From Frost to Flame

Part 39- Eyes Across the Room

After the confession in the kitchen, Pete was a nervous wreck. He practically grabbed Porsche's wrist, eyes pleading.

"Please don't tell Kinn. Or Vegas. Seriously."

Porsche chuckled, sipping his coffee like it was a secret cocktail. "Alright, alright. My lips are sealed... for now." He gave Pete a wink that didn't feel very reassuring.

They stepped out into the garden, the late morning clouds thick and heavy above them. Pete clutched his mug like it might shield him from everything swirling inside him. As they approached the bench under the tree, they saw Kinn and Vegas already seated, coffee-less and mid-conversation.

"Coffee delivery!" Porsche announced, handing over the mugs. He plopped down beside Kinn, dragging Pete with him to sit on the edge.

Pete offered Vegas a small smile, almost shy. "Here," he said, holding out the mug.

Vegas took it without looking at him. "Thanks," he muttered, eyes already turning to Kinn. "So, you were saying about the renovations in the east wing?"

Pete blinked, lips parting slightly, as if he'd try again—but he didn't. Instead, he fell quiet, fingers curled around the warmth of the cup.

A raindrop landed softly on his cheek. Pete looked up, letting the cool splash of it hit his skin, and broke into a wide, unguarded smile.

Vegas saw it. His eyes found Pete's face and didn't move for a moment, caught in that small joy. Something flickered in him—an ache, maybe. But then he turned away, stood up abruptly, and walked straight toward the mansion.

Pete lowered his gaze. Porsche didn't say anything, just rose with a sigh and nudged Pete with his shoulder.

"Come on," he said gently. "Let's go inside."

The three of them ended up in the hall, warm and quiet as the storm rolled in. Kinn sat with his arm resting behind Porsche. Pete sat on the far end of the couch. Then Vegas came down the stairs, silent, a book in his hand. He didn't even glance at Pete as he crossed the room and dropped onto the nearby armchair, flipping the book open like no one else existed.

Porsche noticed. Of course he did. But he said nothing—for now.

Instead, he leaned toward Pete, casually sipping his coffee.

"So," he said, "that guy from the training center yesterday... what's his name? Mr. Day, right? The one who offered you a lift?"

Pete blinked. "Yeah?"

"Do you know him from before?" Porsche asked, tone light but eyes curious.

At the name, Vegas's grip on the book stilled. He didn't look up, but his shoulders went just a little stiff.

Pete shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. He looks... familiar, I guess. But I don't remember meeting him anywhere."

Vegas didn't move, but he hadn't turned a page in a while either.

Porsche sat back, a thoughtful hum on his lips. "Hmm. Interesting."

Suddenly, Kinn raised a brow and leaned forward with a grin. "He offered you a lift, huh? Wow, Pete." He gave a slow clap, clearly enjoying himself. "Tell me something—do you have a boyfriend?"

Pete choked on his coffee, coughing into his sleeve. "What? No—I haven't..."

"Hmmm," Kinn hummed thoughtfully.

Porsche perked up, mischief dancing in his eyes. "What if we help our charming manager and Pete get a little closer, hmm? Arrange a cute coffee date? Just saying..."