Will You Be My Escort

by Meg Harding

  He’s not expecting Aaron to cross to him and grab his chin, in that same firm way he did the night before. “Breathe,” he says.

  Jackson takes a deep breath and lets it out. He swallows nervously. Aaron is awfully close. He’s about Jackson’s size, a little bulkier and fitter, but he isn’t much taller or drastically bigger. He feels it, though.

  “Good.” Aaron lets go of his face and turns him around with a solid grip to his shoulders. “My bags are in my rental car. Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll help you pack once you’ve sorted that.”

  Jackson stares at his hallway and doesn’t move. He feels like he should be protesting Aaron’s bossiness. He waits for Aaron to snap at him for not hopping to, but when he does no such thing, Jackson thinks it might be all right to let this one slide. With utmost dignity—he’s going because he wants to, not because he was told to—he strides down the hall and into his room. He ignores his open suitcase with its guts spilled out from his organization attempts, and focuses on finding clothes for the moment.

  He pulls on a pair of white River Island shorts and a navy short-sleeve button-up. He’s got a pair of loafers in the entry hall that will go perfect with the outfit. He takes a look in his full-length mirror. He can get away with not doing his hair, and the cream he applied to his pimple before he went to bed has mostly solved the problem of his face. Should he change the gauges in his ears, though? What if he’s feeling something different during the trip?

  Maybe he should pack spares.

  There’s a knock on his bedroom door. “You decent?”

  As decent as he’ll ever be. “Yeah. Come in.” He’s going to have to get used to Aaron being in his personal space.

  Aaron comes in, and he brings the second suitcase with him. Jackson watches him take in the mess that is his packing attempt, but he doesn’t say anything or look disgusted by it. Jackson’s shoulders slump in relief, a tension he wasn’t even aware of leaving him.

  “What do you not have that you want?”

  You. He almost chokes on his own spit he’s so surprised by the thought. “Shoes,” he says, sounding strangled. He clears his throat. “And possibly spare gauges. Socks?”

  Aaron’s gaze flicks down to his bare feet. “Depends on what shoes you want to bring if you need socks.”

  Right. “I’ll go take a look at my shoes, then, and decide.”

  “All right. Mind if I put what you have left here in the bags? I might be able to arrange what you’ve already got in there to fit a little more.”

  He’s not the biggest fan of Aaron getting to see his briefs, but he understands they’re in a time crunch, and this is entirely his fault. “Knock yourself out,” he says and smiles. It feels more like a grimace, but he hopes it doesn’t look like one. He doesn’t want to scare Aaron off.

  He can only vaguely remember the days where that wasn’t a concern. But so many times later, when he is always the one being fucked over, it’s logical to think he’s the problem. So he knows he’s doing something wrong when he interacts with his partners. He just doesn’t know what. When this whole farce is over, maybe he’ll ask Aaron what it is he does. Surely the man will have noticed it. He can use this as a learning experience.

  Aaron doesn’t bat an eye, from where he’s sitting hunched over the open suitcase, when Jackson comes back with four pairs of shoes dangling from his fingertips. He reaches a hand out for them and tucks them securely into the netting on the inside of each case. Both of his bags are perfectly packed.

  “Thank you.”

  Aaron smiles warmly up at him. “You’re welcome.” He unfolds his legs and holds his hand out. Jackson helps him up. “Need anything else, or are we good to go?”

  Jackson looks around the room. He’d take his bed if he could. He always feels that way. “Just my phone. I think.” No matter how many times he does this, he always has the sensation he’s leaving something behind. Eight out of ten times, he’s not.

  “Do you need to eat anything?”

  That’s… he’s not all that hungry, but he really should. They have a long flight ahead, and airplane food is never the greatest. “I can pick something up at the airport.” They’ve got a large enough selection. He might be in the mood by then.

  He tries to grab one of his bags, but Aaron’s big hands bat his away. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you get your phone and make sure you have the charger?”

  He completely blanked on his charger. “Oh!” Where did he last have it?

  By the time he makes it to Aaron’s rental—a sleek Mercedes—Aaron’s already waiting in the front seat. He doesn’t chastise Jackson for taking so long, though. He actually smiles at him, broadly.

  “Got everything?”

  “Yep.” Jackson is so confused right now.

  “You can pick the station if you want,” says Aaron, as he backs out of the drive. The radio’s currently playing a Top 40 selection. Jackson’s good with it, and he says so.

  Aaron turns it up loudly enough that not talking isn’t awkward, and Jackson’s extremely grateful for that. He has no clue what to say. What does one chat to their fake boyfriend about? Now he doesn’t have to worry about it overmuch till they’re at the airport.

  He’s facing the window, watching the suburbs flash by as they head into the city, when he hears the deep bass voice join the chorus to “Ex’s & Oh’s.” He blinks at his reflection. Aaron’s got a lovely voice, and it should sound ridiculous paired with the song, but somehow it doesn’t. It makes him smile, makes him want to sing along as well. His eyes drift shut as he listens to Aaron sing song after song, and he dozes until they reach the airport.

  Unfortunately, that’s when his anxiety comes roaring back.

  Aaron’s going to be meeting his mom in mere minutes. They’re going to have to act like a couple. Why didn’t he ask Aaron what he liked to do with his partners? Is he the hand-holding type? The don’t-touch-me-in-public type?

  “Hey.”

  He turns. Aaron rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “Everything’s all right.”

  “Are you going to want me to hold your hand?” he blurts.

  Aaron looks confused. “Is that what you want?”

  Jackson doesn’t much care for holding hands, truth be told. His get clammy quickly. “What about what you want?” He doesn’t want to deny Aaron the hand-holding if he likes it. He’s doing Jackson a favor after all.

  Aaron’s brows furrow. His expression goes tight before smoothing out. “Let’s just take things naturally. If I do something you don’t like, tell me, and vice versa.”

  “Okay.”

  He uses that power pretty quickly. “I want to carry my own bags,” he says as he watches Aaron pull them from the trunk. He’s perfectly capable.

  Aaron nods and wheels them over. “Did you grab your phone out of the middle console?”

  Jackson’s sure he did, but he pats his pockets to make sure. It’s there. “Got it.”

  He has to practice inhaling and exhaling deeply as he walks into the airport. His palms are starting to sweat from the nerves, and he’s afraid he’s going to give it all up. He’s so tired of being an object of pity, of receiving setup offers and sad looks. He knows his mom doesn’t mean to make him feel that way, but she does.

  Aaron’s free hand settles on his lower back, a warm pressure through the cotton of his shirt. It’s surprisingly soothing. His breathing evens out.

  Despite how crowded JFK is, it’s not hard to find his family. All he has to do is look for the big group of blonds with a ginger thrown in for variety. Thankfully they don’t notice him as quickly. It probably has something to do with their fixation on Tristan. His blond head is standing out in the center, and his smile is visible even over the distance.

  It’s his height that makes it easy for Tristan to spot them first. Suddenly there are a lot of eyes on them. Jackson can feel the tips of his ears getting hot. He must have slowed down, because the pressure on his back gets firmer.

  His mom b
ustles her way to the front. She’s a woman of middle height—a respectable five foot five—and a slight build. Despite being petite, her presence is large. She used to act on the stage, and now she paints and sells art for a living. She looks over the moon as they approach.

  Her arms fly around him, and she’s hugging him tight enough to restrict his breathing before he can say hello. “Mom,” he says (gasps) against her shoulder, patting her back.

  “I’m so glad you’re moving on,” she says, smacking a kiss to his cheek. There’s going to be a lipstick mark there now.

  He swallows the lump in his throat. That right there is why this is so important. He needs to stop worrying her. She shouldn’t have to be concerned about him, even if those concerns are unfounded. Clearly he needs to show her he’s fine.

  Untangling himself from her, he reaches for Aaron’s arm to pull him forward. “Mom,” he says, “this is Aaron Wilkes.” Should he say anything else? Will she want to know how they “met” right now? He studiously does not look at his siblings’ facial expressions. He can only imagine how horrifying they are.

  Aaron holds his hand out. His smile is beyond charming. “Hello, ma’am,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  She beams. “Hello. You can call me Anna. My, you and Tristan are both so polite. Georgina said you happened to know each other. Isn’t that a lovely little quirk of fate?”

  His smile doesn’t drop. “The loveliest.”

  If he wasn’t so nervous, Jackson would roll his eyes. He can practically hear his mom thinking Aaron’s the nicest person he’s brought around. Too bad he’s not the real thing.

  “Everyone’s going to love you,” she says, still holding his hand like the crazy lady she really is. “And Georgina’s been ever so sweet as to bring her man along, so you won’t be alone.” Her smile gets a little pained. “I’m afraid our family is a bit much.”

  All the Carlisles snort.

  His dad moves forward and draws her away from Aaron. He shakes his hand, and it’s short and brief like a normal one. “It’s great to meet you. I’m Louis. I apologize in advance for the next two weeks.”

  Aaron introduces himself to Jackson’s siblings next, and they all smile and act like they don’t know what’s going on. It’s nice to have them on his side.

  As they’re making their way to security check, Aaron brushes against Jackson’s side. “Is your family really that bad?”

  Jackson has to try hard not to laugh. “You’ve got no idea.”

  THOSE AREN’T exactly inspiring words, and Aaron has dealt with some weirdass families. Weddings always bring out the best in people. It’s true he’s never done a family reunion before (though he’s always thought a wedding was a lot like one—minus the family the newlyweds hated). He guesses this will be similar but with the ones everyone hates there as well.

  He already needs to talk to Georgina. He’ll add it to the list of his questions. He’d like to get a moment with her sooner rather than later. Jackson has… he doesn’t want to say issues, but that’s what they are. He has issues when it comes to how relationships should go, and Aaron’s going to go out on a limb and say someone gave them to him. Possibly several someones.

  Seeing Jackson’s mom’s reaction to the news Jackson has a date gives Aaron a good indication as to why he’s here. He understands she means well, but there’s a saying about best intentions for a reason. He lets the lot of them get ahead and stops Jackson with a soft touch to his arm. Jackson turns to face him, and Aaron rubs his thumb over the smear of burgundy lipstick on his cheek till it’s gone. It’s a little hard to tell, though, thanks to Jackson blushing.

  He needs to word this next bit carefully.

  “This isn’t… doing this isn’t a hardship for me. We should have fun with this.”

  Jackson stares seriously at him. “I don’t get you,” he says. “I can’t wrap my head around why you’d agree to this.” He clears his throat. “I mean. I know this is your job, but this was supposed to be your vacation time.”

  Aaron sighs. How to explain? “If you had a friend who asked you to do what Tristan’s asked me to, and he said ‘By the way, the guy’s pretty fine,’ would you say no? You’re not the only person in the world with a family they want to put a front on for.” He laughs. “Believe me. You’re not the first person to do something like this, and you won’t be the last.” He ducks his head to make sure the eye contact is perfect and Jackson’s really looking. “And they’re not losers for wanting help. I like to help.”

  Jackson’s pink tongue pokes out to sweep over his lips. “Have you done something like this before? Not for other people. But for yourself. For your family?”

  Well, not for his family. His parents are the “whatever makes you happy” kind of people. But he knows what will make Jackson feel better. “I have,” he says, and he watches as Jackson’s shoulders sag and the lines around his eyes smooth out the tiniest amount.

  He isn’t expecting the hug.

  Jackson lets go of his suitcase handle to wrap both of his arms around Aaron’s waist as he presses his face hard against his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says, the words muffled by Aaron’s shirt. Aaron returns the embrace, running a hand up and down his spine. He’s warm against him, a solid line of heat that’s shaking ever so slightly. He doesn’t let go until the shaking has subsided and Jackson’s breathing is steadier.

  He’s much calmer as they make their way to the first-class lounge, and Jackson takes a seat next to one of his brothers—Aaron thinks it might be James—and starts to ask him about dog treats of all things. Aaron excuses himself for a coffee and asks Georgina if she’d like to go with him. His picture of Jackson right now is nothing more than a fraction of a puzzle outline completed. If he’s going to be of any help, he needs to have the full picture as quickly as possible.

  They do get coffee, though. Taking a booth seat in a somewhat empty area of the little coffee shop that by some miracle isn’t Starbucks, Aaron looks at Georgina. Her eyes aren’t as blue as Jackson’s and they’re missing the gray, green spiking around the edges instead if you look carefully. The hair’s the same color. Her cheekbones are equally sharp, eyes just as large. This is a family who bears a strong likeness to one another.

  “Your brother has very low self-esteem,” he says. “And I strongly suspect that’s not natural for him.” There’s no point being anything but blunt. He can’t help if he doesn’t have information.

  Georgina looks sad. She stirs her coffee, gaze on the swirling liquid and not him. “Jackson has absolutely rotten luck with dating,” she says. “And it’s started to take a toll.” Her smile is awful. It makes his stomach twist. “Jackson’s a bit of a romantic, you see. He’s a firm believer in overlooking flaws for whatever he deems to be all right. When he’s working or with friends, he doesn’t have problems saying what he wants and being confident. Bring a girlfriend or boyfriend into the picture, and he starts scrambling to please. He’s terrified he’s going to lose ‘the one’ because he’s not good enough.” She shakes her head angrily. “Which is bullshit. He’s just got horrid taste.”

  That confirms Aaron’s suspicions.

  Georgina goes on before he can say anything. “He dated this girl in high school, and she broke up with him because she was getting teased for dating a guy who liked makeup. Then there was a guy who wrote him a note to end things because he wanted to be as ‘impersonal’ as he felt Jackson was in public spaces. He didn’t used to go in for obvious PDA, but he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it anymore. Pretty sure it’s something he forced himself to become used to. There’s been some cheaters, quite a few quietly mean ones.” She shrugs. “With each one he becomes a little less of a romantic. It’s understandable, but… he shouldn’t have to lose that. I don’t want him to lose that. I want him to realize he can be who he is and get what he wants, and he shouldn’t have to give up on anything.”

  By the last word, her face is bright red and she’s slightly out of breath. Aar
on has two siblings—an older sister and a brother a year younger. He knows just how upset he would be if this were one of them.

  He puts his hand over hers on the table and squeezes. “I’m not a miracle worker, but I’m going to try to bring a little bit of his confidence back.”

  Her smile is brittle. “That’s all I ask.”

  Chapter Four

  IF THERE’S one good thing to come out of this reunion, it’s Jackson getting to spend the next two weeks in Hawaii. He’s been before, for both work and pleasure, and he loves it. He’s a bit of a beach guy, even if he is from New York. He finds the ocean soothing, which is something he desperately needs right now. After he crawled off Georgina’s couch following the Angel debacle, he went to Bora-Bora for a month. He came back feeling less like he was hit by a semitruck.

  Hopefully Hawaii will take the sting out of being subjected to his extended family. Objectively he knows they’re probably not actually bad, but when he’s in the thick of it and surrounded by them, it’s hard to think like that. He spends the plane ride bracing Aaron, whose eyes steadily glaze over as the list of relatives goes on and on.

  “So there’s Fred, he’s a third cousin, and he’s all right as long as you keep him away from cocktails. Then there’s Lucy, and she hates Denver—my brother, not the city. We’re not entirely sure why. She’s a first cousin. Then there’s Aunt Lila, and she’s… something else. Try to avoid her. She hates Dad, thinks we’re all a bunch of hippies who don’t deserve our money.”

  It goes on for a while.

  As the plane is landing, Aaron asks, “Does anyone in your extended family like you?”

  “Yes,” says Jackson. “I didn’t name even close to everyone who’ll be there.”

  “I see.” He holds his hand up to stop Jackson from continuing. “I need a moment to process all of that. That was a lot of names.”