Page 50 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“I’m busy later.”

Kenny exhaled, full of frustration. Then, without a word, he reached for a random chocolate bar from the front display and placed it on the counter. Aaron snatched it up, scanned it, and held it out, forcing himself to stay steady. But when Kenny’s fingers grazed his, a jolt shot up Aaron’s arm—too warm, too real.

Kenny didn’t let go right away. “Call. Me.”

Aaron yanked his hand back, the shock of the touch too much to bear. For a moment, the air between them hung heavy, charged with everything they weren’t saying. Then the moment broke as the lads burst out laughing from somewhere in the shop, shattering the quiet.

Kenny stepped back, his jaw tight, frustration visible in every line of his body. He left the chocolate bar on the counter, untouched, and turned toward the door.

Aaron curled his fingers around the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cheap laminate as he stared at the spot where Kenny had just stood. The lingering burn of his touch still seared into his skin, as if it had left an invisible mark. He didn’t call after him. Couldn’t. Not with Max’s watchful eyes tracking his every move from the snack aisle. Not with the tension in his chest threatening to shatter him if he moved too quickly.

When the shop door swung shut behind Kenny, the sound reverberated through Aaron like a slammed gate, locking himinside his own turmoil. The urge to run after him clawed at his ribs, but before he could even consider it, Max appeared at the counter, his swagger like nails on a chalkboard.

“All right, Aaron?” Max’s voice was far too chipper, a smirk plastered across his face like a mask.

Aaron forced his expression blank, folding his arms. “Max.”

“How’s things?” Max tapped his fingers restlessly on the counter, darting his gaze to his mates milling around in the snack aisle.

“Good,” Aaron replied flatly, tone a barricade.

Max’s smirk widened. “Heard about you and Taylor.”

“Yeah. Okay. Do you want something?”

Max didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he drifted his gaze over Aaron, laden with suggestion, the kind of look that crawled under Aaron’s skin and set his teeth on edge.

“From the shop,” Aaron snapped.

Max laughed, low and mocking. “Thought it was all for sale.”

“It is. For the right price. And you can’t afford it.”

“Ooo, brutal.” Max feigned his wounded pride, but his smirk didn’t waver. “No need to be so touchy. I was just offering my condolences. You and Taylor were a good pair. Both fit. Quite hoped I’d get to see a homemade video one day.”

“Guess you’ll just have to stick to PornHub. What’s your search term? ‘Unconscious but takes my micro penis so good’?”

Max’s smirk faltered, expression alternating between amusement and irritation. He recovered quickly, though, letting out a snort more forced than natural. “Taylor said something about that. Look, mate, we don’t do that sorta shit. Why would we? We’re three hot lads. We’ve got enough offers without resorting to spiking someone’s drink.”

“Do you?” Aaron’s tone was ice. “Because I remember you implying you hadn’t had me and quite liked the idea, to which I told you to go fuck yourself.”

Max’s laugh was sharp that time, more bark than humour. “Look, you had a lot to drink that night. Maybe it was just that. Or, if you think there was something extra in there, I can go wrangle the lot who came and find out who the fuck did it. Because it sure as hell wasn’t me. Nor George. And it wouldn’t have been Taylor. He’s a good bloke. You’ll find it hard to do better than him.”

Aaron didn’t waver. “I’ll manage.”

Max held his nerve, but there was an undercurrent of fear beneath his bravado. His smile too stiff, movements too controlled. He thought Aaron might actually go to someone, might report what happened. And even if there was no evidence left, the sheer spectre of an investigation would be enough to tarnish Max’s reputation and jeopardise his final year.

Aaron could do it. Heshoulddo it. But he wouldn’t. What good would it do him? It wouldn’t change what happened. It wouldn’t fix anything.

“Anything else?” Aaron asked, voice sharp, signalling the conversation was over.

Max hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shrugged and stepped back and as he turned to leave, someone else stepped up to the counter, causing Max to pause.

“No hard feelings, eh?” Max extended his hand toward Aaron, tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Been told it’s not a good idea to get on the wrong side ofAaron Jones.”

Aaron stared at Max’s hand, his fingers twitching with the urge to ignore it. But there was no point in escalating things. Not with so much already hanging over him. Maybe if he called a truce, Taylor would forget the whole Kenny thing, too. So he forced himself to take it, giving a quick, curt shake.

Max grinned, smug and triumphant, before stepping aside for the next customer who dumped a handful of lip balms, at least ten tubes, onto the counter without a word. It took Aaron a second too long to grab the first tube and scan it because of thestrange way the man was looking at him. That, along with his weird lips. No wonder he needed all this salve. They looked cracked and sore. Bloke came in here most Wednesdays. Buying the same thing. In bulk. Cheap lip slave obviously didn’t last that long. False economy.

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