15. Thomas

CHAPTER 15

Thomas

The next few days are a bit of a daze that bleed into one another. It's possibly a bit disconcerting that Arlo and I are inseparable, but seeing as we're both ridiculously happy, neither one of us is protesting to change the situation.

Somehow, the topic of Arlo getting another room never comes up between us, and no one at the resort appears to mind us sharing. In fact, yesterday we came back to not only a made bed but also one strewn with rose petals. There was also complimentary Champagne and strawberries in the minifridge. When I asked Kirana if she knew anything about it, she declared she could no longer speak any English and ran off cackling.

Hearing Arlo talk about his troubled home life—even if it was in code—was tough. And yeah, he's obviously from wealth, but from the way he cried over his stolen wallet and a few other details he let slip, I'm almost certain he saved up all by himself to come on this vacation.

Money doesn't change the facts. When he goes back to England, sooner or later, he'll face getting married off to a stranger who his parents will pick for him that he'll never be sexually attracted to.

It breaks my fucking heart.

I've tried broaching the subject a few times, but he just smiles and shrugs it off, saying "It is what it is!" like his destiny is carved in stone.

I know it's not. I made my own destiny with blood, sweat and tears. Arlo shouldn't be bullied by anyone about how to live his life, least of all his parents. But he's going through so many new life experiences right now, and this thing between us might be burning strong, but it also feels like a fragile little bird. I don't want to push him too hard too soon.

There's a devilish, unhelpful voice in the back of my head, which keeps whispering that just because we live in different countries doesn't mean we can't still talk once we leave Bali. Before, I've been telling myself that his life is in England and mine is in New York.

But what if that's not the case? Could this thing between us have a life beyond this vacation?

Even though we're over the halfway mark of our stay, it still feels too soon to worry, hope, or push about anything like that. But maybe that's the point. Maybe we've got more time than I initially could have dreamed, and we can talk about previously unimaginable things at a later date.

One thing's for sure, and that's Arlo isn't close with his family. In fact, I'm pretty confident they're the primary assholes who fucked him up in the first place. My dad's never been in my life, but I have such a big, supportive family, I can't fathom how lonely it would be without them.

It makes me think reckless thoughts, like how I want to be there for Arlo in the ways his folks let him down. I want to stand between him and them so they can't hurt him anymore.

I mean, come on—it's insane. Who in this day and age would marry their gay son off to a woman and demand not just one but multiple heirs from him? Is this fucking Bridgerton?

I try my best not to get mad about it. Right now, those people and their warped values aren't intruding on our lives. I just want to treasure every day I get to spend with Arlo here in paradise.

The past couple of days, we've stayed close to the resort, lounging about by the pool or on the beach during the day. We joined in with a few of the little-focused scheduled activities run by the organizers, like the sandcastle competition and pool party. Arlo got to spend more time with his new friend, Colby, and his partner, Jalen. That young man shines like a jewel, but nothing burns as brightly as the way he looks at his best friend-turned-lover.

As the boys played, it gave me a chance to hang out with their Daddy, Andreas, some more. He refrained from saying an outright ‘I told you so,' but he still smirked generously at me and roped me into conversations about how great it is to be a Daddy to a sweet baby boy.

Asshole. I love it. We even swap numbers at his suggestion that I might want parental advice down the line. I wonder if he'll be able to do anything for my broken heart when I have to let Arlo go, but I refuse to dwell on that thought for too long.

At night, Arlo and I very much enjoy our private time back at my villa. Arlo's sweet body is a buffet I'm loving exploring inch by inch.

The way he loses himself in passion is one of the most joyous things I've ever witnessed. Considering the shit he went through at boarding school, I think he's remarkable for coming out the other side with such a healthy attitude toward sex. The way he responds to my touch is such a precious gift.

I feel like the luckiest Daddy alive.

Today, however, we both agreed that as much as we loved the last couple of days, we didn't want to travel this great distance and not take in any local culture. Our only outing so far ended in a minor disaster, and I don't want that to be Arlo's sole experience of such a wonderful place.

Besides, I'm still trying to take things relatively slow. Us both lying in the sun with only swim shorts on gives me all kinds of ideas about what I want to do next to his beautiful body. We've kept it to hand and blow jobs as well as frotting, but I doubt it will be long until we want to move it up to the next level.

Going out and doing touristy things in a busy area means I get a bit of breathing room to think with my upstairs brain. At least for a few hours.

We've taken a tour bus from the resort to a little temple on the coast. The ancient Hindu shrine becomes its own little island depending on the height of the tide, but at the moment, it's still connected to the mainland via a rocky stretch of land. We marvel at stunning black stone carvings in the towering gateway entrances, embellished with shining gold details. The waves never stop crashing around us, creating an overpowering soundscape that drowns out a lot of the tourist chatter.

"This is magnificent," Arlo whispers to me, looking around in awe.

I've noticed that he hasn't taken any photos since we've been here, or at least not that I've seen. Selfishly, that suits me. I have to be very careful about keeping my presence here a secret. But I'm also aware that he does too—not from the public but from his family. The thought makes me sad, but it's a necessity for us both. I'd rather be here anonymously together than not at all.

However, this is the first time I've specifically gone to a tourist spot. The market street was different. Here, it's mostly westerners with their cameras out, making memories.

I probably should have known better.

"Oh my god!" an American voice cries out not too subtly. I wince, already pretty certain I know what's about to happen, but wishing I'm wrong anyway.

I'm not.

"Are you Thomas Beltran?" the guy asks as he bustles over to me with a sheepish-looking slim blonde girl trailing behind him. It might be unfair, but my mind immediately labels them Tourist Ken and Barbie due to their deep tans, blond hair, and brightly colored clothes. He's athletically built, and she's petite, so they fit the roles even better. My knee-jerk reaction, though, is that he's the airhead, whereas she's got a little more sense about her. He encourages my theory as he speaks to me again. "Holy shit, you are! Babe, look! It's Thomas Beltran!"

"I see that, honey," she says, throwing an apologetic look my way. "Are you on vacation, Mr. Beltran?"

My gaze flicks to a surprised-looking Arlo for just a second before smiling back at the couple. I'm torn between not wanting to ignore him and not wanting them to pay any attention to him when he doesn't know what's going on.

"I sure am," I say. "Would you guys like a photo?"

Ken looks like he might pass out. "Hell yeah!" he cries. I can see people around us looking our way with curious expressions. At least Ken's loud display hasn't brought any other fans out of the woodwork.

Yet.

But…that's the thing. He is a fan. He hasn't done anything other than be excited to run into me. I'm the one who's anxious about anyone else recognizing me, of the media learning where I am or what I'm doing.

Most of all, I'm just worried what Arlo is going to think.

"Honey, get in!" Ken says as he throws himself against my side, wrapping his arm around my waist and whipping his phone out for a selfie. But Barbie shakes her head, gently taking the device from his hand.

"Why don't I take some snaps for you?" she suggests.

I pose with Ken as he gives a goofy thumbs-up, and his girlfriend smiles fondly. I'm not sure of their dynamic, but maybe she loves this big old himbo. Who am I to judge?

"Thank you so much, man," Ken says as he flicks through the several images Barbie captured. "This has made my whole day. Wow. You take care of that knee now, you hear?"

I chuckle. Guys used to give me advice about what I should be doing on the ice. These days, they normally tell me they're sorry that my career—or, worse—my life got ruined. That always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. But Ken's comment comes across as sincere. Not only that, but when Barbie and he wave good-bye to me, they both also look at Arlo and give him a nod.

Okay. So I just met some fans in the wild, and they didn't even bat an eyelid that I might be on vacation with a man. A younger man. Not that I'm old, but…well, I guess it's just reassuring that they didn't immediately point at me and yell "This guy likes getting called ‘Daddy'!"

Slowly I turn to Arlo, aware that I'm wincing.

"Huh," he says, his eyebrows raised. "That was…interesting."

I hold my hands up. "I can explain."

He laughs and takes one of my hands out of the air to link our fingers together. I didn't realize how tense I was until that moment, but I relax and drop my other arm.

"I assume you're famous in some way," Arlo says. "It would explain how you could work for a charity yet also be rich."

His expression is warm, and it lets me know that he's not mad or judging me. I'm pretty sure he's just curious, which eases my worries somewhat.

"I wanted to tell you," I say honestly as I steer us into a corner where we won't be in people's way as we talk. "I just…I had to be really careful. Do you understand?"

He leans in closer with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he whispers into my ear. "You don't want people to know that you're a sexual deviant," he suggests in a saucy tone.

I laugh and peck him on the cheek, making him blush. "I'm out," I assure him. "As gay."

"Just not as Daddy," he clarifies quietly. I nod, then so does he. "I understand. Really, I do. You told me it was your first time trying all this out." His blush deepens. "I feel very honored you felt safe enough to try it with me, Mr. Famous."

My heart melts. "I did feel safe," I agree. "I do. I feel like…Arlo, I don't want to put too much on you, but I've never been this open with anyone outside of my family. Thank you for being there for me and letting me be there for you."

He looks at me with glassy eyes for a few moments before silently slipping his arms around me and tucking his face against my neck to hug me tightly. I give as good as I get, and for a while, we just stand there, soaking up each other's comfort.

Until he pulls back and wrinkles his nose at me. "Just tell me you're not a politician."

I drop my head back and laugh from my belly. "No, sweetheart," I promise. "I used to play hockey."

He thinks for a second. "Ice hockey, I take it?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, hon. Not field hockey. That's not all that popular back home."

He nods, apparently satisfied. But then a devilish grin spreads across his face. "Ooh, does that mean if I look you up online, I'm going to find lots of sexy professional photos of you?"

I laugh again, loving that's where his mind went. "Mostly me in bulky gear, I suspect," I say, tempering his expectations. "Helmet and everything. But…if you do look me up, the first articles you'll probably see will be about my injury."

I try not to let the sadness creep into my words. I really am at peace with it all. It's just difficult reliving that moment when I felt so helpless and out of control with a fresh pair of eyes.

Except Arlo just rubs my chest and hugs me tighter. "Daddy's poorly knee," he says sagely. "Lolo can kiss it better, later. I never did get to properly the other day." He waggles his eyebrows. "Lolo can kiss lots of things better."

I growl and try to push down the flare of lust that rips through me. I only manage it because there are so many people around, but I catalog it for later. "Daddy has lots of boo-boos," I say in a low, rumbly voice. "Do you think Lolo will be able to kiss them all?"

Arlo presses a finger to his chin and hums. "He can certainly try," he says earnestly.

I grin and can't help but capture his mouth with mine for a moment. "My good boy," I murmur, loving how he blushes again.

Before I can think better of it, I get my own phone out and switch the camera on. I still want my privacy. But in that moment, it feels crushingly important that I should also have something to look back on to reminisce over my time in this magical place with this magical boy.

"Can I take a selfie with you?" I ask, mimicking Ken from earlier. Arlo giggles and nods, posing in my arms as I snap a few shots.

"Send them to me?" he asks softly.

"Of course," I agree, doing it right away. "Now we'll both remember today."

He laughs ruefully and shakes his head. "Silly Daddy," he admonishes. "I'm going to remember every day I spend with you forever and ever."

I thought my heart melted before, but now it's just a puddle on the floor. I can't find the words for a moment, so I hug him closer and kiss his hair. "Forever and ever," I eventually rasp.

I'm crazy if I think when this vacation ends that I can just walk away from this boy.