DANIEL'S POV
"C'est impossible!" Elliot grunted before tossing his pencil on the English for Beginners Vol 2 I'd bought him.
"Come on, now." I placed the pencil back in his hand. "Try and say it in English."
He huffed and puffed as he glared at me with great annoyance.
One of the things I'd come to learn about him in the past two months since we started these English lessons was that he had an attitude. And whenever things didn't go his way, oh boy. This young man was as stubborn as a mule.
"I-it is… impossible?" He stuttered the words in English through a heavy accent.
"See? When you want, you can complain in perfect English." I clapped my hands when he rolled his eyes.
"Cette langue n'a aucun sens."
"In English, Elliot."
"This langue—"
"Language," I corrected his pronunciation.
He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at me. "This language does not made sense."
Pride filled my chest because when we started these lessons, Elliot couldn't form a complete sentence. It was impressive to see how much progress he'd made in only two months. And in this short time, I'd learned that his biggest obstacle wasn't the language—considering his quick
absorption—but his lack of confidence. Elliot did much better in writing and reading than he did in speaking because he was too self-conscious of how he sounded. To put it simply, he felt embarrassed to speak and be misunderstood, and this fear held him back.
"Very well, although notice the tense," I explained in French before switching to English. "This language doesn't make any sense." I grabbed the pencil from him and wrote it down. "Made—" I underlined the word.
"—is past tense, while make—" Another underline. "— is present."
Elliot's eyes went over my handwriting before he pulled the notebook closer to him and read it. I knew he was struggling, but seeing his desire to learn was inspiring.
"There's too much to learn," he muttered in French when I remembered something.
"I almost forgot, I got you something."
Reaching for my briefcase, I placed it in my lap and rummaged inside until pulling out—
"A Discman?" Elliot gasped as he snapped the round device from my hands. "This is amazing!"
He began pushing buttons and checking the disc player from all angles while I pulled out a few CDs and a pair of headphones, which he hurried to take from me.
"I used to have a Walkman in France, but my brother accidentally broke it," he said with excitement, then paused. "Did it cost a lot?"
"Nothing you should worry about." I reached for the headphones and grabbed them from him. "Here, try them on," I said, already putting them on his head.
Elliot quickly covered the headphones with his palms, a big smile on his face. "How do I look?" he asked, eyes full of joy.
"Exquisite."
He laughed, causing me to frown.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Sometimes you sound old, and it's funny."
I scrunched my brows. "How come?"
"It's the way you speak… Who says exquisite?"
The way he pronounced the word "exquisite" with his accent was simply magnificent. In fact, it was incredible how everything sounded so much better in French, even him calling me old. But then again, perhaps it was just him who made it sound appealing. I wasn't convinced that I'd enjoy someone else telling me I sounded old.
"But don't worry, I think it's cute," he added with a soft chuckle.
"Cute?" I grimaced because I highly doubted I'd ever been called "cute" before.
"Yes." His smile grew before his attention went back to his new Discman. "But why did you buy this for me? My birthday isn't until summer."
"It's so you'll have something to practice your English with while I'm away."
Elliot's smile suddenly dropped as his face fell.
"Why will you be away?" He pushed the headphones down to hang around his neck.
"I'm going on a two-week business trip on Sunday."
His frown grew bigger, and he shoved the Discman away, his eyes meeting mine.
"So you won't come to the restaurant?"
"Only for two weeks."
His expression closed up. "That's a long time."
I couldn't help but huff a laugh. "It really isn't, Elliot—"
"It is. I bet you'll forget all about me when you're back." His eyes widened before a blush painted his cheeks pink. "I meant to say… I'll forget the English you taught me."
A pleasant warmth filled my chest as I nudged the Discman closer to him. "That's why I got you this, so you can practice while I'm away."
Elliot frowned at the disk player before reaching for it, but as he did, he not so subtly brushed his fingers against mine.
The slight touch was more than I could have asked for, and unable to control myself, I said, "We can speak on the phone."
"You know I don't have one, and I can't keep the restaurant line busy—"
He quieted down once I placed the other gift I'd bought in front of him.
"Now you do."
He gawked at the brand-new cell phone I'd gotten him, then shook his head. "No… That's too much." He gave me back the phone.
"It really isn't." I replaced it in his hands. "Everyone has these nowadays, and you should, too."
And a lot more.
All that it took was one more glance at me before he grabbed the phone and hugged it close to his chest. My breath caught at seeing the unshed tears in his eyes, and I swallowed back the lump that formed in my throat. It truly
was nothing, especially not worthy of his tears.
"T-thank you," he whispered in his broken English that somehow satisfied my deepest desires.
After a quick shower, I grabbed the room phone and sat by the window overlooking the city of Chicago. Enjoying the rare occasion of being completely alone, I didn't bother with clothes and stayed in my bathrobe.
After a full day of back-to-back meetings, I was exhausted, yet still had the power to make one last phone call before bed.
The line rang and rang, and I wondered if Elliot might have gone to sleep when he finally picked up.
"Daniel!" he gasped. "I thought you wouldn't call."
His slightly out-of-breath voice placed some dirty thoughts in my mind, and I coughed to hide my growing arousal.
"Were you asleep?"
By now, speaking French with him felt so natural I didn't even struggle.
"Oh, no. I was in the shower when I heard the phone, and I ran to get it."
Heat pooled low in my stomach at the thought of his fit body, all silky and naked underneath running water, hair wet and pushed back while soap slid down the curves of his neck to his collarbones and—Dear Lord. All he mentioned was a shower, and here I was, getting ahead of myself.
"Daniel?"
"At least tell me you managed to put on a pair of pants first," I tried joking, but it came out wrong, especially with how rough my voice sounded, like a low growl.
Elliot's rolling chuckle came in response, the sweet sound causing my cock to take notice of the situation.
God. Calling him now was a mistake.
"No, I'm completely naked," he said.
I lowered in my chair and spread my legs, eyes already traveling down to my crotch as I doubted my morals. The thought was tempting—beyond that, even—but instead of caving to the need burning inside me, I coughed to clear my throat.
"Please put on something so you won't get sick. It's still cold outside."
He let out that damn chuckle again.
"Sometimes you sound like my father."
There goes my erection.
"Okay, that was a lie," he quickly said, catching my attention back.
Sensing the shift in his mood, I strained in the chair. "How come?"
"He never cared enough about me to worry I'd get a cold." He snorted.
"In fact, he didn't care enough even to call to check on me after he left my maman for his mistress."
The sadness in his voice gnawed at my stomach, and I clenched the phone harder.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Elliot."
"Thank you."
"So you're not close with him?"
"He passed away a few years ago in a car accident."
Learning those details about him was somehow shocking. In the short time I'd known him, Elliot had been nothing if not a walking sunshine. No matter the circumstance, whether he'd gotten lost on the subway or worked until late at night, he always had a smile on his precious face. Who knew such a tragedy lurked behind so much kindness?
"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, and I can reassure you that it was his loss for losing contact with you while he still lived."
"You think so?" he asked.
"Of course."
"I'm not so sure—" Loud noises cut into his words.
"What's that sound?" I frowned.
"My neighbors. They're always either fighting or partying." He went quiet for a second. "Sounds like it's a big fight tonight."
The thought of him living next to such people scared me.
"That's alarming."
"Not really… Besides, the building is nice, and the rent is cheap. So I can't complain."
While his attempt to make light of it was charming, it was unnerving.
"If you want to live someplace else—" I paused before I could finish my sentence because what was I about to offer? To rent him an apartment in Manhattan and treat him as if he were one of my father's mistresses?
"Monsieur… You are worry too much."
His sudden switch to English took me by surprise, and I smiled.
"I see someone has practiced his English. Have you been listening to the CDs?"
He hummed a low yes.
"Want to hear something new that I learned?" he asked in French.
"Of course."
He pretended to clear his throat, and I could almost imagine the playful expression he'd have on.
"I miss you."
Each syllable was delivered awkwardly, yet it did nothing to reduce how my body reacted to hearing him say those words. My heart skipped a beat as warmth spread through me like lightning. And I felt so unbelievably happy until it all turned into guilt. I knew better than to rejoice over him missing me. In fact, it was entirely inappropriate of him even to suggest such a thing.
But so was speaking to him this late at night.
I was a husband to a wife who loved me, a father to a daughter who deserved my full attention, but also a man who got excited at the sound of those three little words coming from him.
This invariant contrast between right and wrong was tearing me apart, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not true. There were many things I could've done, like hang up the phone or to stop meeting with him. But I did neither of those things. Instead, I did the opposite and only sought him out more. And if I thought two weeks away from Elliot would be simple, I learned how wrong I was. Not even two days into this business trip, and I was already missing him, too.
"So, did I say it correctly?" he asked in French, interrupting the silence that had broken between us.
"Yes. You said it perfectly." My voice came out rough and weak, like a whisper carried in the dark.
"No… I don't think that I did," he said in a low tone, his words challenging me. "Maybe you should say it, too, so I'll know how it's supposed to sound?"
Elliot's demand was bold and reckless, almost like he wanted to play with fire and get burned. It wasn't a shock, given his age. After all, challenging life was a part of youth, wasn't it? But I wasn't in the same place as him. At thirty-three years old, I should have been the one with the moral clarity to know better. And typically, I would. Only not right now.
Not when it came to him.
"I miss you, too, Elliot."