by J. A. Rock
eyes. “I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I can’t do
that again.”
“Do what again?”
“Can’t live with someone I don’t really know,”
Aiden mumbled.
Their food arrived. Keaton thanked the waiter.
“Take some time to think about it. You don’t have to
decide today. You can call me anytime. I mean that.”
Aiden toyed with his sandwich. He managed to eat
a potato chip before nausea overwhelmed him. He
excused himself to the bathroom, where he threw up,
then washed his face and lectured himself in front of the
mirror.
Pull it together. Think about what he’s saying. You can’t
stay with Hera. You’re driving each other crazy.
He returned to the table.
“All right?” Keaton asked.
“Just feeling a little—I don’t know.”
“Could be low blood sugar. Dessert’ll help with
that.”
Aiden shook his head. “I… I think I might need to
go home.”
Keaton nodded. “Can I offer you a ride?”
“No, thanks. The walk will help.”
“Aiden?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to know, before you go—I know we
saw each other briefly that night at Obey. I have been
involved in the BDSM community for a long time. Even
if you don’t stay with me, if you ever want to talk about
what happened with Scott, or anything relating to the
lifestyle, I’ll listen.”
Aiden looked at the floor. “Thanks. I’m okay,
though.”
They parted with Aiden promising he’d think more
about Keaton’s offer. Aiden went home and slept.
He woke when Hera came home, and heard Sloane
rush downstairs to join her in the kitchen.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Sloane stage-whispered.
“Take what?” Hera asked.
“Him,” Sloane said. “I know he’s your friend. I like
him, I do. I just can’t handle him living here.”
“Is he here now?” Hera’s voice was very soft.
“Yeah, he’s sleeping. And about half an hour ago,
he was screaming so loud I’m surprised the neighbors
didn’t call the cops.”
“It’s only for a little while.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Sloane—”
“I’m serious.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Hera said.
Aiden released the breath he’d been holding. He
got up, stalked to the front bathroom, and slammed the
door. He splashed water on his face, took a deep breath,
dug the phone out of his pocket, and called Keaton. He
was convinced panic would swallow him whole, but
then he heard Keaton’s warm “hello,” and he held
himself together enough to say, “It’s Aiden. I’ve been
thinking about what you said today.”
“Oh?”
“I—If it’s still okay… I’d like to take you up on your
offer.”
“Certainly,” Keaton said. “When?”
“Um… ” Aiden heard Hera call his name. “Could
I… Is this weekend too soon?”
“I teach until four thirty on Friday. A friend of mine
has a truck. I can pick you and your stuff up.”
“I don’t have much. I can just drive over.”
“If you’re sure. Anytime after five.”
Keaton gave Aiden the address, said he looked
forward to seeing Aiden, and hung up. No instructions
about what kind of underwear Aiden should have on or
how Aiden should address Keaton once he was inside
the house. Aiden felt relieved. Maybe the offer really was
just a friendly gesture on Keaton’s part.
Yeah, right. He’s a top. He obviously expects something.
You’ll just have to wait until you’re there to figure out what.
There was a light knock on the door. “Aiden?”
Hera’s voice. “You all right?”
He flushed the toilet even though he hadn’t gone to
the bathroom, washed his hands, and reluctantly opened
the door. Hera stood in the hall, looking concerned.
“I’m going to stay with Keaton,” he told her.
Hera sighed and gave him a quick smile. “That’ll be
nice,” she said. “He’s a cool guy. Really smart.”
Aiden nodded.
“I’ll miss having you here.”
Yeah, right. “It’s been fun,” Aiden said.
“You want to watch a movie?”
“No, thanks. I think I’m gonna go out for a little
bit.”
He made it to the parking lot behind Obey but
couldn’t go in. He went to the coffee shop instead, and
when they closed, he went to an all-night diner. He
stayed out as late as he could, then crept back into Hera’s
house and lay awake the rest of the night, afraid that if he
fell asleep, he’d have screaming nightmares.
On Friday he packed what little he had. His
stomach knotted and unknotted as he waited for five
o’clock to arrive. Kim tried to get him to eat some kind of
soup for lunch, but he felt too sick. Five o’clock came,
and Aiden waited until five thirty so as not to seem
overeager. Hera hugged him good-bye.
“Be a good boy,” she said.
He snorted. “Shut up.”
“You nervous?”
“No,” he lied.
“I think you’re gonna have a great time. You won’t
even want to go back to your old place.”
“We’ll see.”
Hera looked like she wanted to say something. She
opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, “He’s not
going to hurt you. You know that, right? He’s not like
Scott.”
“I know,” Aiden said, annoyed.
“All right, dork.” She gave him another hug.
He relaxed and hugged her back. Then he got into
his car and drove to the address he’d written down. The
house was modest—two stories, with a brick foundation
and white siding. He parked on the street. Keaton’s blue
Solara was in the open garage. Aiden slipped on his
backpack, thrust his hands in his pockets, and walked up
the drive.
Don’t freak out. You can do this.
The front door opened, and Keaton stepped out.
“Can I help you carry anything?”
“No, thanks. It’s just this and one other bag.”
Keaton held the door open. “Welcome,” he said.
The foyer was simple and elegant, with a patterned
wood floor, cream-colored walls, and a small table that
held the strangest vase Aiden had ever seen. It was a
dark, translucent green, shot through with gold, and it
spiraled upward and out in a way that seemed to defy
physics. A few dark, gnarled twigs sprouted from it.
“Did you make that?”
“I did. Long time ago. Come on, put your bag
down. I’ll get you a drink. Then we’ll take the grand
tour.”
Aiden followed him to the kitchen. “I’m not
actually thir—”
“Water? Milk? Lemonade? Root beer? Wine?”
“Um, water please.” It was all he could handle right
now.
; Keaton brought two glasses of water to the table.
Aiden waited until Keaton was sitting before he sat.
Keaton didn’t seem to expect him to await orders, but
Aiden felt safer taking his cues off the older man.
“You have any trouble finding the place?” Keaton
asked.
“No, Sir.” The “Sir” came out automatically.
Keaton glanced at him but didn’t comment.
“This is Oak Avenue. A couple of streets over is
Oak Hills, and then there’s Oak Circle. Even the mailman
gets confused.”
“Have you lived here long?” Aiden asked.
“Two years in February. I moved here to take the
job at the community college.”
“Do you like it?”
“Pretty well. I’ve got a relaxed schedule this
semester, so I’ve had plenty of time for my own work.”
“What kind of art do you do?”
“Mostly ceramics. And a little painting.”
“That sounds… fun,” Aiden said.
“You do theater?”
“How did you know?”
Keaton glanced at the table, blushing a little.
“Someone at Obey told me.”
Aiden regarded the man with interest. So he’d
actually sought information about Aiden? “I used to. But
not anymore. I mean, I was just in a show a couple of
weeks ago. But I don’t, like, try to do it for a living. I
went to school for it.”
“I’m jealous.”
“Why?”
“I had musical theater aspirations when I was
younger. But my singing voice is, ah, not so good.”
“I don’t sing much. I mean, I can. I’m not great.
Same with dancing.”
“You have such a presence. I’ll bet you’re
wonderful onstage.”
“I have a presence?”
“Don’t look so surprised.”
“It’s just… ” Aiden blushed. “I don’t really feel like
I have a presence anymore.”
“Anymore?”
Aiden shrugged and didn’t offer anything else.
“Do you want to see the guest room?”
Aiden nodded. Keaton led him upstairs. “This is
my studio.” Keaton indicated the door to their left. “It’s a
disaster right now, or I’d let you take a look. Next up is
the bathroom.” He nudged the door open. “This is all
yours. I’ve got one in my room.” The bathroom was
spotless, which made Aiden curious about Keaton’s
“disaster” of a studio. Is there, like, a paintbrush he forgot to
put away?
Keaton continued down the hall and stopped in
front of a door with an old-fashioned knob and keyhole.
“And here’s the main attraction.”
He opened the door and made a sweeping bow.
Aiden stepped into the room. The floor was dark
hardwood, but a white area rug covered most of it. The
walls were the deep blue of winter twilight, and painted
on them in very faint, ghostly silver were winding forms
that suggested human limbs, branches, smoke. The
figures twined together, creating elegant patterns, harsh
knots, delicate harmonies. The effect was subtle but
stunning.
“You hand-painted this?” Aiden asked.
“Took about two months.”
“Good grief… you’re like, insanely talented.”
“Maybe just insane.”
Aiden admired the faint, smoky shapes, trying to
follow each one with his eyes. He finally tore his gaze
away long enough to check out the furniture—a small,
sleek wooden desk, a huge dresser, and a high, queen-
size bed in a pale blue iron frame. There was a three-
tiered night table by the bed with a digital clock, a box of
tissues, and a lamp.
“My room’s at the very end of the hall,” Keaton
said. “Towels and washcloths are in the bathroom closet.
There’s soap, shampoo… Extra toothbrushes, paste, Q-
tips… What am I forgetting?”
“This is more than enough. I really appreciate it.”
Aiden glanced at the other man in time to see the quiet
relief in his eyes.
“Well,” Keaton said, “I’m very glad to have you.
Make yourself at home. Anything in the kitchen is
yours.”
They stood there for a moment, and Aiden
wondered if Keaton wanted to fuck now. Aiden still
dreaded the idea of sex, even though he didn’t hurt
anymore. Still, he figured he should offer Keaton
something. He sat down on the bed. “I could show you
how grateful I am?” He tried for a seductive tone, but his
voice sounded small, uncertain.
Keaton didn’t reply, merely studied him like Aiden
was a strange taxidermied creature in a museum.
“I give really good head,” Aiden hurried on. “You
hear that from anyone at Obey?” Keaton still didn’t
answer, and Aiden’s insides grew cold with fear. “You
can fuck me, if you want, it’s just—”
“Aiden.” Keaton held up a hand. “I don’t want to
have sex with you. Not that you’re not a very attractive
man—you are. But you don’t have to do any favors for
me in exchange for staying here. I invited you as a
friend.”
Aiden stared at the rug, stunned and humiliated
and more than a little angry. Keaton didn’t want to have
sex with him? He tried to tell himself that he didn’t want
to have sex with Keaton, either. But despite his
uneasiness about sex, he couldn’t deny how attractive
Keaton was. And he’d assumed Keaton wanted him, that
that’s why he’d invited Aiden to stay with him.
“Aiden?” Keaton said. “All right?”
Aiden nodded. “I have to use the bathroom.” He
got up and walked out of the room, down the hall, and
into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it. He
stared into the mirror. Can you blame him for not wanting to
fuck you? Hollow eyes with shadows beneath them. Skin
too pale, hair in need of a trim, face gaunt and tense.
He heard Keaton’s footsteps going downstairs. He
washed up, then slipped out of the bathroom and into
the guest room. He rummaged in his bag for a tight T-
shirt, removed his button-down, and put on the tee.
Keaton was in the kitchen. “I’m just going to heat
up a pot of leftover chili for dinner,” Keaton said.
“There’s plenty if you want some.”
“I’m not hungry.” Aiden pulled his keys out of his
pocket. “I’m going out.”
He half expected Keaton to forbid it, but Keaton
just said, “Let me give you the garage code, in case
you’re out late. I leave the door from the garage to the
laundry room unlocked.” He wrote the code on a sticky
note. “The chili’ll be in the fridge for later.”
Aiden nodded. Thanks, Mom. He bolted for the front
door. For a while, he just drove, trying to convince
himself he hadn’t made a horrible mistake agreeing to
stay with Keaton. What the hell kind of top was Keaton
Hughes? He could have demanded anything of Aiden.
Instead he just calmly announced he di
dn’t want to have
sex, then offered Aiden leftover chili?
Maybe he’s waiting to reveal his dom side. Maybe he
wants to let me get comfortable first. Aiden shivered, wishing
he’d brought a jacket. He drove to a local bar and started
drinking, moving on to another bar, then another. He
stumbled out of the last place around two a.m., left his
car, and took a cab to Keaton’s, impressed he’d
remembered the address.
When he arrived, he realized he’d lost the note with
the garage code on it. “Hold on a sec,” he muttered to the
cab driver. He had no wish to discover how pissed
Keaton would be at being woken up in the middle of the
night, especially since Keaton had class the next
morning. He searched his pockets one more time.
“What’s the problem?” the driver asked.
“Could you—could you take me somewhere else?”
The driver rolled his eyes. “Your money.”
Aiden had the driver take him to Hera’s. A light
was on in the house. He knocked on the door. Kim
answered. She didn’t seem surprised or ask him what he
was doing there. She just stepped aside so he could
come in.
He followed her to the kitchen and sat down at the
table. Kim left, and a moment later, Hera entered in her
pajamas. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “What
happened?”
“Nothing’s—I lost his garage code.”
“What?”
“I was out at some bars, and he gave me the garage
code so I could get back in, but I lost it.”
“So you couldn’t knock? Or call his cell?”
“I didn’t want to wake him up.”
“Why were you out? Did something happen with
Keaton?”
Just the opposite. “I felt like going out. Who cares?
Just because I’m staying at his place doesn’t mean I have
to hang out with him every second.”
“You sound trashed.”
“I am trashed.”
“You can crash here tonight. I’ll drive you back to
your car in the morning; then you can go to Keaton’s.
Assuming he’ll take you back.”
“Jesus Christ, we’re not dating!”
“Relax. Come on now, you’re going to bed.”
“Did I fuck things up?” Aiden asked, feeling
suddenly small and miserable.
“You’ll be all right. Come on.”
She led him to the living room and helped him onto
the couch. She made him drink a bottle of water, which
reminded him of that first night with Scott. He fell into an
uneasy sleep.
