Page 16 of The Intimacy of Skin

Crew rolled his eyes. “Sure, let me just pry Brandt away from his and risk getting yelled at. Or, better yet, interrupt your stewing and risk getting flirted with. Amazing options, Prince Charming.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him. When we locked gazes, I refused to look away.

I knew his eyes would tell me everything I needed to know.

The shocking blue was muddied, looking similar to when I’d cornered him, and he’d turned his back on me.

A storm brewed within them. I leaned forward, staring straight into the depths of what I knew to be his soul.

Metal glinted off the prison cell. Crew kept locked up tight.

What are you hiding, Crew?

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hear my thoughts; let alone answer them. When Crew was near, my soul stopped raging against me. The incessant itching lowered to a manageable ache. One day, I’d slide my palm along his body and bask in the relief I knew it’d give me .

“I’m sorry that my mood has disrupted your work, Pretty Boy. You can use my computer and printer any time you need to.” I settled back in my chair.

A slight chuckle came out of his mouth faster than I could finish my sentence, like he didn’t believe me. “Yeah, all right. But if y’all get into it over that, I’m putting all the blame on you.”

“Where are you from?”

He paused for a few moments, probably catching up to the topic change. “What do you mean?”

“You aren’t from here. You say ‘y’all’ and pronounce pecan like puh-con , and you already have a slight accent, but when you’re all cute and angry, it really shines through.”

I watched as he puffed his chest a little. Crew was adorable when he got defensive. “You’re right. I’m not from here. I’m from Arkansas.”

“Whoa.” I set down the pen I’d been playing with, needing all my focus on him. “That’s a ways away. How did you end up in Crescent Planes?”

Finally, I was graced with a laugh. It sounded genuine, which I didn’t hear often.

“Willow and I are from a super small town. A total population of six hundred—no more, no less. There wasn’t much room to dream back there.

The biggest town within a hundred miles of us was Tiger Falls, which was more of a tourist town than anything, if you could even call it that.

Wasn’t worth going to except for the little camp there. ”

His mouth tilted down in a frown, his eyes taking on that same cloudy look before shaking his head and continuing. “New York became our dream.” A shrug of his stiff shoulders. “We didn’t know what we were gonna do, but right after graduation, we left and never looked back.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes.” He seemed to think about it for a moment. “I miss the country. Arkansas is the natural state, you know. It was gorgeous, and there was always a hidden creek to hang out at or a breathtaking hiking trail to get lost on.”

When he smiled, I stopped trying to imagine what it looked like. I didn’t need to paint an image of beauty in my mind when one was sitting right in front of me .

A few strands of hair swooped near his eyes when he looked down. I watched him slowly withdraw from the conversation, folding his shoulders close again. “I guess you’ve always lived here?”

“In New York, yes. I moved to Crescent Planes when I was nineteen.” When I realized I had lost Mom, too. No matter how much I begged her, she didn’t even show up at my graduation.

Crew peered up behind his eyelashes. The side of his mouth was pulled tight into a smirk any smart-ass would be proud of. “You definitely look the type.”

The hint of sass and attitude in his tone was enough to have me asking for more. I fucking loved when Crew got snarky with me. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“City boy, emo Prince Charming.” He waved a hand in my direction, motioning it up and down.

“You probably go to a nice barbershop where they charge a hundred bucks to do little more than wash your hair. I bet the lotion you use costs a pretty penny, too. Do you have more than one? Maybe a lotion specifically for all those tats you’ve got, another for your hands. ”

I threw my head back, lost in laughter. “Okay, you’re one for three so far. I do have more than one lotion. Is that such a crime, though?”

Putting a hand over his heart, Crew looked at me, his face scrunched. “Do you have more than two?”

I looked to the side, deciding no answer was the best answer.

“You do!” He gasped dramatically. In a stage whisper, he leaned forward enough to hide his words from the invisible audience around us. “You’re a city gay. You’ve got a whole bottle dedicated to your legs and feet, huh?”

All right, he was quickly going from funny to scarily accurate. “City bisexual,” I corrected him. “But that’s not the point. What does a country gay like yourself do?”

Crew slumped back in his chair. He ran a hand through the top of his thick hair, slicking his palm down the longer back.

“I use Willow’s moisturizer when I’m in dire need, which is rare, and I do my hair myself.

Though I never claimed to be good at it.

I should probably see a professional, but I’m not sure many would like to work around shitty box dye and an even shittier bleach job. ”

“I like the style you have going on. Personally, I haven’t seen too many guys that can pull off the mullet type like you.”

“I wasn’t going for a mullet initially. Guess that’s what it’s turned into, though.”

“Intentional or not, I like it. You’ve got such a nice face, Pretty Boy. This accentuates that.”

Flicking his eyes to the floor, he merely grunted in response.

My fingers twitched to reach for the gum I’d usually have in my desk organizer. Honestly, I missed that bit of routine. Something ultra shitty to chew on while my life focused on perfect, bold flavors. It wasn’t worth upsetting Crew, though. “Why the blond?”

There went his eyes again, showing me every emotion he kept hidden. Hesitance? Fear? Shame? I hadn’t gotten the chance to stare into his eyes long enough to differentiate them. “Supposed to make me look younger.”

The answer was so far from what I was expecting that I was essentially speechless.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to respond, Crew tried to explain.

“Plus, the Johns have a thing for blonds. I’m getting older, Price.

It’s fucked up, but when I was younger, I had a much easier time finding the type of clients I wanted.

I’m not trying to look like I just graduated from high school or anything.

The job I have takes a toll on my body.” He wriggled in his seat and tapped his pointer finger against the side of his thumb, all while refusing eye contact with me.

“Okay, this sounds messed up, huh? I should’ve just said I liked the color. Sorry.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I want to understand.”

He looked up, locking his gaze with mine.

I could see his face relax, the storm in his eyes calming ever so slightly.

“I meet a lot of people doing what I do. I know tons of hook—er, sex workers who are in their early twenties and look like they’re forty.

Please don’t get me wrong—I love what I do.

I mean, that’s why I do it.” Did he believe that, though?

It looked like he was trying to convince himself rather than me.

“But staying out all night, sometimes every night, in whatever type of weather? Yeah, my skin isn’t going to look the same.

The men I mess around with are rough—like I demand—so I have scars and shit.

It’s kinda sick to think about. I had an easier time getting rough clients when I was sixteen than I do now. ”

I leaned my elbows onto my desk, solely invested in what he was saying. He said rough like he demanded , not like he wanted . If I hadn’t already had my doubts, a seed would’ve been planted from that choice of words alone.

“Anyway.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t go out dressing like the other guys anymore.

I have enough of a reputation that I can be recognized fully clothed, so I don’t bother.

That doesn’t mean I can parade around looking all ugly and shit, though.

I need to look good enough. I need to look…

” Crew paused, a frown tugging at his lower lip.

This time, when he spoke in a low whisper, I didn’t think he was trying to keep our conversation away from the hidden audience.

I think he was trying to be so quiet that not even he could hear what came out of his mouth.

“I need to look like I did back then. I think… yeah, I had blond hair then. Let it grow out after. Chopped all the blond off.”

Everything was so cryptic with him. I tried to follow along, wondering what timeline he was thinking about. “When?”

My question shocked him, a physical start forcing him to jolt in his seat. “Huh?”

“You need to look how you did when?”

His eyes were glossy when he looked at me. They were muddied again, with a far-off expression. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go. Let me know if you need anything else with the produce issue.”

I didn’t have time to interject before he was out of his chair and down the hall. Whatever he was talking about, it haunted him. Would he admit that? Probably not.

Watching the camera feed, I followed Crew with my eyes as he made his way to the back exit. Once he stepped outside, he moved into a blind spot, but I knew he was sitting against the building.

I wanted to know more. I wanted to know every secret Crew had. I wanted to hear them from his mouth, taste them on his tongue, and feel them as they writhed underneath his skin.

The moment Crew left my office, the itching came back with a vengeance.