Page 5

Chapter four

Do You Love Me Yet?

“So you’re definitely done with the boring stuff?” Aaron picked at a buttery croissant on their bistro table the next morning.

Tucked away in the quiet, labyrinthine streets of El Born, the boutique hotel where they’d been staying for the past couple of days of the conference felt like a secret woven into the very fabric of Barcelona. With breakfast served in a cozy, sun-dappled garden courtyard at the back of the building, it was a hidden oasis draped in climbing bougainvillea with vivid pink flowers spilling down the old stone walls. Kenny had chosen it, Aaron suspected, not for its romantic charm, although it was that, but because it was far enough away from where he’d been conferencing and thus, their secret escape.

Even here, a thousand miles from Ryston, he was still Kenny’s dirty little secret.

When Kenny didn’t answer, Aaron peered up, catching him staring at him with that look in his eyes, the one Aaron couldn’t quite read yet. If he had experience in this sort of thing, he’d consider it affection. Fondness. As if Aaron had momentarily distracted him.

“The light caught your hair.” Kenny pointed a finger from around his cup, offering the information he knew Aaron wouldn’t have. “Looked gold at the edges. Quite striking.”

“Okay.” Aaron’s heart thudded hard, but he shook it off with a roll of his eyes and a rip of croissant. “So, boring stuff. Done, yeah?”

Kenny lifted his espresso to his lips. “Considering you’re my student and voluntarily paying to sit in my class, the fact you call what I do ‘boring stuff’ doesn’t bode well for your future career.”

Aaron shoved the end of a crusty croissant into his mouth. “Yeah, but I didn’t pick the course for its content, did I?”

Kenny lowered his cup on its saucer. “What did you pick it for?”

Aaron leaned back, chewing, locking his gaze on Kenny’s. He would know. He should know. The only reason Aaron was at Ryston at all was because of Dr Kenneth Lyons.

Kenny wriggled in his seat as if just realising that himself, then sidestepped the sudden awkwardness by steering the conversation into calmer waters. “So…what are your plans for after you graduate?”

Not calmer waters then. Choppy, hazardous ones.

Aaron shrugged and looked away to a couple being seated at a nearby table, their laughter light and easy. As their conversation probably was. Unlike any of his and Kenny’s.

“You’re on track for a 2:1.” Kenny dipped to get back into his line of sight.

“Yeah. Shocker. Considering all the time I’ve spent under my professor. Should be on for a first.”

Kenny narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you should climb on top of him? See if that works?”

Aaron popped the last bite of his croissant into his mouth. “You saying I just need to top you to push down the grade boundary? Should’ve said. Thought you were a one-trick pony.”

“Stallion. And I meant ride me. But you’re deflecting.”

Aaron sighed. “Sucks being fucked by a psychologist.”

“Final year’s starting in a few weeks,” Kenny pressed, undeterred. “You’ll have your dissertation. It’s the perfect time to tie your thesis to something that could open doors after you finish.”

Aaron swiped the crumbs off his shorts with a little more force than necessary, then dumped some yogurt and fruit into a bowl. Why was Kenny bringing this up now ? He wanted to enjoy breakfast, have a good time here and not think about how in a few weeks, everything went back to shadows and secrets. And in several months, he’d get chucked out of his student accommodation, leaving him to fend for himself. And if he couldn’t, he might end up back in London.

Hundreds of miles from Kenny.

Kenny cocked his head. “You’re avoiding answering.”

Of course, he was avoiding answering. Because he had zero clue what to say.

Aaron stabbed at a piece of melon, spoon sliding off to clatter against the bowl. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’ve at least thought about what you want to do with your—potentially very good—Forensic Psychology degree.”

Aaron scraped up some yogurt, then leaned back and met Kenny’s raised eyebrow with a challenge of his own. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“You could earn a lot of money from guest speaking.”

Aaron blinked. “Guest speaking?”

“Yeah. Motivational speaking. At conferences. Like the one I was just at.” Kenny took a sip of coffee. “There are many people in prominent positions who’d pay to hear how you’ve overcome your past. Your trauma. It’s a survival story.”

Aaron paused his spoon mid-air, the idea landing like a stone in his chest. He didn’t know whether to laugh or throw the spoon at Kenny. “You think I’m a poster boy for survival?”

“No.” Kenny shook his head as if countering what he’d literally just said. “I mean, you’ve got a story to tell and you could control how it’s told. Control the narrative. You’ve seen how others want it. And they could skew it. This is your chance to take something that people might exploit and own it.”

Control the narrative. The words sounded like freedom and a trap all at once. He stared down at his bowl, then looked up at Kenny, watching him with that maddening blend of affection and analysis.

“You want me to make bank on what my parents did to those people?”

Kenny leaned back in his chair, the space between them thickening as the conversation ground to a halt. “That’s… not really how I saw it.”

Aaron nodded, biting his lip. “It’s how I would. And other people.”

Kenny waited a beat. Then, “Fair enough.”

Aaron looked away, tracking the way the breeze stirred the petals of a bougainvillea vine. The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable. It was vast and suffocating, filled with the unspoken things they never quite knew how to navigate. Because there was so much between them. So many jagged pieces that didn’t fit neatly together. Maybe too much.

Aaron’s stomach twisted as a cruel voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth he’d been trying to ignore. That this—whatever this was—was temporary. Fleeting. Stupid. Na?ve. It couldn’t survive reality. He glanced back to Kenny, and he could read all that written across his face, too. So Aaron pressed his spoon into the yogurt, listening to the quiet scrape of porcelain, pretending he didn’t feel the fragile thread between them fraying at the edges.

“You can do and be whatever you want.” Kenny’s voice held conviction, but beneath it, Aaron heard the desperation. The need to hold on. To claw back what was slipping between their fingers like grains of sand.

“Can’t I just be your dirty little secret forever?” The words left his mouth before he realised how vulnerable they were.

Forever . It hung between them like a live wire, crackling, dangerous. Kenny’s flinch was almost imperceptible, but Aaron caught it. Felt it like a knife to the gut. God, he was so inept at this. This messy tangle of want and fear. Of needing too much but never knowing how to ask for any of it.

Kenny’s lips eventually curved into a smile though. Not quite playful, but not quite safe . “As long as it’s filthy in my bed and not the tornado you leave in every other room.”

Aaron swallowed down the ache rattling inside him, masking it with a crooked grin. “Both.” He winked, feigning a confidence he didn’t quite feel.

Kenny held his gaze with dark intent. “Then maybe we can negotiate terms for exactly what I want you doing in my bed.”

Aaron cocked his head. “This you asking me to climb on top again? Thought you preferred bending me in half.”

“Oh, I do.” Kenny’s voice dropped, rich with promise and the heat in his stare pulsed with want, a challenge laid bare between them. “I very much do. Just the way you like it, baby.”

Aaron held his gaze, pulse quickening, torn between sticking to the day’s plan or scrapping it entirely to be folded in half right here, right now.

But a voice sliced through the charged air, shattering the moment.

“Dr Lyons?”

Kenny jerked upright, shoving his chair back. In a heartbeat, he’d gone stiff and formal. So unlike how he’d been here, with him, that Aaron’s stomach lurched.

“Dr Pryce!” His tone was warm, but there was an edge of surprise. Almost discomfort. And he moved awkwardly, caught between formality and something else as he half-offered a handshake, then hesitated as if he wasn’t sure if this was someone he was supposed to hug.

The woman swept that indecision aside with a polished laugh. “Laura, please.” She clasped Kenny’s hand, then patted his arm in a way that felt practiced, a small, expert move to put him at ease.

Aaron folded his arms, scanning over her in one thorough sweep. Tall. Refined. A sort of commanding presence that didn’t appear intimidating so much as completely in control. She wore a cream-coloured linen dress, elegant without being loud, and her glossy chestnut hair coiled in a twist, revealing earrings probably worth more than Aaron’s entire student loan. But the clincher was how she looked at Kenny. As though he was someone she understood all too well.

A bitter spike of jealousy nipped Aaron’s gut.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Kenny said, rubbing the back of his neck. Aaron recognised that tell. He was on edge. And why wouldn’t he be? Bumping into a colleague in the middle of this…thing they were doing.

“I was at the conference.” Laura smiled, tilting her neck as if that should be obvious.

“You were?” Kenny shifted. “I didn’t see you.”

“I stayed in the back. Listened to your keynote—very insightful, by the way. I looked for you afterward, but you’d vanished. Then I heard you were here instead of at the Gran Calderon with everyone else. That surprised me.”

“Ah, well, Aaron and I…” Kenny shot Aaron a helpless glance, and Aaron wasn’t sure whether he was meant to smile, stand, shake the woman’s hand or introduce himself. As what, he also wasn’t sure. His student? Boyfriend ? Fuck buddy? Dirty little secret?

So to play safe, he kept mute.

But Laura’s gaze swept him in. “Oh, my apologies, I’m intruding.” She gave Kenny’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’d love to catch up, though.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“How long are you here for?”

“Leaving tomorrow.”

“In that case, how about coffee this morning? I actually have something important to discuss.”

“Um…” Kenny hesitated.

Aaron rolled his eyes in a grand, unapologetic fashion.

“Can you give us one minute?” Kenny scraped a hand through his hair, the ocean breeze ruffling the few undone buttons on his shirt. Aaron hated how it only made Kenny look more appealing.

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Laura rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a pristine business card. “Call me. I’ll be around.”

When she darted away, Kenny exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath. He tucked the card into his back pocket and sank down again. The silence gnawed at them until Kenny finally met Aaron’s gaze.

“Fuck,” he muttered, no pretence left.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “She important?”

“No more important than I am.”

Aaron dipped a finger into his leftover yogurt, licking it off. “But you’re still gonna ditch me for her.” He peered up, holding Kenny’s gaze. “Aren’t you?”

“I didn’t tell anyone where I was staying.”

“But she found you.” Aaron glanced over to where she was asking the server for a coffee. “Funny that.” He turned back to Kenny. “Who is she?”

“A psychiatrist.”

Aaron barked a laugh so loud he surprised even himself. “No shit.”

“We worked together. Years ago.”

“Fucked her?”

“No.”

“Huh.” Aaron’s feigned indifference barely masked his flicker of annoyance as he glanced back at the woman who looked as though she wanted to crawl inside Kenny’s head. Or bed . “Missed opportunity there for a two for one deal on a session and a screw?”

Kenny fell back in his seat and there was that assessing look Aaron hated. “There’s no reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Aaron lied.

“There’s no romantic history with her. No flirting. No sex. Not even a poorly timed shoulder touch.” He waved a hand, gesturing to Aaron’s stiffness. “You can unbristle.”

Aaron fucking hated how Kenny saw right through him.

So he sulked. “Why she wanna talk to you, then?”

“I’ve no idea.”

Aaron detected there was a story there. Perhaps not the scraping out of insides feeling that she was yet another person Kenny had slotted his dick into, but there was something Kenny was keeping from him. And he wondered, right then, if Kenny would ever be wholeheartedly honest with him about anything. Perhaps that was the whole power imbalance thing he banged on about when they first met. How Kenny would always have more knowledge than he. But if he demanded the truth, he knew how this would end: another round of push and pull, unravelling the fragile balance they’d built. So he didn’t.

Kenny leaned forward, stroking his fingers over Aaron’s on the table. “I won’t meet her. I said I’d spend today with you. So let’s go.”

“You sure?”

“If she wants to talk to me, she can do it in work time.”

Aaron smiled. “Book a time slot, bitch.”

Kenny let out a soft laugh. “Exactly. Now…” He stood, fishing out his wallet and tossing a generous tip onto the table. “You’ve been planning this day for a week. You got that itinerary?”

Aaron shovelled more of the breakfast into his mouth, not wanting to leave a single morsel of the stuff behind.

“You don’t have to eat it all,” Kenny said, watching in amusement.

Aaron snorted, almost spraying crumbs across the table. “You’ve clearly never been denied food as punishment from arsehole foster carers.”

Kenny froze. “No. No, I haven’t.” He then picked up a leftover piece of pastry from his plate and handed it to Aaron. “Eat it. Eat it all.”

Aaron stood. Smiled. Took the offering and threw it into his gob. He then grabbed his phone and waggled it. “No museums. No boring shit. This day is mine .”

“And the evening?”

“That’s down to you. But it better involve you bending me in half.”

“Oh, it will. Don’t worry about that.” Kenny scooted around the table, sliding a hand on the small of Aaron’s back and pressed his lips to his ear. “Got a few other positions up my sleeve, too.”

“That what you do all day at the back of a dull-arse conference? Doodle positions you wanna get me in later on the branded stationery?”

“Of course.”

“Well, all right. But not til after we see the sun set at the Bunkers del Carmel, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

With a spark under his skin, Aaron carried that promise with him for the rest of the day as they drifted through the city’s winding streets, golden light spilling between timeworn stone buildings. He felt the grit of sand between his toes, warm and unexpected, not telling Kenny he’d never set foot on a beach before, as he didn’t want to admit how many firsts he still carried like bruises no one could see. Then by evening, they were perched high above it all at the Bunkers del Carmel, the city stretching out below them.

He’d read about this place. A hidden viewpoint the locals whispered about, where Barcelona sprawled below like a glittering sea. Now, with the city thrumming beneath them, an endless stretch of golden lights and distant echoes of life, Aaron let himself be still.

The world felt hushed. As if they’d crept into some forgotten pocket of time where nothing could reach them. Where no one could find them. Where maybe, just maybe, they could exist outside of everything trying to tear them apart. And as the last sliver of sun melted into the horizon, night folding around them, Aaron threw out what his heart said in beats.

“Do we have to go home?”

Kenny didn’t answer right away. Aaron hadn’t expected him to answer at all.

But then, soft and assuredly, Kenny said, “No.”

Aaron let out a quiet snort, the sound almost lost to the breeze. “Maybe I could play piano in that ballroom bar. And you could run a therapy practice for homesick expats who can’t hack being away from the rain.”

“I’m not trained for that.”

“Fine. You can piss about with Spanish crims instead. I’m sure they’d keep you busy.”

Kenny chuckled, then lifted Aaron’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Nah. I can write books about crims from anywhere.”

Aaron turned to him, searching his face for something. Hope? Truth? Maybe both. “Yeah?”

Kenny held his gaze, unflinching and intense, in that maddening way that chipped a little more at the cracks in his armour. The silence stretched.

Then, finally, Kenny’s voice broke the quiet. “Maybe one day.”

Aaron smiled. It wasn’t a vow. Wasn’t a fantasy.

He didn’t need one.

But the stars above them burned brighter as the city blurred below, and in the stillness, Aaron let himself believe, just for a moment, that maybe they really could belong to each other. For as long as life let them. Which, in his experience, might not be that long.

Because life had a way of catching up with him.

And it never let him keep the good things for long.