by Nora Phoenix
Aaron’s posture froze. “How did you know who I was?”
“Dude, you look enough like Josh to make it obvious. You guys have the same build, the same eyes, and you even sound the same. I know you recently came out as gay, but Aaron, you really need to learn how to do this. You cannot walk up to men you’ve barely met and ask them out. Somebody will take offense and beat the shit out of you.”
Blake stepped in. “They already have, and I’m starting to see why.”
Aaron blushed fiercely. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Actually, I can,” Indy said. “It’s offensive to be asked out simply because you can tell I’m gay. It reeks of you wanting to lose your gay V-card, and while I’m sure there are guys more than happy to help you out, it doesn’t appeal to me at all. You’re not even close to being my type, as any gay man would’ve been able to tell you, and I’m damn sure I’m not yours, either.”
Indy wasn’t pulling any punches, and Blake almost felt sorry for Aaron. Almost, because Blake’s anger was still bubbling below the surface, and there was no doubt in his mind Aaron needed to hear this. He might not realize it now, but Indy was doing him a massive service. “Why would I not be your type?”
Indy deserved credit for not rolling his eyes at that question. Blake totally would have, no doubt in his mind. “You’ve met Noah, right? That’s my type. Big, strong, bossy as fuck. Which would be your type as well, if I had to hazard a guess.”
Aaron’s face grew even redder. Blake suppressed a chuckle. It looked like Indy’s guess had been spot-on.
“How the f-f-fuck would you know what my type is?” Aaron sputtered, clearly embarrassed as hell. It would have come out a lot stronger if he hadn’t stuttered on the word “fuck.”
Indy merely laughed. “Experience. Now, that’s ‘How to Be Gay 101’ for today. I have a training I want to get back to.”
He turned around, but Aaron, clearly frustrated by something, stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. Blake winced, knowing what was coming. Within a second, Indy grabbed that hand and put his foot back, twisting his hips, effectively slinging Aaron over his hip, flat on the ground. The air left Aaron’s lungs with an audible whoosh. That had to hurt, especially since his previous injuries weren’t completely healed. Well, he shouldn’t have touched Indy.
Lesson learned. Hopefully.
Aaron groaned in pain. “What the heck did you do that for?”
Indy looked at him calmly, not even breaking a sweat. “Don’t ever, ever put your hands on me again.” He turned around and went back to his warm-up exercises as if nothing had happened.
Blake reached out a hand to Aaron, letting him pull himself up. Aaron grimaced in pain. Good. Hopefully, he’d remember this for the next time. “Can he do that? Isn’t there like a code for jiujitsu or something that you can’t use it to harm others?”
Blake mentally counted to ten. For some reason, this boy exasperated him. “Did you put your hands on him?” he asked.
“I was only touching his shoulder!”
Blake was done being patient. Apparently, the message had not been clear enough yet. He stepped in, bringing their faces close. They were the same height so he stared hard into Aaron’s eyes. “You put your hands on him without his permission. He defended himself, as is his right. The next time I see you do that with him or with anyone else, I will kick you out on your ass. Do you feel me?”
Aaron nodded, clearly intimidated. Good. Maybe a solid dose of fear would help him develop some common sense. Fuck knew he needed it.
2
There had to be a more accurate word than embarrassed to describe how Aaron felt.
Mortified.
Completely and utterly humiliated.
He cleaned the restrooms and changing rooms in the front of the studio, making sure to sanitize everything. People always forgot to clean the door handles in his experience, so he wiped them down with antibacterial spray. He mopped the floors as well, leaving them looking shiny and smelling clean. All the while his brain was spinning with how badly he’d messed up.
He vacuumed the hallway, shooting a look over his shoulder every now and then to watch Blake and Indy fight, or whatever it was called. He would have thought the much smaller and lighter Indy wouldn’t stand a chance, but he made Blake work for it. Judging by the big grin on his face, Blake didn’t mind.
This was the happiest Aaron had ever seen him. Not that that was saying a lot, because Blake was always strict and sour with him. For some reason Aaron seemed to exasperate Blake, which made him feel hopeless at times. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. He felt lost, clueless about what to say, what to do—especially around Blake who seemed to be perfect, put together, always in control.
It was unfair, how Indy had called him out. How was he to know this slender guy with the gorgeous eyes was the elusive Indy? He’d only overheard Josh and Connor talk about him, without a clue what he looked like. All he’d done was meet a cute guy, deduce he was gay, and ask him out. What was so wrong with that?
Well, it had been kinda awkward, he had to admit that. And Indy did have a point that he wasn’t Aaron’s type. Aaron could objectively say Indy was cute, but he wasn’t, like, wildly attracted to him. Still, he figured maybe attraction came later? He knew nothing about this anyway, as he’d clearly demonstrated.
He’d merely googled some stuff, had discovered that apparently gays were either a top, a bottom, or versatile. The terms were pretty self-explanatory he presumed. He’d tried to find out how you knew which you were, but the advice hadn’t been very helpful. Experimenting had come up regularly—which had been his motivation to ask Indy out. He’d figured an obviously gay guy like Indy would have been up for a little experimenting. Not so much, as it turned out. His mistake.
Why was this so hard? First he’d tried at that bar and had gotten a solid beating as a reward. He’d finally worked up the guts to ask someone out again, and Indy had put him flat on the floor. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t make this work? He’d done it exactly as he’d read online: flirt a little, then be self-confident and ask. Like everything else in his life, he sucked at this, too. Fuck-up, all over again.
He opened the door to Blake’s office to vacuum in there. Everything was ridiculously neat. Almost OCD-tidy. His eyes fell on some pictures on the wall, and he stepped closer to examine them. Blake, holding up a trophy he’d won. Blake with two other men handing him a black belt, all dressed in the same white uniforms. Blake with a group of kid students.
His favorite was Blake during a match of some kind, wearing only tight shorts. His face was covered in small droplets of sweat, his dark hair even longer back then and tied back into a ponytail, his piercing blue eyes completely focused. He was really sexy, Aaron thought, not for the first time. And his body was…well, perfect. Not the bulky, almost fake build bodybuilders displayed so often, but lean and muscled all over.
Aaron stepped closer. The guy had an actual six-pack in that picture. An eight-pack, more accurately. Not an ounce of fat on his body. How had Indy put it? Big, strong, bossy as fuck. It sure as heck applied to Blake, and Aaron couldn’t deny that looking at this picture made his stomach swirl.
He forced himself to look away. It was useless. Even if Blake were gay, he’d never give Aaron a second look. The man was constantly annoyed by him, an effect he seemed to have on people. Josh and Connor sure had gotten rid of him as fast as they could. Then again, he couldn’t blame Josh. Not after what he’d done to him. It was just… He’d hoped to be able to mend fences with him and get his brother back. Without his parents, his brother, and without any friends as well, Aaron was so lonely. Lost. Drifting.
There was another picture on the wall, a little to the side from the others. Blake with three other men who had to be his brothers, since all four shared the same black hair and that Mediterranean look. Younger brothers, by the looks of it. Blake wasn’t exactly smiling, but it was close enough, and two of the others were sporting big grins. I
t was the fourth brother, the one who appeared the youngest, that made Aaron pause. His focus was slightly off, instead of at the camera, and his face was blank, for lack of a better word. Like he wasn’t entirely present for what was happening.
The floor behind him creaked, and he startled, looking over his shoulder. Blake stared at him, arms crossed. “You snooping around?” he asked.
Aaron shook his head vehemently. “No. I came in to vacuum and got distracted by the pictures on the wall, that’s all.” Had he disappointed him again? Would there ever come a day when he got it right with this man?
Blake’s face softened. “Okay. Sorry. Didn’t mean to accuse you, but I’m a rather private person.”
“That’s interesting, considering you constantly have strangers living in your house,” Aaron remarked.
Blake shrugged. “I don’t mind sharing quarters with others, as long as I have a room to myself. You may have noticed my bedroom is always locked.”
Aaron hadn’t, but the mere thought of Blake’s bedroom was enough to unnerve him. What would it look like? Would he ever bring anyone home?
“Speaking of bedrooms, you and I need to have a conversation about sexual boundaries,” Blake said sternly. He lowered himself on the edge of his desk, gestured for Aaron to take a seat in the desk chair.
Please, no. He wanted to sink into a large hole, right now. “Do we really?”
It was meant as a plea, but for some reason it came out the wrong way, like he didn’t think he needed any help. He winced. Was this why Blake thought he was arrogant, because he meant one thing, but communicated something else entirely?
“Aaron, what you did with Indy, it was wrong on so many levels. That kind of behavior may be acceptable in a gay club, but not in everyday life. You cannot walk up to someone you don’t even know and ask him out. It’s the kind of thing that will get you in trouble, do you understand what I’m saying?”
They were really going to talk about this? It seemed his humiliation knew no end this day. “I get it, okay? No more asking strangers out, noted.”
Blake’s posture changed, softened. “I know this is all new for you, but surely the same rules applied when you were dating girls?”
“I never dated girls,” Aaron blurted out, then wanted to curl up and die. Why did I confess that embarrassing truth? As if I’m not enough of a loser already.
Blake’s eyes widened for a second before he had himself under control again. “Hmm. I guess the whole thing is new to you then, huh? How come, if I may ask?”
Aaron cleared his throat. If Blake had even displayed a trace of judgment in his voice, he would have taken off, but the man seemed truly interested. He was a good listener, Aaron had discovered before.
“I grew up in a conservative Christian home. The no-sex-before-marriage kind, so you can imagine what happened when Josh came out as gay. My parents were livid. After that, all the attention was on me. I’m not kidding: they were watching me like a hawk to make sure I wouldn’t end up like my brother. I was supposed to be the perfect son, who would marry a nice virgin girl and have three kids and a Golden Retriever.”
“I take it they didn’t show much understanding when you, too, came out.”
Aaron sighed. “No. Which showed how superficial their love was. They only loved me as long as I was their perfect son. When I stopped conforming to the ideal they had of me, when I wanted to be myself, they threw me out. I lost my parents, my job, my apartment, all because I came out.”
“And maybe your identity, too?” Blake offered.
Aaron’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You had an identity as a Christian, a son, a congressional aide, a professional, and a heterosexual man. All of that is gone, correct? So who are you now?”
Aaron opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Who was he? Who was Aaron Gordon? He couldn’t come up with a single word, other than gay, and surely he was more than that. His heart painfully constricted. How had his life crumbled right before his eyes? And more importantly: where the heck did he start to rebuild it?
“I don’t know,” he said finally, Blake patiently waiting all that time. “I honestly don’t know.”
“That’s a good place to start, by admitting that you don’t know,” Blake assured him.
“You told me I needed to get my shit together, and that I had to learn to ask for help. I’m asking, Blake. Where do I start? How do I find out who I am, now that I’m no longer who I thought I was or pretended to be?”
Somehow, his chest felt lighter saying that. Maybe there was something to be said for the statement that asking for help was the biggest hurdle in getting better.
Blake smiled, an honest-to-God smile, and Aaron’s insides reacted with fervor. “I’m proud of you, Aaron. That was not an easy thing to say. Well done.”
Oh, boy, that smile in combination with those words had a funny effect on Aaron. His stomach was doing a happy dance, and his hands were getting all clammy. “Thank you,” he managed.
“Look, here’s what you do. Write down ten things that you want to be, do, or have. Like a job, or new friends, or whatever. Then write down ten things that you don’t want to be, do, or have anymore. Maybe you could include that snotty, self-entitled attitude. Then we’ll start tackling those things, one at a time.”
“We?” It was the word that had jumped out to him. Was Blake really offering to help him?
“Yes, we. I’ll help you, Aaron. You’re not alone in this.”
For some reason, those words broke him. He’d been on his own ever since his parents had kicked him out. He’d lost all his friends—well, maybe they had never been friends in the first place. He’d lost Josh long before that, which he only had himself to blame for. He’d felt so incredibly lonely, like he was drowning and no one was even trying to save him. And here was Blake, throwing him not just a lifejacket, but jumping in to swim him to shore.
Tears started streaming down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I can’t seem to…” A sob escaped, and he buried his head in his hands. The next sob was powerful, racking his body. He gave up, unable to stop the flood that was coming. He put his arms on the desk, cradled his head, and let go.
Seconds later, Blake’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing him gently. “It’s okay, Aaron. You’ve been holding a lot in. Let it out.”
Aaron cried and cried, while Blake’s hand moved from his shoulder to his hair, softly rubbing his hair, his head, his scalp. It was a soothing gesture that made him feel protected and safe. Finally, after what seemed like half an hour, the tears stopped and the sobs subsided. He hiccupped and released a long breath. Blake’s hand stilled but remained on his head.
“You okay now?” he asked.
“Yeah. Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll let you collect yourself a bit. Finish here afterward, and then go home. You can do the mat tomorrow, after your first lesson.”
Aaron’s head came up, and Blake’s hand slid off. “Lesson?”
“Yeah. Rebuilding your identity means realigning body, mind, and soul. We’ll start with your body. You need rhythm and exercise, and you’re gonna get both when you show up here tomorrow morning at eight.”
“At eight?”
Blake laughed softly. “By then I’ve already finished an hour-long workout. Eight o’clock sharp, Aaron. Don’t let me down.”
Aaron nodded automatically. Blake gave his head an affectionate little pat and walked out, leaving Aaron behind. He was exhausted from the crying spell and self-conscious that Blake had seen him break down like that, but in his heart a strange excitement burned. Tomorrow, Blake would start training him. He would not let him down.
Blake looked at the clock, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel. Seven forty-five. Would Aaron be on time? More importantly, would he even show up? Blake had not explained anything to him about the training he had in mind. That would have been impossible, since it had been an impulse deci
sion—in itself an extraordinary event, since he rarely gave in to his impulses. He’d seen firsthand what happened if you didn’t have your temper and impulses under control, so he had a tight rein on his.
It’s why his offer to Aaron had been so surprising. Something about the kid got to him. Well, technically at twenty-four Aaron was anything but a kid, but with his incredible naïveté he might as well have been. Life had dealt him a nasty curveball, and it would be interesting to see what Aaron was made of.
Blake threw the towel in the laundry basket. He stretched slowly, allowing all his muscles to tighten, then relax. With complete focus he went through an extensive routine to stretch all of his big muscles. As he was stretching his hamstrings, the doorbell buzzed. Seven fifty-nine. He smiled. Cutting it close.
Aaron walked in, dressed in training pants and a simple white T-shirt, his dirty blond hair looking like he’d rolled straight out of bed. It was kind of adorable, really.
“Good morning,” Blake said in a friendly manner.
“Hi. Erm, I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I hope this is okay?” He pointed to his pants.
“You’re fine. Ditch the shoes and socks, though. Bare feet only in this room.”
Aaron looked at his shoes. “Oh. Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He walked back to the hallway, came back a minute later barefoot and walked to the mat. “So, erm, what exactly are you going to teach me?”
“Brazilian jiujitsu, obviously.”
“Aren’t I a little old to learn?”
“Not at all. I have many adults who come in for beginner’s classes. We’ll start easy, okay? You have any experience at all in martial arts?”
Aaron shook his head. “No. Only sport I played was baseball.”
Blake didn’t really count that a sport, considering how little physical activity most recreational baseball players got, but he didn’t say that. “Have you worked out recently?”
“It wasn’t really a priority. And when I still lived in DC I barely had time. I went to the gym every now and then, but…” He didn’t finish his sentence, blushing fiercely.
