Page 72 of Total Creative Control
“Ah, fantastic!” He flinched when Charlie’s hands landed on his shoulders and began to massage him lightly. “You’ll take notes and actions, yeah?”
“I—”
“Awesome!”
“That’s not why he’s here,” Lewis growled.
Surprised, Aaron glanced over and found Lewis’s gaze fixed darkly on Charlie’s hands, which were still mauling Aaron’s shoulders.
“Sure, but he doesn’t mind, do you, Andy?” With one final squeeze, Charlie let go. “Good man. Okay!” Finally, he took a seat on the other side of the table and rubbed his palms together. “Let’s get started.Leeches: USA! I’m excited. Hell, everyone at Telopix is excited about this project. So, before you begin your pitch, let me tell you something about our creative vision for the show...”
At which point, Aaron tuned out, his thoughts returning to the more urgent matter of his personal catastrophe.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t felt anything like this level of distress when he and Colin had ended their relationship. In retrospect, that should probably have raised flags at the time. But considering last night’s painful realisation about his feelings for Lewis, he now suspected that he hadn’t been in love with Colin when they split.
No. Be honest.
He’d never been in love with Colin.
Which was a sobering thought.
And the more he brooded on it, the shittier it made him feel. Colin had been right all along, it seemed. Aaronhadbeen in love with someone else throughout their relationship. Only it hadn’t been Skye Jäger; it had been Lewis Hunter. Which was a whole lot worse.
And if Colin was right about that, what else was he right about?
Aaronwasstill doing the same job he’d stumbled into three years ago. Hehadturned his back on a teaching career, hehadrefused to pursue other opportunities within RPP, and he’d never even considered applying for more senior roles elsewhere.
Colin had been right about all of that. And as the thoughts unspooled in Aaron’s mind, the truth became horribly, humiliatingly clear.
Aaron had been a bloody idiot.
All this time he’d prided himself on his loyalty to Lewis, believing that Lewis needed him too much for Aaron to consider leaving. And, yeah, Lewisdidneed him. He needed him because Aaron put up with him, because Aaron made his life easier, and because replacing him would be a pain in the arse.
In short, because Aaron was convenient.
That would have been a crappy enough reason to stay, yet the real reason was even worse, even more humiliating. And now, after last night, he couldn’t hide from it any longer. He’d stayed in his job for three years because he’d fallen in love with Lewis. Because he didn’t want to be parted from him. Like one of Lewis’s clingy boyfriends, Aaron had hung around long after he should have moved on, hoping for scraps of Lewis’s attention, a few breadcrumbs of his time.
Christ, he was no better than Mason. In fact, he was worse than Mason because at least Mason had a successful career. Aaron, on the other hand, had hobbled himself professionally and torpedoed his chance at a healthy relationship with a man who actually gave a shit about him. Worst of all, he hadn’t even been honest. Not with Colin, not with Lewis and certainly not with himself.
So what the hell did he do now? How did he get past this?
He had no answer. He couldn’t even think straight. Not with Lewis sitting right there, bristling with a tension so palpable Aaron could feel it crackling against his skin. Or maybe that was just the lingering aftershocks from last night, because despite this morning’s crushing revelations, his body was still half charged by the intensity of their encounter. He shifted in his seat, the dull ache in his arse another reminder he could do without. And yet, pathetically, one he didn’t want to let go of. If nothing else it was tangible proof that he hadn’t imagined Lewis’s passion, his desire, his—Aaron’s throat ached—his unexpected sweetness.
He stared down at his notes, watching the words blur, blinking furiously, terrified of betraying his feelings. Curling his fingers into his palms, he dug his nails into the heels of his hands, concentrating on the sting to distract from the larger swell of emotion he was afraid might overwhelm him.
God, he was pathetic.
Eventually, the flood subsided, and he found himself listening to Charlie again. He’d been talking for some time in an endless, droning monologue.
“...and so essentially our vision is to really push this wide.” At least he sounded like he was crawling towards a conclusion. “To engage with the same diverse audienceLeecheshas been building in the European market, but to tailor it for the US consumer. To their cultural touchpoints and moral sensitivities, yeah?”
“That all sounds great,” Toni said, cutting in before Charlie could draw another breath. Lewis, meanwhile, had his head down, ferociously doodling on the hardcopy of the pitch Aaron had given him. Toni went on, “And we’re totally onboard with a US setting. We’d been thinking New York would be perfect, as one of the oldest cities with a rich supernatural history.”
Charlie tapped his temple, then pointed his finger at her. “Great minds, Toni. Great minds. But I was thinking Boston? Because then we could call it ‘Brahmins’—as in Boston Brahmins. What do you think?”
Lewis jerked his head up. “You want to change the name of the show?”
“Everything’s on the table.” Charlie spread his hands, smiling his shark’s smile. “We’re throwing it all in the air, Lewis, and seeing where it lands. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I loveLeeches, it’s great, but maybe a little obvious?Brahminshas that sense of something exclusive and elite, so it makes sense, right?”