Page 13 of Kiss Me Honey Honey (To Love a Psycho #2)

chapter twelv e

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For the next few days, Aaron disappeared into himself.

It wasn’t just avoidance. It was survival. His coping mechanism was a well-worn path. Hide long enough, wait for the storm to pass, and then reemerge, stronger, or at least pretending to be. That’s what life had taught him. No one gave a fuck about his tears, his drama, his tragedy. Why let them see it?

Maybe it was those years locked in a cupboard while his parents went out to rape and murder, leaving him in the dark, with only the muffled sounds from old classic songs on his mother’s jukebox to keep him company. Or maybe it was the years after, sent to his room without food or water, punished for crimes he didn’t commit—only for existing, for sharing blood with monsters. Maybe it was being a teenager in a children’s home, one broken kid among many, drowning in confusion until he turned eighteen, then shoved out into the world, unprepared and unprotected. Whatever the cause, it always came back to this: when life became unbearable, he shut down. Turned inward. Cocooned himself in silence. In isolation.

And now, here he was again. Shutting everyone out because of Dr Kenneth Lyons .

Taking that key had been a mistake. He’d known it would be the moment he pocketed it. Walking into Kenny’s home and seeing him with Heather , cosy on the sofa like a picture-perfect couple, her hand on his knee, had been a dagger to his chest. The image seared into his mind, heart twisting, stomach hollowing out. That was why Kenny hadn’t taken his lecture on Monday. Why he hadn’t replied properly to Aaron’s texts. Because he was going back to her .

The rejection sat like a boulder on his chest, immovable, suffocating. He didn’t even have Taylor anymore to distract him, to drown the ache in meaningless sex. And who else could he tell? No one. There was no one. He had to bottle it up, like every other wound life had given him, and let it fester until he could bury it deep enough to face the world again.

By Wednesday, though, he had no choice but to resurface. His shift at the campus shop forced him out of his self-imposed hybernation. Another perk of his bursary for being a care leaver—a guaranteed interview for on-campus jobs. The shop had been convenient enough. Walking distance, low pressure. Most of the time, his manager disappeared into the back office, leaving Aaron to man the counter alone. It suited him fine. The quiet. The monotony. Was better than facing his classmates or the faculty.

He clocked in, setting himself up behind the counter. The shop was one of those all-in-one student havens. Snacks, groceries, Ryston-branded hoodies, and overpriced chargers. Everything a student needed but was too lazy to walk to the Tesco Extra a mile away and stock up way cheaper. Aaron hunched over the counter, scrolling through his phone during a lull.

Missed calls. Messages. All from Kenny.

They were mundane, polite. Call me when you can. I need to talk to you. Nothing dramatic, nothing begging for forgiveness, but that made it worse. The lack of emotion. Carefully chosen words. It all screamed, let’s draw the line again. Aaron didn’t need to hear it. He knew how this ended. Rejection was just the next step.

“Are you serving?”

A girl placed a meal deal on the counter, so Aaron tossed his phone down and scanned her items, forcing himself into autopilot. The queue behind her grew, and for a while, he let the rhythm of customer after customer numb him. Hand over the goods, take the payment, mutter a half-hearted cheers . It was better than thinking about Kenny. About Heather. About himself.

When the last customer left, he rested back against the counter partition, pulling out his phone again. He should do what his social workers, what Jervine his case officer, and all those many, many therapists had told him to do. Get away from anything that had a link to his parentage. He searched for universities offering Forensic Psychology, thinking maybe a transfer would be in order. He’d qualify for one. Had the grades. No doubt Ryston would love to see the back of him. Where could he go? Somewhere far away. Somewhere where no one knew the Howell name. Or maybe he’d ditch psychology altogether. Marine Biology sounded peaceful. No murders, no mental anguish, just dolphins and coral reefs.

“So the phone works?”

Aaron froze. The voice was unmistakable. Low, smooth, tinged with irritation and something heavier. He looked up, and there he was. Kenny .

Stood on the other side of the counter, his presence filled the small space. He wasn’t in his usual lecture attire. No suit today. Instead, he wore a dark jacket over a plain shirt, chinos, with his hair slightly tousled, as though he’d run his hands through it too many times. And he had his glasses on, eyes sharp behind the lenses.

Aaron’s stomach twisted. The casual look, the mess of his hair, made Kenny seem more human. And far more dangerous to Aaron’s already fragile defences.

“Did you want some fags?” Aaron jerked his head toward the hidden tobacco shelf.

“They’ll kill you.”

Aaron snorted. “No, they won’t. You already know what will.”

“ Aaron …”

“Did you actually need something?” Aaron cut him off, laced with false bravado. “We’re out of Crème Eggs. They don’t come in until January. And a bunch of ravenous students are going to pile in any second, and I wouldn’t wanna be the one standing between them and their Ginsters .”

Kenny leaned forward, voice dropping, soft but commanding. “Then pick up your fucking phone and talk to me.”

Aaron forced his face into a sneer. “What’s there to talk about? I finished the latest assignment. Handed it in. Even showed up to the lectures you skipped. Surely, I’m not on anyone’s shit list yet, am I?”

“The library staff?”

Aaron froze for a second too long before shrugging. “You heard about that?”

“Yes, Aaron. I hear most things.”

Aaron opened his mouth, ready to fire back something sharp and cutting, but the doors whooshed open, sending in a cool draught from outside along with a bunch of lads. Among them was Max. Their eyes met over the aisle, and Aaron’s stomach sank like a stone. Max’s smirk was unmistakable, a wolfish grin meant to taunt, to remind Aaron he wasn’t in control.

Bollocks .

Kenny glanced over his shoulder, catching the tail end of Max’s swagger before the group disappeared among the shelves. Kenny turned back, arching an eyebrow .

“Who’s that?” Kenny angled his head to Max eyeing him over the shelves of produce.

“A bellend.”

“You know a lot of them.”

Aaron narrowed his stare back at Max. “Tell me about it.”

“Can we talk?”

“Not unless you want Ryston’s finest listening in. There’ll be a queue any second.”

“Later?”

“I’m busy later.”

Kenny exhaled, full of frustration. Then, without a word, he reached for a random chocolate bar from the front display and placed it on the counter. Aaron snatched it up, scanned it, and held it out, forcing himself to stay steady. But when Kenny’s fingers grazed his, a jolt shot up Aaron’s arm—too warm, too real.

Kenny didn’t let go right away. “Call. Me.”

Aaron yanked his hand back, the shock of the touch too much to bear. For a moment, the air between them hung heavy, charged with everything they weren’t saying. Then the moment broke as the lads burst out laughing from somewhere in the shop, shattering the quiet.

Kenny stepped back, his jaw tight, frustration visible in every line of his body. He left the chocolate bar on the counter, untouched, and turned toward the door.

Aaron curled his fingers around the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cheap laminate as he stared at the spot where Kenny had just stood. The lingering burn of his touch still seared into his skin, as if it had left an invisible mark. He didn’t call after him. Couldn’t. Not with Max’s watchful eyes tracking his every move from the snack aisle. Not with the tension in his chest threatening to shatter him if he moved too quickly.

When the shop door swung shut behind Kenny, the sound reverberated through Aaron like a slammed gate, locking him inside his own turmoil. The urge to run after him clawed at his ribs, but before he could even consider it, Max appeared at the counter, his swagger like nails on a chalkboard.

“All right, Aaron?” Max’s voice was far too chipper, a smirk plastered across his face like a mask.

Aaron forced his expression blank, folding his arms. “Max.”

“How’s things?” Max tapped his fingers restlessly on the counter, darting his gaze to his mates milling around in the snack aisle.

“Good,” Aaron replied flatly, tone a barricade.

Max’s smirk widened. “Heard about you and Taylor.”

“Yeah. Okay. Do you want something?”

Max didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he drifted his gaze over Aaron, laden with suggestion, the kind of look that crawled under Aaron’s skin and set his teeth on edge.

“From the shop,” Aaron snapped.

Max laughed, low and mocking. “Thought it was all for sale.”

“It is. For the right price. And you can’t afford it.”

“Ooo, brutal.” Max feigned his wounded pride, but his smirk didn’t waver. “No need to be so touchy. I was just offering my condolences. You and Taylor were a good pair. Both fit. Quite hoped I’d get to see a homemade video one day.”

“Guess you’ll just have to stick to PornHub. What’s your search term? ‘Unconscious but takes my micro penis so good’?”

Max’s smirk faltered, expression alternating between amusement and irritation. He recovered quickly, though, letting out a snort more forced than natural. “Taylor said something about that. Look, mate, we don’t do that sorta shit. Why would we? We’re three hot lads. We’ve got enough offers without resorting to spiking someone’s drink.”

“Do you?” Aaron’s tone was ice. “Because I remember you implying you hadn’t had me and quite liked the idea, to which I told you to go fuck yourself. ”

Max’s laugh was sharp that time, more bark than humour. “Look, you had a lot to drink that night. Maybe it was just that. Or, if you think there was something extra in there, I can go wrangle the lot who came and find out who the fuck did it. Because it sure as hell wasn’t me. Nor George. And it wouldn’t have been Taylor. He’s a good bloke. You’ll find it hard to do better than him.”

Aaron didn’t waver. “I’ll manage.”

Max held his nerve, but there was an undercurrent of fear beneath his bravado. His smile too stiff, movements too controlled. He thought Aaron might actually go to someone, might report what happened. And even if there was no evidence left, the sheer spectre of an investigation would be enough to tarnish Max’s reputation and jeopardise his final year.

Aaron could do it. He should do it. But he wouldn’t. What good would it do him? It wouldn’t change what happened. It wouldn’t fix anything.

“Anything else?” Aaron asked, voice sharp, signalling the conversation was over.

Max hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shrugged and stepped back and as he turned to leave, someone else stepped up to the counter, causing Max to pause.

“No hard feelings, eh?” Max extended his hand toward Aaron, tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Been told it’s not a good idea to get on the wrong side of Aaron Jones .”

Aaron stared at Max’s hand, his fingers twitching with the urge to ignore it. But there was no point in escalating things. Not with so much already hanging over him. Maybe if he called a truce, Taylor would forget the whole Kenny thing, too. So he forced himself to take it, giving a quick, curt shake.

Max grinned, smug and triumphant, before stepping aside for the next customer who dumped a handful of lip balms, at least ten tubes, onto the counter without a word. It took Aaron a second too long to grab the first tube and scan it because of the strange way the man was looking at him. That, along with his weird lips. No wonder he needed all this salve. They looked cracked and sore. Bloke came in here most Wednesdays. Buying the same thing. In bulk. Cheap lip slave obviously didn’t last that long. False economy.

Aaron handed back a plastic bag packed with the lip balms. “Ten quid, mate. Cash or card?”

The bloke pulled a crumpled tenner from his pocket, holding it a moment too long before finally letting it go.

Aaron yanked the money free from his grip. “Weirdo,” he muttered once the man disappeared out the door.

Aaron couldn’t exactly talk. So he didn’t.

Instead, he fished out his phone, scrolling mindlessly through pages of glossy university brochures.

* * * *

By Friday, Kenny still hadn’t heard from Aaron.

He’d done everything to catch him that would feel natural, rather than barging into his Halls of Residence and demanding he talk to him. He’d even stood outside the gym where he knew the Pole Dancing Society held their sessions and he hadn’t been there. Kenny was becoming more worried as the days went passed. He knew his tempestuous nature. And having heard what had happened in the library from his pastoral tutor, he suspected Aaron was spiralling or preventing himself from doing so by closing himself off. Shutting down. Without his counselling sessions, Aaron had no outlet. He was a ticking time bomb.

So come Friday, he planned to accost him after his lecture and demand they go somewhere to talk everything through. And as he stalked into the lecture hall buzzing with the usual energy of returning students, the hum of conversation ebbing and flowing until Kenny stood at the front, he scanned the room, habitually seeking a particular blond head. Aaron’s usual seat, back row, remained empty though. Kenny frowned, but forced himself to focus on the task at hand and get through the hour.

By the time he wrapped up the lecture and fielded the last of the students’ questions, his mind was already elsewhere and, as the class dispersed, Kenny’s sharp eyes caught Melanie lingering at the back, laptop tucked under her arm.

“Melanie?” he called up to her before she could depart.

“Yes, Dr Lyons?”

“Can I see you for a minute?” He motioned for her to come to the front. She hesitated but eventually approached, her chunky boots clunking down the steps.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Kenny perched on the edge of the desk. “No, no. I just wondered if you’d seen Aaron? I understand the two of you are friends…” God, did he sound as ridiculous as he thought he did? As obvious ?

Mel’s expression shifted, brow furrowing slightly. “He’s not been feeling great.”

Kenny folded his arms. “How so?”

She shifted, glancing at the students filing out behind her before lowering her voice. “Um…just, not well, y’know?”

“It’s okay. You’re not getting him into trouble. It’s just he’s top tier in this class and I want to make sure he’s not falling behind.”

“Oh, I can take the notes to him.”

“Yes, thank you. That would be great.” He rubbed his forehead. “Is it viral? Does he need to see a doctor?” Oh, for absolute fuck’s sake. Really? A doctor? The second the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a brick. What doctor does he need? Me?

Yes, fucking me!

Mel bit her lip, the piercing grazing her teeth. “To be honest, he’s…getting over a heartbreak.”

Kenny’s stomach lurched. “Oh. ”

“Yeah. He and his boyfriend broke up. Looks like it hit him harder than I thought it would. Honestly thought he didn’t give a shit about him.” Mel threw a hand up to her mouth with a gasp. “Sorry for swearing.”

“It’s okay.” Kenny inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to remain composed. “Any idea when he might be up to coming back to class?”

“I think he just needs a bit of time. He does this sometimes. Sorta goes in on himself.”

Kenny nodded, He knew that more than anyone, though unease prickled him. “Thank you, Melanie. I’ll reach out to him.”

“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“Of course not.”

She smiled, clutching her laptop tighter, then disappeared out of the lecture hall. Kenny stood there for a moment longer, letting the space settle around him, before making his way back to his office .

Once there, Kenny logged into the university system and searched for Aaron’s profile. He had no choice but to use what he had in his arsenal to pull Aaron out of himself, and he noted the missed lectures and seminars, and, sighing, drafted a formal appointment request through the system, the message curt but professional.

Subject: Attendance Concerns Dear Aaron, I’ve noticed your recent absences from lectures and seminars. Please schedule a meeting with me at your earliest convenience to discuss your academic progress and any support you might need. Kind regards, Dr Kenneth Lyon s

Satisfied, he hit send, though it left a bitter taste in his mouth to handle Aaron like that. But boundaries had to exist somewhere, even if they felt impossible to enforce.

If Aaron wanted to put the walls back up, then he had to let him.