Page 13 of Dream a Little Dream

He got the usual look. No one wants to give away their cigarettes. There’s no such thing as aspareone. Every white stick in that pack was destined to be inhaled by the person who forked out the fifteen quid to pay for them. So Aaron dug into his denim jacket pocket and produced the pound coin found in an ASDA trolley that he hadn’t squandered on a scratch card. He handed it over.

Unable to argue with a more than fair transaction, the man of the couple handed him a Mayfair.Shit. His pound outweighed the nicotine on this, but beggars and choosers weren’t in bed together. So he borrowed the bloke’s lighter, lit the stick that gave only the smallest of buzzes, and collapsed down on a bench, turning his back on them, which had him facing another man with an ingratiating smile heading toward him.

Jesus. Fuck.

He couldn’t cut a break.

“Hey, Aaron!” Liam, the bloke from the admissions office, approached him. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“First lecture?” Liam couldn’t take a hint. Paid not to. And Aaron wondered how much the annual take home salary was for dealing with shits like him five days a week. Not enough, whatever it was.

“Yeah.”

“Go well? Lecturer any good?”

Aaron was so very tempted to reply with, ‘as good as his hand on my cock’ but he didn’t think it was appropriate. He needed to set up the blackmail first.

So he said, “Fine.”

“Great.” Liam smiled, undeterred. God, it was annoying. He then leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “And you got all your funds sorted? Your welcome pack?”

Aaron took a lingering drag of his cigarette and darted his gaze to the couple interlocked in a heavy petting session. They couldn’t have heard what Liam had said, but it still rattled his nerves. Here was the reasonnotto tick that fucking box on the form. The reason he’d attempted to hide his background and start fresh. He didn’t want pity. Didn’t want handouts. People looking down on him and knowing all his secrets.

Especially when they didn’t know the half of them.

Protected person status at least shielded the worst of it.

Luckily, Mel came bundling out the doors and slammed his paper cup of tea in front of him. She smiled at Liam, as most polite people would do, and Aaron didn’t offer any indication that he even knew him. Because as soon as he said, ‘hey here’s Liam, he works in the department that funds care kids into university’, Aaron became a pity party.

At that point, Liam got the hint. Although Aaron suspected it was because he thought Aaron had scored on his first lecture.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Liam gathered up his bag as the doors whooshed open once more and, as fate would have it, Dr Kenneth Lyons stepped out. “If you need anything, Aaron, you know where I am, right?”

Aaron didn’t have a fucking Scooby where he was. Nor did he think he would ever need him. He’d signed his cash bursary. That was in the bank. He’d completed the forms for his three-six-five rent-free student accommodation. What else could he need him for? So he said nothing, exhaled slowly, letting the tendrils of smoke curl around him like armour.

Then Liam rushed up to Dr Lyons. “Dr Lyons, glad I ran into you. About that talk next week.” And off they both went, goneinto the depths of whatever it was academics and support staff discuss away from the prying ears of students.

Aaron’s cigarette burned down to its last inch, but he kept it between his fingers, the heat grounding him as his gaze followed Dr Lyons’ retreating figure, watching the tension in his stride, the purposeful way he moved. There had been a flicker, a moment of recognition in Kenny’s eyes. A spark threatening to ignite the precarious balance Aaron had spent years constructing. But it was gone, swallowed up by Liam’s cheerful interruption.

“Who’s he?” Mel asked, ripping a sachet of sugar to pour into her coffee.

“Don’t sign up for the Ambassador scheme.”

Mel snorted. “What do you think of Dr Lyons? He’s kind of intense, huh?”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately. That word didn’t even cover it.

“Yeah.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “Something like that.”

Mel shrugged, oblivious to the storm brewing in Aaron’s chest. “Well, at least he keeps things interesting. Most lecturers just drone on.”

Interesting wasn’t the word Aaron would use either. Dangerous, maybe.

“Seminar time.” Mel tossed her empty cup into the bin. “You coming?”

Aaron hesitated. He could feel the weight of the moment stretching out in front of him. If Dr Lyons was in that seminar, there’d be no avoiding him. No escaping the unspoken tension rooting itself deep between them. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? He wasn’t here to run. He was here to confront the man he’d spent years chasing. The man who held answers Aaron wasn’t even sure he wanted anymore.

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