Pop 16
Tristan eased the car to a stop at the edge of the nursing home’s
dimly lit driveway. The building loomed in the quiet, its windows dark,
the world inside asleep.
Only the flickering orange glow of a distant streetlamp cut through the night,
making the place feel eerily hollow.
Before the engine had even settled, Leo pushed the door open so he can
quickly jump out and not spare Tristan a glance.
That will be less awkward after what just happened between them that night.
His hand pushed the door halfway, that’s when Tristan’s hand shot out,
firm and desperate, catching his arm.
“Leo—wait. Let’s talk.”
Leo froze, shoulders tense.
Slowly, he turned back, towards Tristan, releasing his grip from the door.
His tuxedo ribbon had loosened during the drive,
and he adjusted it in the side mirror, avoiding Tristan’s eyes.
His voice was steady, but sharp as glass.
“Talk? About what? About you feeling me up like I’m some bargain-bin can at the grocery store?”
Tristan’s eyes fell shut, shame pressing down hard.
“That’s not what I meant to do. That’s not what I was thinking.”
Leo finally looked at him, his eyes wet with restrained anger.
“What, then? That I’m easy? That because you’re hot,
I’ll just melt the second you put your hand on me?”
The words cut through the car’s stillness. Tristan forced himself to meet his gaze, his voice raw.
“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have touched you. I shouldn’t have tricked
you into thinking we were headed to an event when it was just… dinner.
Just me, wanting time with you.
Everything happened so fast.
I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just—”
his throat tightened, “you’re so damn handsome, Leo. And sometimes it’s hard to control myself.”
For a long moment, Leo only stared at his own reflection in the mirror, his jaw trembling.
Then, softly, he asked:
“You mean… you like me?”
Tristan didn’t blink. His gaze never left Leo.
“That’s exactly what I mean. I like you. I like you a lot.”
Leo turned then, eyes glistening under the dim dome light.
His words came out low, careful.
“And Olive? Where does your girlfriend fit into all this ‘liking’?”
The name landed like a stone. Tristan drew in a deep breath. “Olive…”
“Yes, Tristan,” Leo pressed, his voice cracking with something unspoken,
“where does Olive fit in everything that’s happening between us?”
Tristan’s eyes flickered, a nervous spark lighting them.
“So you admit it—something is happening between us?”
Despite himself, Leo exhaled, a small, quick smile slipping past his lips before he could bury it.
Tristan grinned, triumphant.
“You just smiled. Don’t deny it—I swear to all the Olives in the world, I saw it.”
Leo shook his head, half amused, half frustrated, and pushed the door open again.
“I need to go. Floors to mop, long night ahead. We’ll… talk tomorrow. Or—” he hesitated, “I’ll call you.”
Tristan ducked low, eyes never leaving him.
“For the record, I meant what I said. You look damn hot in that tux.”
Leo gave a small, bashful wave, fumbling with the janitor’s key at the back door of the nursing home.
The lock clicked open, and he slipped inside.
Tristan sat back, a smile tugging at his lips.
Only as he drove away did the realization sink in—he hadn’t thought of Olive once all evening.
Inside, Ashton stood by the glowing vending machine,
the neon hum casting blue shadows across his face.
In his hand, a can of soda sweated against his palm.
He was just about to crack it open when another hand gently swapped it out for a bottle of mango juice.
Leo.
“It’s better than soda,” Leo said, soft but certain. “More fiber. Good for your regularity.”
Ashton chuckled, eyes catching the sleek tuxedo. “
So what are you now—a magazine model?”
Leo laughed, the sound echoing faintly in the hall.
“This old thing? No. A friend lent it to me after a shoot tonight. Payment, I guess.”
Ashton let his gaze linger. “Well, it looks good on you.”
Before Leo could answer, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, reading the message quickly. His expression shifted.
“My neighbor just texted. He hired a caregiver for his wife.
Which means… this is my last night as the janitor here.”
The words hit Ashton harder than he expected.
His brow furrowed. “So… no more vending machine nights for us?”
Leo smiled, his mop leaning casually against his shoulder.
“I’ll still be around in the daytime. Don’t forget, I’m doing my nursing rotation here.”
Ashton let out a breath, feigning relief. “I was just teasing you.”
He raised the bottle in thanks. “And thanks for this.”
He sipped, the taste sharp and sweet.
Leo returned to his mop, silence filling the space between them.
Finally, Ashton set the drink down and walked toward his room. He paused at the doorway, turning back.
“Good night, handsome.”
Leo blinked, caught off guard, then laughed quietly. “Sleep well, Ashton. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
But then Leo added, almost mischievously—
“Good night, handsome.”
And this time, it was Ashton’s turn, his eyes light up.
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