He stuffed the letter back in the envelope. No big
deal. One school out of three. He hadn’t really expected
to get in. But a second later, his chest tightened and he
had to fight back tears. No one would want him. He’d be
stuck in this town forever, tossing pizza dough at
Zippy’s, appearing in the occasional community theater
production.
At least he’d have Keaton.
But was that enough? There was more to life than
being in love. What about his own future, his own goals?
He opened his car and threw the letter inside, then
decided to go for a quick walk around the block to clear
his head. There was still a cold anxiety gnawing his
stomach as he returned to the house and found Keaton
putting together a salad.
“Hey,” Keaton said. “How’s your ass?”
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” Aiden
said. “I already slept in this morning.”
“You needed a nap after what we did.”
“You always know best,” Aiden muttered.
“You okay?”
“Perfect. I’m gonna go shower.”
Aiden went upstairs and showered. His butt was
still bright red. He rubbed it, trying to take some comfort
from the pain. His cargo pants had been folded neatly
and placed on the bed, but he ignored them, putting on a
pair of jeans and a nice button-down.
He spent most of dinner angry at himself for not
being in a better mood. It was hard to hold up his end of
the conversation with his mind on Irvine’s rejection and
Scott’s invitation – and the promise that he’d show up at
Keaton’s to pick Aiden up.
“Yoo-hoo. Aiden.”
He looked up.
Hera waved at him. “I was just saying how Rim
Job”—she glanced at Keaton—“sorry, Rima said she
liked my hair.” Hera had buzzed one side of her head
and shaved the initials
FU
into the fuzz. “I thought she’d
freak. Maybe she’s edgier than we gave her credit for. Or
she just doesn’t get it.”
Aiden tried to smile. “Yeah.” He picked at his
shrimp curry. Hera had cooked tonight instead of Kim,
and the quality of the fare was disappointing. But Aiden
had a feeling that even if he had one of Kim’s vegan
dishes in front of him, he wouldn’t have been able to eat.
“Come on, it’s not
that
bad,” Hera said, watching
him.
“It’s fine,” Aiden said. “I’m just not that hungry.”
The conversation continued around him, and Aiden
suddenly wanted to scream. Wasn’t anyone else in this
room confused, lost, or worried? How were they all
blissfully enjoying this silly dinner when the future was
so unstable? You could love somebody and lose them.
You could want something and never get it. You could
work hard and still end up miserable. Who cared about a
new haircut, or shrimp curry, or eating three meals a day
and sleeping eight hours? No matter what precautions
you took, what defenses you put up, what friends you
surrounded yourself with, life would find a way to hurt
you.
He glanced at his phone. Eight o’clock. In another
hour, Scott would pull up in front of Keaton’s house.
“It’s already dead,” Keaton said, watching him stab
a piece of shrimp with his fork. “Just eat it.”
“I don’t want to,” Aiden replied.
“Are you sick?”
“No, I just don’t fucking
want
to! How hard is that
to understand?”
Hera and Sloane looked up. Only Kim continued
eating her salad as though nothing was happening.
Keaton put a discreet hand on Aiden’s back,
rubbing small circles. “I hear you,” he said quietly. “But
we have a rule.”
“I don’t care. I’m a grown-up. I’m a guest here. I
don’t feel like eating, and what the hell are you going to
do about it?”
It felt good to make a scene, at least for a few
seconds. Then shame flared in him, and the anxiety in his
stomach turned to pure dread. Whatever was going on in
his mind, he couldn’t handle it.
Hera nudged Keaton. “We have a spare room if
you need to take him somewhere and beat his ass.”
Sloane laughed.
Aiden fled the table.
He went to the front bathroom and shut himself
inside, locking the door. He took a deep breath, trying to
steady himself.
I need you, Keaton. I don’t want to, but I do. I need you to
help me, even though you don’t know what’s going on.
But right now, Keaton was the problem. His
levelheadedness that made it impossible to do what
Aiden wanted to do—fight. Aiden didn’t need kindness
right now; he didn’t need patience, understanding,
guidance. He needed humiliation, pain. Resistance.
And he knew where he could get that.
* * * *
pushed back his chair. “I apologize,” he said. “I’ll just go
see… ”
“No apology necessary,” Hera said. “Aiden has
always been… passionate.”
“You mean a total drama queen,” Sloane muttered.
Keaton managed a weak smile. “Be back in a few
minutes,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss dessert for the
world.”
He walked out into the foyer and knocked softly on
the door to the bathroom. “Aiden?” No answer. He tried
the knob. Locked. “Aiden. Open up, please.”
“I’m in the bathroom!” Aiden shouted. “Can’t I get
some privacy?”
“Afraid not.” Keaton waited. “You can’t hide in
there all night.”
“Watch me.”
Keaton leaned against the door. “You’re not being
very polite.”
“Neither are you.”
Keaton went back to the kitchen. “Do you have a
key to the bathroom?” he asked Hera quietly.
“Sure.” She went into the hall and returned with a
key, then made herself scarce. Keaton unlocked the
bathroom door. He started to open it, but Aiden pushed
it shut from the other side. It was no contest; Keaton was
larger and stronger, and he forced his way in. Aiden
retreated to the corner and huddled by the shower,
eyeing Keaton warily.
Keaton shut the door behind him. “What’s all this
about?”
“Why does it always have to be ‘about’ something?
Why can’t I just be in a bad mood without you picking
apart my brain trying to figure out what’s wrong?”
“Because I’m in charge, and it’s my job to pick apart
your brain. Now tell me what’s going on.”
Aiden scowled. “Now you want to talk.”
Keaton waited, confused.
“You want to talk about how I’m fucking up. You
want to talk about what I’m doing wrong. But you don’t
ever want to talk about what’s important.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“No. Why would it matter to you what happens if I
go off to school somewhere, or you get a job somewhere
else? I must be the only one stupid enough to worry
about that.”
“Ah,” Keaton said, something clicking.
“Ah?
You
think
you
fucking
understand
everything?”
Aiden was as furious as Keaton had ever seen him.
If they’d been at home, Keaton would have let the boy
shout himself out. But they were guests, and it seemed
wrong to be having this discussion in their hosts’
bathroom.
“I think I understand,” Keaton said. “But I don’t
think this is the time or the place to talk about it.”
“When are we going to talk about it?” Aiden
demanded. “Ever since we said we loved each other, I
haven’t heard anything from you about what that means.
How long we’ll stay together. You tricked me into
needing you, and now I’m this fucking codependent
wimp… ”
His brat was spiraling. Keaton needed to put the
brakes on this fast, get Aiden through dessert, and then
they could talk things over at home. Keaton put out his
hand. “You’re not. Come on, let’s go have dessert. Enjoy
the rest of our night. We’ll talk later.”
“Fuck you,” Aiden said quietly.
“You’re not going to goad me into spanking you
here, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Why not? Hera offered the spare room.” Aiden’s
eyes were dark with fury, his face bright red.
“Last warning. I won’t spank you here, but I’ll sure
as hell load you into the car, take you home, and make
sure you don’t sit down until next month.”
“That solves everything, doesn’t it?” Aiden wiped
his eyes. “Is this what our life’s gonna be like if we do
stay together? Our friends offering you their spare rooms
so you can punish me when I’m bad? Laughing behind
my back? I’m not a brat. I have my own ideas and
feelings and things I want. They might not always be
right, but they’re
mine
.”
Keaton was a little shocked. He truly hadn’t known
Aiden felt this way. He thought their relationship had
been going well, the discipline providing Aiden with
much-needed guidance. “I have never, nor will I ever
expect you to put aside your feelings or desires to please
me. We make choices together about behaviors you want
to change—things that will benefit you, your health, or
our relationship. I enforce the rules we decide on. That’s
it.”
Aiden’s body was tense, trembling with emotion. “I
don’t know. The discipline thing worked at first—it
really did. I was out of control, and I needed help. But
now I feel like I have my life back on track, and I don’t
know if I want to do it anymore. I like being submissive,
but I’m an adult. I don’t want to get spanked when I do
something you think is wrong.”
Keaton nodded. “Then we need to decide whether
the discipline relationship is something we want to
continue.”
“You think it’s that simple?” Aiden demanded.
“I know it’s that simple.”
“It’s not! This is what you fucking want—it’s what
you need!”
“I want you. I need you. I don’t care if we have a
discipline relationship or not.”
“Don’t fucking lie, Keaton.”
“I wouldn’t.”
Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “How many partners have
you had?”
“Why does that matter?”
“A lot?”
“Play partners? Or lovers?”
“Both,” Aiden said.
“Quite a few.”
Aiden nodded, stroking the shower curtain as
though it might offer him some comfort. “Because you
were looking for someone you could have this with,
right? That’s what you’ve been looking for your whole
life. And now you have it—or you thought you had it.
Why would you keep me if I can’t give you what you
want?”
“Because you can. You already do.”
“And what if I go away to school? Or move
somewhere else?”
“We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
“Jesus. Does anything ever freak you out? Do you
ever
worry about
anything
?”
“I worry that the women will eat all the dessert if
we don’t get back in there.”
“I’m serious!”
“I’m sorry. I just think this is a conversation we
should have later, at home.” Keaton had the unsettling
sense that he was handling this situation all wrong, but
he didn’t know what else to do. His suspicions were
confirmed when Aiden didn’t come to him but remained
in his corner.
“Can you just go?” Aiden asked. “Can I be alone
here for a little while? Please?”
“Are you sure?” Keaton hated the idea of leaving
him. Hated that he’d failed to make things better.
“Yes. Just a few minutes. Please.”
“All right. I’m here if you need me.”
“I know.” He offered Keaton a slight nod that was
at least somewhat comforting.
The boy did trust Keaton, did know he could come
to him. He was choosing not to, for reasons Keaton didn’t
quite understand.
Keaton returned to the kitchen.
“You get things sorted out?” Hera asked.
“He just needs a few minutes alone.” Keaton was
surprised to hear anger in his own voice. “Can I help
with anything?”
“Kim’s getting ready to serve dessert.”
“Vegan pralines,” Kim said, putting the tray and a
small bowl on the table, “with chocolate dipping sauce.”
“Wow,” Keaton said. “These look amazing.” They
did look amazing, but Keaton was suddenly disgusted
by his own words. This was his job, wasn’t it? To
compliment, encourage, reassure? To always know what
to say?
“Every dessert she makes is amazing,” Hera said.
“You’d never know her stuff’s vegan.”