Jock Next Bed (BL)-Chapter 243: Favourite young master

Chapter 243: Favourite young master
Sky’s pulse jumped hard in his throat. Heat surged straight to his face, and he had to drag his eyes away, focus on anything else. The chandelier above, Henry babbling to his stylist, Mei already snapping selfies with Rain, Wilson and Jack were seated side by side, talking about something. Rachel was pointing at a page in a magazine her stylist held. Probably a style she wanted. Anything.
But the mirror pulled him back.
And there it was again. Chris. Relaxed. Too relaxed. Letting someone else touch him, smile at him, enjoy himself.
Sky’s jaw clenched.
He told himself it was stupid. That it was nothing. That it didn’t matter. But his chest was tight, his hands wouldn’t unclench, and the words were already forming sharp in his mouth before he could stop them.
Calm down. Calm down.
Shit.
Calm the fuck down!
He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, hard, as if he could press the heat away. But his reflection betrayed him. The flush, the narrowed eyes, the way his gaze kept flicking back, over and over, no matter how much he tried not to look.
If Chris noticed, and of course he noticed, he didn’t show it. Not directly.
But just before Sky could wrench his eyes away again, Chris looked up. Straight at the mirror. Straight at him.
Their gazes locked, only for a second. And Chris’s smile changed. Slow. Knowing. The kind of smile that said don’t go all crazy now.
Sky’s heart lurched. He looked away so fast his stylist flinched, nearly dropping the comb.
The stylist pressed her palm gently to Sky’s temple, steadying his head. "Honey, stay still. You keep twitching."
"Sorry," Sky muttered, heat crawling up his neck. He wasn’t used to anyone except Rain and his mother fussing with his hair, much less here, with Chris only a few chairs away. His nerves were buzzing like wires.
The stylist chuckled under her breath. "You know, Lucas is a great stylist. He and Chris are quite close... as friends. Of course."
Sky’s eyes snapped to hers in the mirror. "Oh... uh, really?" he asked, too fast, too sharp. He wanted to sound casual, but it came out like an interrogation.
The lady’s smile was knowing, almost gentle. "Don’t look so tense. You’re his boyfriend, right?"
For a heartbeat, he froze, mind spinning with excuses, denials, ways to dodge. But the word "boyfriend" lingered, heavy and sweet in the air.
"Yes," he said finally, a little hoarse, the corner of his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
"I thought so," she said warmly. "Chris told me he was bringing his boyfriend here. Said I should make sure he look..." She paused, pretending to recall, then grinned. "His words exactly— ’as hot as he looks.’"
Sky let out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself, head tipping forward. The stylist laughed too, the sound bubbling into the hum of the salon.
And then, like a gust of wind, he felt him.
Chris was suddenly standing beside the chair, droplets of water still running from his damp hair, a towel tossed over his shoulders. His brows were raised, lips tugged into something between a smirk and mock offense.
"Are you seriously flirting with him in front of me?" Chris asked the stylist, his voice so light it was almost a whisper for the three of them only.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, swatting at him with her comb. "Sit your ass back down before you ruin your hair. Unless you want to walk into your party looking like a wet mop."
Chris grinned, not moving immediately, his gaze lingering on Sky in the mirror for just a fraction longer than necessary.
Sky rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips.
Chris put his hand on Sky’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze as he said, "Be good, okay?"
Sky just started at him quietly before he nodded awkwardly.
---
Chris’s hair hadn’t taken long. His stylist barely needed to do any extra thing since it had already been shaped days ago. He was the first to be finished and moved off toward the dressing area, leaving the rest behind. As for the girls, once they were done with the first stage, they had to be taken into a separate room to fix their make ups and finish the styling before getting dressed.
Soon, everyone disappeared one by one.
Sky stayed. His usual boyish mess of blonde hair was gone. Instead, it was slicked back with a precision that sharpened his face in ways he wasn’t prepared for. His cheekbones cut like they had been carved for trouble. The light skimmed over the gelled strands, leaving him gleaming, polished like some dangerous dream brought into focus.
Lucas appeared, smirking as if he’d been waiting for this reveal. "Damn, look at you," he said, giving a low whistle. Then he held out a small black gift box. "This is from our favourite young master."
Sky’s brow furrowed, suspicion written across his face. Still, he reached out and took the box. The lid gave with a soft click, and his breath stalled.
Inside was jewelry. A nose stud. A matching earring. A chain necklace. A slim ring. Each piece gleamed beneath the salon lights like it had been designed for him, like Chris had chosen it while picturing exactly how it would sit against his skin.
If those were real diamonds, Sky thought, he might actually die.
For a long, taut second, he just stared. His chest went tight. He wanted to scoff, to crack some careless joke about Chris being excessive, ridiculous even—but his fingers didn’t move. They hovered, brushing the cold shine like he couldn’t quite let go.
Elizabeth chuckled from where she leaned against the counter, head tilted with quiet amusement. "You really did hit the jackpot, didn’t you? That Chris... he’s a romantic one."
Sky’s jaw tightened. What the hell was he supposed to do?
He was about to snap the lid shut when Lucas shook his head, wagging a finger. "Ah, ah. No. He told me to tell you that if you like it, you should wear it. If you don’t..." He shrugged, lips twitching into a smug smile. "Well, I’m sure it took him a lot to choose this. Don’t disappoint our young master."
Lucas batted his lashes in a mock-cute way that might’ve been funny to someone else. To Sky, it was irritating as hell. His skin prickled. Our young master. Who the hell was this "our"?
Lunatic.