Page 91 of Killing Me Softly

“Being safe means not doing anything other than what you’re supposed to do,” Kenny said. “Ortoldto do. I know you struggle with that.”

Aaron cocked his head. And, in complete demonstration of that reckless impulsivity, he leaned across the car and kissed him. With morning commuters drifting in, professors and faculty climbing out of their cars, colleagues who worked alongside Kenny walking just within sight. And Kenny didn’t stop him. Didn’t pull away. Instead, he glided a hand around Aaron’s head, threading his fingers into his hair, gripping to keep him in place, not just allowing it but deepening it.

Because Aaron’s raw, unapologetic nature, ignoring every consequence in favour of the moment, was precisely why Kenny had fallen in love with him.

Aaron dipped away, licked his lips. “Go talkpsychoto her, doc.”

Kenny breathed through a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”

Aaron winked, then Kenny finally let him out of the car and watched him through the rearview mirror as he sauntered across campus, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The officer fell into step behind him, a silent shadow, but Aaron didn’t seem to care. Didn’t even acknowledge it. He just walked, confident, unrushed, throwing a few flashing grins at people who turned to stare. Aaron hid his trauma exceptionally well. He was too used to it. And that killed Kenny a little more.

So only when he disappeared into the Halls did Kenny shift his gaze back to the front windshield. Through the glass, standing in the distance, arms crossed over her chest, was Gail. The faculty secretary. Giving him that look. The same disapproving stare she reserved for students who handed in late assignments and expected her to overlook it. Kenny sighed.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he put the car in park, straightened his tie, and stepped out.

“Morning, Gail.” He kept his voice amiable, as if he hadn’t just been caught with his tongue down a student’s throat in the staff car park.

“I was told you were on leave.”

“I am. Officially. But I need to speak to Dr Pryce. Where has she burrowed herself?”

“Inyouroffice.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Of course she has.”

“I thought you were one of the good ones, Dr Lyons.” Gail shook her head. “Never did I ever thinkyou’dbe the one sleeping with a student.” She peered back to where Aaron had tailed off. “Especially one likehim.”

Kenny read the emphasis behind her words, the quiet betrayal in her tone. Disappointment was a powerful emotion. One that reinforced social norms, demanded accountability, and shaped reputations in ways outright condemnation never could. And right then, Gail’s perception of him had shifted. A year ago, he’d have hated that. Defended himself. Tried to explain and win back her favour.

But he didn’t want to anymore.

He wasn’t interested in playing the role of the untouchable academic, the composed professional whose personal life existed in tidy, acceptable parameters. What he wanted was exactly ‘one like him’.Aaron.

“We all have a dark side.” Kenny buttoned his jacket. “Maybe I’m finally giving into mine.” He then strode off, unwilling to pander to her disapproval of what was essentially none of her fucking business.

The psychology building loomed ahead, familiar yet suddenly unnervingly restrictive. But he burst inside, up three flights of stairs—the same stairs he’d climbed a thousand times before—and this time, the quiet certainty that it could be the last time gnawed at him. But he shoved the thought aside, focusing instead on the glow of his office light spilling into the hallway.

The door was open. Dr Pryce had made herself comfortable. Kenny didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, rapped his knuckleson the doorframe, and let his presence fill the space. “Settling in, I see?”

“Dr Lyons.” Her voice was smooth. Clipped.Practiced. A perfect balance of polite acknowledgment and measured distance. Professional, but not warm. “I thought you were taking leave.”

Kenny shut the door behind him. “I will be.” He stepped forward. “But first, I was hoping to pick your brain about something troubling me.”

“Of course.” She gestured toward the leather couch opposite her desk. A therapist’s invitation, positioning herself in the chair of authority. “What can I help with?”

Kenny lowered onto the couch, exhaling a humourless chuckle as he rubbed a finger across his brow. “To be honest with you, Laura, what’s troubling me… is you.”

A flicker of reaction. Not quite surprise. Not quite amusement. Something measured. Controlled.

“Oh?” She shifted, subtly adjusting her posture, leaning back. Not retreating, but creating space, a controlled distance from his scrutiny. “How so?”

Kenny tilted his head, watching her. “You never did explain how you came to be here.”

She crossed her legs, smoothing an invisible crease from her dress. “Oh.” A light shrug, casual but calculated. “As Ellie mentioned, I’ve transitioned into academia and research rather than direct patient work. I’m sure you, of all people, can appreciate how… taxing clinical practice can be.”

Her words were carefully chosen, designed to invoke mutual understanding, camaraderie. A tactic. Kenny let a smile crawl across his lips. Not one of agreement, but of recognition.

“Especially where I was. Success was scarce there.”

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