Page 12 of The Intimacy of Skin

I turned my computer off with a fake smile plastered on my face and popped some gum into my mouth.

It’s the old, nostalgic shit that I used to get as a kid with the bright yellow paper and a taste that faded in five seconds flat.

“Let’s hop to it. The cooks will be in soon to prep, so I’m going to show you how to look over the inventory real quick.

Starting tomorrow, you should probably wear shoes with a better grip. ”

Clipboard in hand, I led Crew through our fresh foods and spices. He seemed to do well with numbers or at least liked them enough to seem engaged. On our way to the walk-in, I noticed the stations slowly being filled with cooks.

Layla looked up from her cutting board, squinting at Crew.

I threw her my best intimidating glare, taking pride in how quickly she looked back down.

Callum, however, was never taught that staring was rude.

He paused his work and flashed a huge, gleaming smile our way.

“Who’s that?” He stupidly pointed with the tip of his knife, something he knew never to do.

“If you don’t wise up, he’ll be your replacement,” I quipped smoothly. Callum had always been fun to fuck around with, and he knew it was in good fun. Hopefully.

Per usual, he only smiled wider. “’Sup. I’m Callum. I’d shake your hand if I wasn’t covered in meat juice.”

Crew’s lips curled upwards. “Thanks for not doing that, I guess.”

I laughed a bit at his expense before straightening up. “Layla, Callum, this is Crew. He’s helping me out around the place. He won’t be serving or cooking, though I meant what I said. Fuck around enough, he just might suddenly be qualified enough to take your place. ”

“I’m getting better, I promise,” Callum whined.

He was one hell of a mess and got on every last one of my nerves.

At least he was trying. I messed with him a lot.

He was young, inexperienced, and one of the clumsiest people I had the pleasure of knowing.

To me, he looked twelve. He struck some sort of brotherly nerve within me despite never having a brother of my own.

Callum was barely twenty-one and had admitted time and time again that he didn’t know what he was doing in life.

The passion he had for cooking reminded me much of myself, though his talent lacked greatly.

I was still mildly upset with Layla. She pressed her lips together, trying to pass it off as a smile before saying a quick hello.

The only saving grace she had from receiving another one of my glares was the door swinging open to the newest member of our team. “Tobias, right on time.”

Tobias paused in the doorway, his eyes wide as he looked around the room.

Poor guy always looked slightly terrified.

This time, he looked downright petrified as he looked at Crew.

The color drained from his face, leaving a ghostly-white complexion.

His glasses fell down his nose an inch, but he didn’t move to fix them.

He stood there, his tall and lanky frame frozen in time.

“Uh, this is Crew.” I gestured between them vaguely. “I was just introducing him to the team. He’s not going to be working directly with you guys, but you’ll see him around pretty often.” Were his cheeks turning green? “Tobias is a master on the grill. But let’s keep going, shall we?”

Hoping our absence would somewhat diffuse the awkwardness, I brought Crew to the walk-in. I waited for the door to close before turning towards him, whispering, “Is he one of your clients or something?”

Crew shivered, most likely not used to the air. He looked to the side, scrunching his nose. “Wow, you really haven’t heard of me, have you?”

“I’ll pretend your disbelief isn’t an insult.”

His eyes rolled, a move he seemed to use often. “What am I supposed to think? I can’t be the only hooker you’ve picked up. At least ninety percent of the men I fuck know each other by association.”

“If you truly thought I was a part of that ninety percent, then why did you agree to the job?” Crew looked away again, a gorgeous red blush rising on his cheeks.

The color reminded me of ripe strawberries, juicy and ready for picking.

“And don’t say because of Willow. You could’ve told her I was a client and she never would’ve pushed you. ”

There we go. His shoulders bunched together, and his chest puffed out slightly. “I haven’t agreed to shit yet but whatever. The point is, you don’t fit my reputation, and Tobias sure as hell doesn’t either.”

My clipboard clanked against a metal rack.

The cold was slowly seeping into my bones, the chill on the metal piercing through my clothes.

I tried to push it away, keep from shivering as I encouraged Crew to continue.

“Oh? Do tell me, Mr. Hayes, what is your reputation?” I never acted like this around anyone else, and I knew that.

If I did, it was fake. With Crew, it wasn’t fake.

Not in the slightest, and that fucked me up more than I cared to admit.

His arms crossed over his chest, and he looked straight into my eyes. I watched him transform before me, much like I did for work every day. His posture and tone changed, an air of false confidence swimming around him. When I looked into his eyes, though, I could see him.

The real him. The act he put on was just that—an act created to hide and maybe protect himself. Crew could smart off and brag all he wanted, and just like I thought before, his eyes would expose him every time. Beneath the freezing ocean, there was a prison cell. A cage wrapped with locks.

A scared, kind man hid behind the bars Crew had built for himself. I was infatuated with the man in there. I wanted to be there with him, planning his escape.

Then he spoke. “I’m the slutty little twink who only messes with big, macho men with a penchant for slapping boys around.

Fuck, I love me a DILF that’ll tear me in two.

” It wasn’t him. Crew wasn’t speaking. It was the clients talking, repeating what he’d heard and what they forced him to believe.

“The bigger the hands, the better. I don’t want it if you can’t leave a mark.

I like ’em twice my age, a nice little mustache and reeking of cigarettes. ”

He faltered. If only for a moment, getting lost in something I couldn’t see. A twitch began below his eye, the same side that had a scar in the eyebrow above it. His hands pulled into fists, clenching and shaking. He blinked, looking into my eyes once more.

Crew was lying .

Not just to me.

But to himself. And I could see how much it broke his heart, even if he’d brainwashed himself not to feel it.

“I got a thing for cigarette smoke.” His voice wavered, less confident than before. “Specifically, them big ol’ cigars that sell for cheap at the shitty tobacco store. They smell horrendous. I fuckin’ love it.”

I nodded, pretending I understood even if I didn’t. “Mm-hmm, sure. So you’d never sleep with someone like Tobias?”

“Nah, never seen him before. I saw it, though.” He fell against the wall, bumping into the racks behind him.

His chest deflated, and his arms came down to his sides, the chill I saw earlier starting to spread into goosebumps.

“The way he looked at me, I mean. Maybe he’s seen me around? Heard about me from somewhere?”

I tilted my head, trying to figure it out. “He doesn’t seem the type. He’s been with us for three months, and he still has trouble talking to the other cooks.” Reminded me of my younger self, honestly.

“You’d be surprised, Prince Charming. You don’t look the type either, but I’m sure I wasn’t your first. Right?”

No point in lying to him. “No, you weren’t. I’ve been paying for sex for a few years now. Not very often, but often enough.” I tapped the clipboard in my hand, giving my fingers something to do while I tried to raise as much confidence as I could to ask my next question. “What’s your type?”

“Huh?”

I smirked at his surprise. “You told me what your reputation is. I don’t fit your usual clientele. You like me enough, though.”

He shook his head quickly, holding a hand up, palm facing me. “My reputation is my type. I go after what I like.”

I pushed off the rack behind me, taking a step towards him. “I don’t think that’s the complete truth. You like me, don’t you?”

“No.” It was barely a breath. Hardly a whisper loud enough over the hum of the walk-in. He froze in place, his arctic eyes wide as he looked at me.

Inching closer, I lowered my voice to match his. “I think you’re lying, Crew.” Hypocritical, coming from me. “What’s your type? What kind of person immediately gets you going?” Step. “You seem to like my tattoos.” Step. “Taller? Shorter? Come on, Pretty Boy. ”

I was right in front of him. He never looked away, maintaining eye contact with a ferocity that fed the fire in my gut. The Crew from before was gone. I’d caught him off guard, as he always seemed to do to me. “Are you afraid, Crew? Scared that I’ll know just how much you want me if you answer?”

There was a quiet, choked groan from the back of his throat. It echoed, following him as he stepped further back.

I took a final step, looming over him. His bangs shifted as he lifted his head, looking up at me.

A storm brewed in his eyes, muddying the beautiful blue ocean that lived there.

The longer strands of his hair swept past his shoulders, creating a cascade that reminded me of the faucet in my kitchen back home.

Whenever I cooked in the late evening, the sunset would peer through my window and shade the water a golden color.

For some reason, I never learned my lesson, so when I looked up, I’d be blinded by the sudden ray of light in my window. I’d always curse its existence. My hands would falter, and I’d splash golden-tinted water everywhere.

If only it were the shade of Crew’s hair. I had planned on investing in better blinds, specifically for that reason. Now, I think I’ll tear down the ones I currently have.

Crew’s breathing picked up. I could feel his breath against my skin. His lips parted slightly, the cracks in them only enticing me further. I didn’t get to kiss him the other night, and I wanted to so badly, it hurt. Instead, I pushed him more. I wanted a reaction. Or an ounce of unfiltered truth.

I wanted him to feel the drastic change he made in me, just by being around me.

I needed him to feel something similar. I wanted to understand him.

“Do you even like those men? Or do you just know what they’ll give you, so you say you do?

” I dipped my head, allowing him to feel my breath as I could his.

Maybe if he felt how warm it was, he’d remember the blaze that ignited when our skin touched.

I want to feel my skin on his. The restlessness in my bones demanded it.

Crew took a deep, shuddering breath, and I wondered for a moment if he was finally going to agree with me.

I wondered if he’d admit to it. Our connection, or whatever it was that had me so infatuated.

But his inhale stopped, his eyes widened further as his pupils expanded until I couldn’t see blue anymore.

“Crew?”

“Get away.” His tone was more of a bark than anything, a whimper sounding towards the end.

I took a step back, giving him space. His chest began to rise and fall with quick, heaving breaths as he looked around the walk-in. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He looked at me, a pool of unshed tears swimming in his eyes. They sparkled, even in the low lighting. Ice glazed over them. “Don’t follow me.”

Déjà vu of the other night flashed in my mind, immediately gearing my body up to chase him. “Where are you going?”

Turning his back towards me, I could see his shoulder blades ripple beneath his jacket. He shook his head, hand on the handle of the door. “Don’t fucking follow me, Price.” My name cracked on his voice.

Did I push too far? “Crew, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but?—”

“Shut the fuck up!” A slump shaped his form as he leaned against the door. Something much quieter, much closer to broken than before, echoed. “I need a minute. I’ll be back. Don’t fuckin’ follow me, Price. I mean it.”

The clipboard fell to my side, more than forgotten. With it, my confidence cracked against the floor. Crew had a way of reminding me that nothing was permanent. The things I wanted, the things I could achieve, and the way my soul demanded I fight for them were too much.

My body shook as a shiver raced down my spine, reminding me I had spent far too long in the cold. I couldn’t get my feet to move. I was stuck in a repeat of the night at the hotel.

Watching Crew walk away from me, my name no more than a curse on his lips, had me stuck in a cycle I was all too familiar with.

The ever-present buzzing underneath my skin became violent, an itchy fire rising along the way, begging for the cool touch of someone else’s palm.

For however long I had been alone, my need grew tenfold.

And I knew only Crew would be able to make it stop.