Page 100 of Total Creative Control
When he left the bathroom, the bedroom door was still closed, so Aaron headed into the kitchen and put the kettle on. And the radio, volume low; he was too jittery for silence this morning. He’d forgotten to grab socks, and the laminate floor was chilly beneath his bare feet as he padded about, emptying the dishwasher and opening the curtains to the gradually brightening morning.
The kettle had just boiled when he heard the click of the bedroom door opening. Heart skipping, Aaron turned around to find Lewis lurking in the kitchen doorway wearing last night’s black jeans and his dark shirt, still unbuttoned. He looked bed-rumpled, sleepy, and sexy as hell.
“Uh, hi,” Lewis said, blinking in the daylight. “What time is it?”
Keeping his tone light, Aaron said, “About half-eight.” He held up a mug. “Tea?”
Lewis hesitated, brow furrowing. “I, um…”
“It’s not a trick question.”
Lewis gave a strained smile. “Right. Thanks. I’ll just…” He nodded towards the bathroom, edging away as if Aaron might bite.
With a sigh, Aaron busied himself in the kitchen, fetching teabags, sugar, and milk. He dropped four pieces of bread into the toaster as he listened to the toilet flush and water run and splash in the sink. And then silence.
A long silence.
The toast popped up, making him jump, filling the flat with its comforting aroma.
Still no Lewis.
Aaron had just started to wonder whether Lewis had escaped through the bathroom window and was even now scaling the building, Spiderman-style, when the bathroom door unlocked, and he emerged. His dark hair curled damply where he’d tried to tame it, and, disappointingly, he’d buttoned his shirt. But his feet were still bare, and that, combined with his grim expression, lent him a vulnerable air that plucked at something powerful in Aaron’s chest.
He gritted his teeth against the feeling. “Come and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the stools at the little breakfast bar that separated his kitchen and living room.
Surprisingly, Lewis did as he was asked and sat across from where Aaron was stirring sugar into a mug of tea.
“Here,” Aaron said, pushing the mug towards him.
“Thanks.” Lewis spoke quietly, wrapping both hands around the mug and gazing into its steamy depths. “But you don’t have to feed me breakfa—”
“It’s just a cup of tea,” Aaron said with rather more snap than he’d intended. “It doesn’t mean we’re married.”
Lewis gave a huff, not exactly of laughter. “Right,” he said. Then, “Look, last night was…” He cleared his throat, and Aaron braced himself not to react; he knew what was coming. No need to make a scene. “Last night was fucking fantastic, actually. But I need to level with you. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
Smiling through his teeth, Aaron said, “What impression do you think I got?”
A shrug, fingers tightening around the mug. “I wouldn’t want you to think that this”—he gestured between them—“is going anywhere beyond sex. Because it’s not. It can’t.”
“I see.” That stung, even though Aaron had been expecting it. Stung? Jesus, it hurt like a fucking gut punch.
Lewis glanced up through his gorgeous dark lashes. “But maybe we could, you know, do this from time to time?”
“Dothis?” Aaron shook his head, blinking hard as he stirred milk into his tea. His voice rose as he said, “You mean fuck? Like…‘friends with benefits’? Fuck-buddies?”
Silence. On the radio, the presenter was talking excitedly about the weather.Cold, with an autumnal nip in the air this morning. And don’t forget to put the clocks back tonight!
“Look,” Lewis said grimly, “I know this isn’t exactly what you want. And I apologise if I led you to believe otherwise, but sex is all I can offer.”
“Is it?” Aaron said, with more feeling than he’d have liked. “Why? Because I don’t believe for a second that’s all you want.”
Lewis’s frown deepened into a scowl. “That’s just how it is. It’s how I am. I don’t—I’m not the kind of man who gets his name on a bench.”
“His name on a bench?”
Lewis waved off that piece of whimsy. “What I mean is, if you’re looking for a committed relationship with dates and corgis and... and a fuckingfuture, then you’re looking in the wrong place.” He rubbed at his jaw, fingers rasping over his dark stubble. “I can’t give you that. I’m sorry, but I’ll never be able to give anyone that.”
It was the bitter resignation in Lewis’s expression that punctured Aaron’s frustration, that set his heart twisting with compassion instead of anger. More gently, he said, “Why do you say that? Why do you think you can’t give someone a future?”