Page 23 of Killing Me Softly

Mel barked a laugh that echoed down the empty corridor. “Oh, sweetheart, where’ve you been? It’s all gender-neut now. Unless you specifically request different, they stick you wherever. And I made a very specific request to be next to you.” She shrugged. “Figured us solitary, third-year misfits should stick together.” She shoved him playfully, grin turning sly. “Plus, let’s be real, I have zero interest in staring at boy bits.”

Aaron snorted. “More worried about the boys looking atyourbits.”

Mel straightened, gesturing dramatically to herself, from her magenta pixie cut to her combat boots. “What part of this screams hetero, up-for-it, and appealing to beer-drinking, toxic masculines?”

Aaron let out a laugh, a real one, the tension in his chest easing for the first time all evening. And he reached out to pull her into a hug. A proper hug. Tight, grounding, the kind he didn’t hand out often. “So fucking glad you’re here.”

Mel softened for a moment before rubbing his back with a knowing touch. “You all right, sweets?”

Aaron didn’t let go, burying his face in her shoulder for a heartbeat longer than he probably should. When he finally pulled back, he shrugged, his grin faltering at the edges. “No.”

Mel tilted her head, sharp gaze cutting through him like it always did. “Your room or mine?”

Aaron peered behind her to the room that had once belonged to someone else he thought he could have been friends with. Someone he doomed by trying to be just that. Despite it having had two other occupants since Rahul had been in there, the ache of it lingered, as stubborn and immovable as a scar.

“Mine,” he said and finally twisted the key in the lock and entered the room he’d not been in for months, putting the door on the latch.

“Okay! Hang on! I got just what we need for this.” Mel scurried off into her room for a moment, at least allowing Aaron to ensure there were no telltale signs of his unorthodox relationship with their professor.

He tossed his bag into a corner and collapsed onto the narrow bed. The springs groaned in protest, digging into his back. The single mattress felt impossibly small, the scratchy sheets a harsh reminder of how far he’d fallen from Kenny’s world of soft linens, spacious comfort, and indulgence. How had he got so used to luxury? How had Kenny made it feel normal, as if Aaron belonged there? Why had he done that if he didn’t think it?

“Celebrations!” Mel bounded in, a bottle of white wine clutched in one hand and two plastic glasses in the other. She grinned wide enough to light up the room, waggling her spoils like a trophy.

Aaron pushed himself up to sit, making space for her on the edge of the bed. She plopped down, the bottle nestling between her knees as she twisted off the cap. She handed him a glass and poured generously, the cheap wine splashing over the sides.

“It’s not champagne,” she said, “and was the cheapest three ninety-nine bottle from Lidl, but fuck it, right?” She poured hers, put the bottle on the floor, then held up her glass.

“Fuck it.” Aaron clinked his plastic cup to hers with a dullclunk.

“So…” Mel crossed her legs, leaning back on her arm. “Where you been?”

“Barcelona.”

“Nice.” She sipped her wine. “Looking to go there soon. Recommended sights?”

“Bunkers del Carmel. Most romantic spot ever. Especially at sundown.”

“Oh yeah…so, you weren’t by yourself?”

Aaron wished he could tell her. But trust was a hard-earned currency for him, and this wasn’t onlyhissecret. He was sure Mel wouldn’t care and demand all the juicy details. Another reason Aaron wanted to cling to the secret for a while. The juicy details were his to cherish. He didn’t want to share them. But he also hated lying to Mel.

“Went with a bloke I been seeing.”

Mel gasped, then slapped his leg. “Since fuckingwhen?”

“Few months.” Aaron gulped down his wine, wincing at the acidity. Kenny only drank good wine and, therefore, so had he for the past few months.

“I hate you for not telling me.”

“Sorry, I know.” Aaron motioned for the bottle and Mel passed it over for Aaron to top up his glass. “It’s…complicated.”

“Tell me what the fuck isn’t?”

“Yeah. I know.” He leaned back against the headboard. “But this is…reallyfucking complicated.”

“Can I get a name?”

“No.”

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