Chapter 280: Blushing Like a Boiled Shrimp
When the stables came into view at the bottom of the hill, Micah finally spoke, his voice a bit shaky. "Wait."
The sudden word broke the quiet rhythm of hooves over grass.
Clyde pulled Onyx to a halt, glancing down instinctively at the boy sitting in front of him. Micah’s posture stiffened, his back snapping straight.
"What is it?" Clyde asked, keeping his voice even, though his fingers tightened slightly around the reins.
Micah hesitated, eyes fixed ahead. His ears had gone a deep shade of red, the flush slipping down the sides of his neck like spreading ink. "I don’t want others to see us like this..." he mumbled.
Clyde blinked. For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze dropped lower, lingering on the small freckles scattered across the nape of Micah’s neck, exposed between the damp collar of his shirt and the edge of his curls. His eyes were glued to Micah’s back, tracing every inch of it, his slender neck, the curve of his shoulder blades, the faint line of his spine.
His eyes darkened for a split second. He could feel the heat radiating from Micah’s back, pressed against his chest all this time. It had felt natural and comforting.
Clyde’s fingers clenched the reins, then slowly released them. "Alright," he said hoarsely.
He swung his leg over and dismounted quickly. Clyde gave a push to the second horse using the reins while patting Onyx’s neck. He led the two horses forward on foot without any objection.
Micah remained seated. Alone now.
The absence of Clyde’s solid frame behind him made the wind feel sharper, colder. A sudden breeze brushed over his damp clothes, and he shivered. The warmth Clyde had left behind faded quickly.
He looked down at his hands, clutching the pommel of the saddle tightly. He didn’t want to push Clyde away. Not really. But the thought of others seeing them, Emile, Dean, and Clyde’s friends like this was too much. The fragile, unspoken thing between them would never survive being exposed this soon.
What the two of them had, Micah wanted to keep a little longer. Neither of them wanted to rip this invisible wall between them. What was the reason, fear? Responsibility? Secrets? Society? Family?
Micah didn’t care about it. He just wanted this one thing to be his. Unshared. Untouched.
When they reached the stables, the clatter of activity returned. Stable hands rushed forward at the sight of them, taking the reins with respectful bows of their heads. Someone reached for Onyx’s bridle while another led the brown horse toward the grooming area.
Micah slid off the saddle with a bit of a stumble, and the riding pants clung too tightly to his legs. Before he could straighten up or look around, something heavy fell over his shoulders. A blanket, warm and thick.
Micah stiffened. Then looked up.
Clyde adjusted the blanket a little tighter around Micah’s back and gave him a gentle push on the shoulder.
There was no room for protest. Clyde guided him toward a waiting cart just outside the stable yard. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started it. Micah sat curled in the passenger seat with the blanket drawn up to his chin, feeling himself shrink under the weight of his own flustered thoughts.
As they pulled away from the stables, neither of them noticed Emile step out from behind the far side of the building, his eyes narrowed. "You saw that, right?" he whispered.
Dean stood beside him and nodded. "Clear as day."
"There’s definitely something going on," Emile said. "Have you ever seen Little Uncle act like that with anyone? He put a blanket on him, gently! He never even passed me a tissue when I sneezed!"
"No," Dean agreed. "I texted Jacklin. She said they are close by."
Emile gave a subtle glance toward the trail the cart had taken. "Let’s go. That’s all we needed to know."
They walked toward another cart, vanishing from the stable yard.
*****
Clyde didn’t stop until they reached the condo. He didn’t speak, didn’t give Micah a chance to linger in the hallway or slow down. One hand stayed lightly on Micah’s back, leading him through the doors and into the private suite.
Micah kept his head low, too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eyes. His cheeks were burning again. Were people staring? Did they guess? Did Clyde realise how obvious he was being?
Once inside, Clyde guided him directly to the bathroom. "Go change. I’ll grab some clothes," he said simply, then turned and left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
Micah let out a long, shaky sigh.
He stripped slowly, his soaked riding clothes clinging to his skin. Every movement was sluggish. Finally, he stepped under the hot water. The spray hit his back, steaming up the room.
He tilted his head back, letting the water run down his face.
His heart beat faster, the more he recalled.
He hadn’t imagined it, right? They didn’t say aloud. But Micah saw in Clyde’s eyes, heard in his voice. The softness, the warmth, and the doting.
It said more than words.
Micah exhaled a quiet laugh, muffled by his palm as he dragged it down his wet face. Embarrassing. Completely, stupidly embarrassing.
Was this what it felt like?
After his grandma’s approval and heartwarming responses last night, this was the best birthday gift someone could have given him.
His stomach fluttered again.
Oh, Crap!
He groaned and covered his eyes with both hands, the water streaming down his arms. He was blushing. Like a girl in a cheesy school drama. What was wrong with him?
He crouched down slightly under the stream, mortified with himself.
Oh God...He never thought that one day he would become one of those people, swooning, squeaking, and gushing over a man...
This was so embarrassing. He should be careful not to slip and show it to Clyde.
Clyde would definitely tease him. Probably forever. Micah felt heat spreading over his body, turning him into a cooked shrimp.