After ending the video call, Cohen Phillips packed the framed painting and went to change his clothes. As he came out, he heard the doorbell.
He went to open the door.
Outside stood a gentle and amiable man—his senior, Bevin Lawson.
Cohen didn't seem inclined to invite him in.
"The painting's wrapped up. Wait a moment, I'll get it."
Bevin Lawson nodded.
"Wear a thicker coat. It's cold outside."
"Mm."
Cohen put on his down jacket, pocketed his phone, and lifted the 1.5-meter tall painting.
"Let's go."
"I'll take it."
Bevin took the painting.
"You lock up."
After closing the door, Cohen helped carry the painting into the elevator.
"Just finishing one piece?"
"Busy. No time to paint more."
Bevin smiled.
"Planning to settle back in City B with your brother?"
"Probably."
"Work sorted out? Joining your brother's company or still taking commercial commissions? Consider coming to my studio?"
Cohen kept his head slightly lowered, his voice faint.
"Not considering it. Need to focus on dating. No time."
Bevin's face stiffened.
"You... you're dating? Since when?"
"Just started."
"But you have that... how did you suddenly..."
A faint smile touched Cohen's lips. "It's him."
Bevin moved his lips, finally saying in a dry tone, "Congratulations."
"Thanks."
Ding!
The elevator doors opened.
Two movers were waiting outside.
"Are you the ones who requested the moving service?"
Bevin offered a polite smile.
"Yes. The address is in the platform order. Please be careful delivering it. Someone will be there to sign for it."
"Sure, sure."
After watching them carefully load the painting into the truck, Bevin said, "Let's go. The restaurant is booked."
Cohen got in the car.
On the way, he listened to Bevin talk intermittently about the arrangements for their mentor's exhibition, gradually spacing out.
Seeing his inattention, Bevin pressed his lips together and fell quiet.
During dinner, Cohen ate as silently as usual, but Bevin seemed to have little appetite.
After wrestling with it for a long time, he finally asked, "Does he like you too?"
Cohen wiped his mouth.
"Yes, he does."
"Oh..."
Bevin asked again, "But didn't you say before that the person you liked probably didn't even know you? How..."
"Ah, he fell for me at first sight," Cohen said without changing his expression.
Bevin's brow furrowed tightly.
"Cohen, aren't you being too impulsive?"
"Not really. I like him. I want to be with him."
"You... don't treat feelings like a game."
Cohen looked at him seriously.
"I don't treat feelings lightly. So, Bevin, you should stop focusing your attention on me."
Bevin's face paled slightly.
He forced a smile.
"I know you have no feelings for me. I'm just afraid he might not treat you well."
"He will."
"Then I'll wish you happiness. If you're unhappy with him... could you consider me then?"
Cohen shook his head.
"I only want him."
Bevin let out a breath.
"It seems I have no chance at all."
"Sorry."
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
"Nothing to be sorry about. We can still be good friends, right?"
Cohen smiled and nodded.
"Of course."
After another long silence, Bevin said, "I'll settle the bill after we finish, then drive you back."
When they reached the counter, they were told a Mr. Morgan had already paid for their table.
Cohen's eyes lit up slightly.
"When did he leave?"
The cashier smiled.
"Ten minutes ago."
He looked at the downcast Bevin.
"Let's go."
Bevin smiled wryly.
"Your boyfriend paid?"
"Seems so."
"Thank him for me. I was supposed to treat you, but ended up getting a free meal. I'll pay next time."
"Okay."
The moment Cohen stepped out of the restaurant, he saw the man leaning against a car door not far away and paused slightly.
Bevin followed his gaze, his eyes darkening.
"Is that him?"
Clearly cheered, Cohen said, "Yes. Bevin, you don't need to drive me back."
Bard Morgan saw him too and waved.
Cohen walked over quickly, his eyes bright.
"Waiting for me?"
Bard chuckled, slung an arm over his shoulder, and pulled him into an unmistakably possessive embrace.
He looked at Bevin, who had followed, and gave a restrained nod.
Cohen looked up slightly and introduced, "This is my senior, Bevin Lawson. Bevin, this is Bard Morgan."
Bevin had already recognized the man who frequently appeared on financial channels, feeling inwardly surprised but maintaining a calm facade.
He smiled and extended his right hand.
"Mr. Morgan, I've long heard of you. I'm Cohen's senior."
Bard gave his hand a brief, perfunctory shake.
"Mr. Lawson. I'm Cohen's boyfriend."
The two men's eyes met for a few short seconds—electric, sparking with growing tension.
Cohen subtly tugged at Bard's clothes.
"Bevin, we're leaving."
Bevin's gentle gaze fell on Cohen's face.
"Alright. I'll pick you up for the mentor's exhibition when the time comes."
"No need—"
Cohen's words were cut short as he was ushered into the back seat of the car.
Before getting in, Bard cast a contemptuous glance at Bevin and let out a soft, derisive snort.
Bevin stood in place, watching the car drive away, his shoulders slumping before he turned and left, looking desolate.
"Mmph..."
In the car, Cohen's chin was gripped, and he was kissed breathless, letting out faint, stifled whimpers.
The driver had wisely raised the partition.
When the kiss ended, Bard pressed his lips against Cohen's, his large hand gripping the nape of his neck, stroking gently.
His deep, dark eyes locked onto Cohen's watery ones.
"Baby..."
Cohen shivered, pushing him away slightly.
Bard bit his lower lip hard, then soothed it with his tongue.
"So mean. Turning down my dinner invitation to eat with another man."
Tears welled in Cohen's eyes from the sting.
"He came to pick up the painting. Dinner was just incidental..."
"He has designs on you."
"I refused him clearly. Mmph..."
Bard's tongue delved in again, not as wild as before, just gently enticing him.
Kissed into comfort, Cohen pressed closer actively.
Heated ambiguity spread through the car.
A long while later, Cohen leaned against Bard's shoulder, dazed, gasping for fresh air.
Bard's scorching breath fanned his ear as he spoke in a hoarse whisper, "Baby, don't get too close to that Bevin guy from now on, okay?"
Cohen agreed vaguely.
"Mm..."
Bard laughed happily.
"So good."
Cohen Phillips looked up and met his fiercely wild eyes.
His heart fluttered, and he lowered his gaze, flustered.
Bard patted his back gently.
"Baby, you're the one who came to me. Even if you're scared, you can't run away now."
His long eyelashes fluttered.
"I won't run... but can you not be so fierce? I'm scared..."
Bard touched his eyelashes.
"Scared of what?"
His fingers curled slightly.
"I'm scared... I won't be able to take it..."
Bard froze for a few seconds, his breathing growing heavier.
Sensing danger, Cohen pushed him away and shrank back towards the car door.
In the next instant, Bard pulled him back forcefully, one arm tight around his waist, the other pressing the back of his head, and urgently captured his lips again.
"Mmph... hn..."