Page 24 of Killing Me Softly

“It’s not Max, is it?” She grimaced and shuddered.

“No! Fuck, no.” There wasn’t a fuck chance in hell he’d get with that prick. Taylor’s housemate who’d drugged him. “It’sjust…the bloke’s a lot older. In a job that requires me to not be me.”

“Did you get yourself a sugar daddy?”

Aaron flinched at the term, the words striking like a whip. But the thought clawed at him. That’s exactly how people would see it if this ever came out. Aaron, the care-leaver, scraping by on bursaries, dating a respected academic who could afford to drown him in luxuries. It didn’t matter that Kenny wasn’t like that, that what they had wasn’t transactional. The world would still boil it down to the ugliest possible narrative.

The idea tasted like ash in his mouth, bitter and suffocating. Kenny wasn’t his sugar daddy. Kenny was the only person who’d ever reallyseenhim, who’d never once made him feel like he was less. And Aaron would burn the world down before he let anyone reduce Kenny to something so hollow.

He gulped down his wine, letting the burn distract him from the thoughts threatening to spiral. Mel tilted her head, watching him closely, her expression softening.

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’d bang a sugar mummy if I could. Besides, you haven’t got a real daddy who can buy you shit, like, a car, for example.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“You got a car?”

“I did. The cutest thing you’ll ever see. Got to drive myself back to campus in it. Can’t wait for you to meet Betty.”

Aaron snorted. “Betty?”

“She is absolutely a Betty.”

“If you say so.” Aaron hung his head, the envy mixing with the grief.

“Does he want to keep you a secret?” Mel titled her neck. “Is that why you look upset?”

“Yes.” Aaron ruffled his hair. “No.”

“Crystal. Thanks for that.” Mel rolled her eyes and drank her wine.

“His mum just died.”

Mel lurched back up. “When?”

“Literally seconds ago. He dropped me off, got a call to let him know, and he rushed off.”

“Shit. Poor fucker.” She then searched his face. “And you’re upset because…you liked his mum?”

“Never met her.”

“Oh.”

“She’d probably hate me.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“He didn’t ask me to go with him.”

“Oh, sweet pea.” She wrinkled her nose, then stroked his leg. “This is your attachment disorder manifesting itself again, isn’t it?”

Aaron kicked her back with his foot. “Don’t psychoanalyse me.”

“Aaron, hun, we’re both doing Forensic Psych. What do you expect?”

“But wouldn’t you ask the person you’ve spent months with, took on fucking holiday, shared a bed with, to go with you? Isn’t that what normal people do?”

“He’s going through something tough and might not want you to see him when he’s that vulnerable.”

“Why not?”

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