I can’t believe I got through it in only three takes.
Taking the robe Nahm holds out to me, I turn my back and slip it on to cover my semi-erection as the crew readies for the next scene.
Lying in my bed in the dark, unable to sleep, I seek release. Sliding my hand inside my boxer briefs, I begin stroking myself with sure twists of my wrist. Inexplicably, it’s the recent memory of dancingwith Pravat that drives my arousal. Back arching, body buzzing with sensation, I moan low in my throat as my orgasm rips through me and I spurt onto my hand.
Completely spent, I reach for a tissue, barely succeeding in wiping up the mess before falling into a deep sleep that I don’t wake from until morning.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Pravat
The fans go wild when I wrap my arms around Rama’s waist from the back. The barest touch from me, and he lowers his guard, becoming soft, pliable, and deliciously vulnerable, and I’m addicted to it. Without thinking, I press my nose into the soft skin of his neck, earning another roar from the crowd and a deep blush from Rama. But he entwines his fingers with mine where they rest against his stomach, and when I raise my head, I can see the smile curving his lips.
This is our last fan meeting. The final episode of the series aired last night with ratings exceeding all our hopes. From very first photos of us that circulated, the fans have responded, sending us hundreds of stuffed animals, letters, and cards. Tonight, they wear T-shirts with our images on them, and behind where we stand on stage, the entire wall is a blow up of a sultry photo of Rama and me dressed all in black, ourshirts unbuttoned, hair disheveled, and arms wrapped around each other.
For weeks I’ve been trying not to think about the fact that Rama is taking an internship that will have him leaving for America for the next six months, but as the time of his departure comes closer, I have to face it—particularly now that the press has gotten wind of the news.
“What are you going to miss most about Rama?” the young male host of the event asks, holding the microphone to my mouth.
“This,” I say without hesitation, and squeeze Rama tightly, my chin pressed to the crook of his shoulder.
When the noise of the crowd finally dies down, the host turns his attention to Rama.
“And what about you, Rama? What will you miss most about Pravat?”
“This,” he repeats, grinning, the tips of his ears turning red. I sniff his cheek affectionately.
As the rest of the cast joins us onstage, Rama moves to stand beside me. The host introduces each cast member and the role they played in the series, and tears prick my eyes.
“Are you crying?” Rama whispers teasingly in my ear.
“It’s your cologne,” I tease back. “Did you bathe in it?”
He pinches my side, making me jerk. Tomorrow every little thing we’re doing will be dissected in the media, in some ways distorted and in others not, because we really are this easy and affectionate with one another. Catching his hand, I encase it in mine.
When Fiat, the actor who played the object of Atid’s jealousy on the show, is introduced, there’s some playful booing from the crowd. At the urging of Tait and Aran, he leaves his place in line and inserts himself between Rama and me. The move is meant to get a rise out of Rama, and he reacts as expected, tugging Fiat by the arm andexchanging places with him, earning raucous laughter and cheers from the audience.
The event lasts hours, and when it’s over, I’m exhausted. Glancing at Rama, I think he looks even more tired.
“You haven’t been sleeping well,” I say as we’re directed by bodyguards out of the building to the private parking area around back.
“I’ve just had a lot to catch up on,” Rama says through a huge yawn. He stumbles slightly, and I catch him by the arm.
“Spend the night at my place. It’s much closer.”
Rama doesn’t argue. He falls asleep in the car, his head on my shoulder.
I’ve been worried about him—besides not sleeping well, he hasn’t been eating enough. I’ve had to coax him at every meal we’ve had together. Who’s going to take care of him when he goes to America?
Leaving the lights off in my apartment, I help him to undress.
“You’re so good to me,” he says groggily, with a tired smile as I tuck him into my bed. As I remove my clothes, I watch the progress of a riverboat gliding past beyond the windows, its wake gleaming in the light of the moon on the water’s surface.
I settle next to him, and silence falls over the room like a down blanket. Listening to Rama’s even breathing beside me, I watch the rhythmic blinking of a light on the skyline, thinking about how much my life is about to change. For the next few months, I’m taking a break from acting to work on my art. I’m looking forward to it, but I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with the Rama-shaped hole in my life. I never anticipated becoming this close to him.
Turning my head on the pillow, I study his face in repose. Yes, he’s handsome, but it’s the little things that really get to me: the wrinkle between his eyebrows when he frowns, the deepening of his dark eyes when he’s moved by something, the quirk of his lips when he’samused. Asleep, his expression is soft and vulnerable. I stare at his mouth. I’ve enjoyed kissing it again and again during filming and can’t help but be sad I’m no longer allowed that privilege.
Closing my eyes, I sigh and relax into the mattress. Perhaps it’s best we’re being torn away from each other. I’ve become too attached.
I’ve just begun to fall asleep when Rama scoots closer to me and rests his head on my chest. Holding my breath, I wait. When his soft snores fill the room, I gently bring my arm around him, resting my hand at his waist, and let myself drift off.