors d'oeuvres as they came by with minimal complaints regarding whether the chefs were good enough for his pallet while simultaneously bragging about what he would do in order to improve them.

"So what you're saying," Ellie remarked as he finished explaining a fifth recipe to us, "Is that we should hire you next time?"

"Not at all, it's actually nice to be the one dining for once, though I must acknowledge that I'd have added an amuse bouche before bringing out soup or salad. It's a nice way to cleanse the pallet and is a great way to get a feel for the chefs personal cooking style. That way if they're partial to certain spices or sauces it doesn't come as a shock to the taste buds."

"I have absolutely no idea what any of that means."

Ellie seemed to immediately regret that statement the moment it left her mouth, Oliver now pulling the table into yet again another monologue about food quality. For someone who seemed to work more than he actually ate, it was a wonder how he could even tell the difference between spice blends. Either way, it was cute seeing him talk so excitedly about something he was passionate about, face lit up in egotistical excitement and cheeks pink as the wine began absorbing into his bloodstream. In fact, he was so invested in his own voice that he'd hardly taken two or three bites out of each course of food, only finishing his salad and dessert.

It was nice to know he was still a sugar junkie.

"I'm gonna go outside for a smoke break." He smirked, having to catch himself on the table after getting to his feet too fast. I quickly stood up, grabbing him by the shoulders before he tipped the chair over. He gave an embarrassed laugh, "Apologies, I just stood up too fast."

"I think I should go with you," I smiled shyly, "I don't want you to end up drowning in the fountain."

"Don't be ridiculous, Enrique, I'm not even drunk."

I gave Ellie a knowing roll of the eyes before walking away with Oliver, keeping a hand glued to the cress of his back even though he was managing to walk fine without stumbling. It was possible he really had just stood up too quickly as opposed to drinking too much.

Exiting the hotel and walking out onto the patio, he lit his cigarette before looping his free arm into my own, causing me to look cautiously at everyone else who currently stood outside. It wasn't that I didn't want to walk with him, but eighty percent of my family was currently here and there was definitely a risk involved with what we were doing.

"Do you wanna go somewhere else?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't notice my anxiety.

"You mean so that no one sees you walking with another boy?"

I blushed, hoping I might be able to sweet talk my way out of this one.

"I need a break from the crowd, absolutely nothing about that auction was silent and besides, I just ate half my weight in carbs and moving around afterwards wouldn't kill me."

He grabbed two more wine glasses from one of the waiters walking around with a tray, handing me one without looking at me.

"You're Italian, half of what you eat is always carbs."

"That's fair," I laughed.

"I'm not offended, by the way."

"Huh?"

"About you feeling weird being in public. This is mostly your family, after all, if you decided that today was the day you came out I'm pretty sure your mother would keel over."

I laughed at his statement, the effects of the alcohol finally starting to warm my body. Although he handled himself well, there was absolutely no way that Oliver wasn't drunk. He couldn't possibly weigh enough to handle the amount he'd had. His face was flushed and his eyes seemed struggling to focus, making it clear how hard he was attempting to act natural. Realistically speaking, I probably shouldn't be letting him have another glass of wine, but it's not like there was anything I could do to stop him.

"Hey," I smiled, hoping to change the subject to something more lighthearted. "Do you remember sneaking into my parents liquor cabinet when we were kids?"

"I remember your father chasing you with a wooden spoon afterward."

"Well, we did finish off an insanely expensive bourbon. I probably had that one coming."

"Okay but, like…" He was either beginning to slur his words slightly or was forgetting how to say things in English, a giant grin now residing on his face. "Do you remember when we tried to make a clubhouse in your attic?"

I knew exactly what he was talking about, smirking at his childish giggling. It was a story that I probably hadn't thought about since I was a preteen.

"Yeah, we were gonna live up there. We apparently didn't think about the fact that my home has several guest rooms and two different kitchens. We brought up a bunch of pillows and blankets, three board games, a grape sucker and a slice of cheese while declaring that we would have to make them last the rest of our lives."

"Then you ate the cheese."

"I was hungry."

Of course, we had only been goofing around. We were well passed the age of believing that we could actually survive off of table scraps or that we would ever be allowed to live in an attic, but those were the types of games we made up, a brief wave of sadness coming over me as I wished it hadn't all gone by so fast. We had wanted desperately to grow up at that age, starting to view things such as toys and games as being too childish, but we were still young enough to view each other as playmates, teaching one another all the swear words we knew while wandering around the forest that had once filled the back of my home, something which had long been torn down, and me having to run back by myself to get my mom because Oliver was in the middle of the creek frozen in fear and screaming at the top of his lungs because there was a leech on his leg. He had been ten.

"You really were my best friend." I sighed, taking a seat on one of the patio benches. "I didn't really fit in anywhere while growing up."

"Oh please, you had a girl linked to each arm by secondary school."

"I could reel people in because my family had money, not because anyone actually liked me." My smile faded as I swirled the wine around in the glass, taking a small sip before continuing. "I used to hear my friends from school talking about me sometimes when I wasn't around. They all thought I was annoying, but at the end of the day I always offered to pay for things…"

"I mean," Oliver shrugged, "You are kind of annoying."

"Shut up," I smirked, flicking him on the forehead gently once again.

"I'm just saying, I've heard more stories about your sex life than any one person should ever be forced to sit through. I'd also like to take this moment to point out that you are an absolute liar, it's not twenty centimeters."

"Okay, Mr. "It's not like you're the first one night stand I've had", you gave me a four year old condom that I'm still shocked didn't break."

"It has to actually stretch in order to break."

He finished the remainder of his wine, setting the glass down and attempting to stand up in order to grab another, instead flopping onto the ground in front of the bench and bursting into a fit of giggles and giving me an absolutely overwhelming urge to kiss him.

"I think you've had enough," I smirked, taking him by the hand and pulling him to his feet. "We should get you a coffee or something."

"I've been drinking wine with dinner since primary school, I'm fine," He babbled nearly incoherently, walking at my side with a steady wobble. "Let's go explore the hotel."

"We've both been here before. Many times, actually."

"Quit being so boring," He took hold of my hand, pulling me back up toward the entryway and then turning the opposite direction of the ballroom and through a set of closed double doors, intended to keep the noise contained enough to not disturb the people who were staying the night, my body suddenly relaxing as they closed behind us. For the first time since we had gotten here, it was quiet. "Finally." He sighed, leaning his back up against the wall for a moment to regain balance. "Some silence."

"Are you really gonna stand here and act like you're an introvert?"

He looked into my eyes, expression gentle and warm for what might have been the first time. I was truly looking at the Oliver who I had once known, the only difference being a heavier set of sleepy eyelids as he digested what was probably more than he normally ate in a week.

"I wanted a chance to look at the… I can't remember the word."

"Artwork?"

"No."

"The rooms? I don't have a room here, just a few of my siblings do."

"Architexture."

"Architecture," I laughed, embracing what would definitely end up being the only time I would ever be the one correcting his English.

He stumbled forward, catching the tip of his shoe on the carpet and falling into me, pulling me down onto the floor as I attempted to catch him. I knew he'd had a lot to drink, but it hadn't really hit me before just how much. I couldn't stop myself from giggling along with him on the floor, recalling similar events from when we were much younger.

"Remember when we almost got kicked out of one of the hotels?" I chuckled, neither of us bothering to get up from the ground. "That one we were staying at with Johnny and Rob, back when we were still competing."

"The elevator game!" He laughed, loud enough where if he didn't cut it out someone was going to come out of their room to yell at us.

"Yes!" I snapped my fingers in his direction, leaning my back against the wall. Oliver quickly joined me, the two of us now sitting shoulder to shoulder as his head rested against mine. "I would have won if we didn't get scolded."

The game itself was quite innocent, involving a set of two elevators that faced one another. I'd held mine open until the one on his side came down, lining the both of them up so that we could time their movements. The rules had been simple, hit all of the buttons at the same time so that we hit each floor together from opposite ends. Every story they opened on, we had to run from one to the other, switching which of us was in each elevator before the doors closed on us. We had originally gotten a slap on the wrist, being told off regarding our noise level. It wasn't until we made it to nearly the top that the door opened to three different security officers who were tasked to bring us back to our rooms and threaten to kick us all out if we didn't behave.

"I take it you no longer want to work as the person who runs the old elevator on the other side of the hotel, no?" He laughed, reminding me that there had been a point in my life where that was the answer I sarcastically gave every time someone asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up. It was one of the only non luxury things that the St. Regis was known for, being one of the first automatic elevators in the country and being built sometime in the late 1800's.

"I don't think anyone even works it anymore," I laughed, "I think you just do it yourself."

"Come on," He said, waving me off and pressing a hand against the wall we rested on to steady himself. He pulled himself up onto wobbly feet, not even bothering to help me up before hitting the button for the much more modern model that resided in front of us. Although I had drank much less than he had, I found myself also a bit dizzy as I got up, walking over to where he now stood.

"It won't work with just one elevator, dumbass." The doors opened with a ping as I was met with my own reflection in the elevator mirror, my hair a frizzy mess that stuck up in all angles from the humidity and my cheeks pink from the alcohol. "Where are we going?"

"It doesn't matter," He smirked, pulling me in and waiting for the doors to close before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him. The unexpected movement caused me to lose my balance, my weight pushing him to the wall as he immediately slipped his tongue into my mouth, making me low key debate if he had ever kissed me without tongue.

Currently, none of that mattered, every thought I had melting away at his touch, his skin hot with sweat and mouth tasting like the wine he had been drinking. He wouldn't be doing this if he was sober, not in a million years. He had made it clear that it couldn't ever happen again, causing me to jump back just as his hand attempted to slip itself into the front of my trousers.

"You're drunk, Oliver," I stated, needing a second to catch my breath. Mentally I was kicking myself for stopping him, the desperation in my head and in my pants begging me to let him continue. "We can't do this."

"You're drunk too," He reminded me, "It's fine, I want to."

"No you don't, you just think that you do."

He frowned, face contorting into a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. The movement of the elevator was causing my stomach to churn.

"Fine," He huffed, "Whatever."

"I'm not saying I don't want you, Ollie," I tried explaining, resting my hand on the railing as we continued to move up to god knows where. I was struggling to look at him, ashamed at the fact that I may have hurt his feelings, even though I knew that he would thank me in the morning. "I mean, we don't even have anywhere to go right now. Like I said, the only members of my family who booked rooms are the ones with kids. Not to mention it isn't exactly something I prepared for."

That wasn't the complete truth, I had a condom in my wallet just in case.

"It's fine, Enrique." Beads of sweat were now running down his forehead, lips suddenly deprived of all color and pupils dilated.

"Are you okay?" I asked, touching the back of my hand to his cold and clammy temple.

I'm not sure if it would have ended better had I not asked him, a decision I regretted the moment he opened his mouth to answer me. Instead, I had to just watch in horror as he vomited the contents of his stomach onto my feet, grabbing him under the arms just as the doors opened and locking horrified eyes with the person who stood on the other side.

The person who was none other than my mother.

Kill me.