Page 51 of Say It Again
“Law. I asked what kind of law you practice.” He cleared his throat, rubbing an arm. “I don’t think you mentioned it.”
Aaron’s back was turned to him, but his shoulders bunched around his ears and his breathing had changed. Quickened.
“You do practice law. Right?”
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t speak.
“Aaron. Look at me.”
When he finally twisted around, his skin had paled even more. He almost looked sick, like he might throw up at any moment. He tossed the pizza onto a counter, his voice deep and uneven. “No. I don’t practice law.”
“So, what do you do?”
“Please sit, Daniel.”
“I don’t want to sit.”
Hands bracing the sink and head drooping, Aaron sucked in a sharp breath. “What I do is offer people my companionship. In return, they pay me for my time.”
Like a spit bucket at a wine tasting. It wasn’t that it hit him like a tidal wave. A tidal wave usually had more warning. This was more like an undertow, strong and slick, sucking the truths about his world from beneath him in an instant.
“You’re—” The words stuck in his throat began to trickle out cold and thick. Even as he asked it, there was no way the answer could be yes. “You’re a prostitute?”
Aaron’s blue ice flashed to his. He nodded. “But I prefer escort.”
The swelter in his body pooled in his ears. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his limbs, which twitched enough to start throbbing.
“Daniel. I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t believe you—you lied to me.”
“I know.” Aaron rushed to him, hesitating to reach for him. “I’m sorry. If you want to hate me, you’re entitled to hate me, but—”
“I don’t hate you.” Daniel scrunched his brow, eyes widening. “I would never. I could never hate someone for what they do with their body. It’s your body, and you get to do whatever you want with it, but how dare you not tell me. How dare you lie to me this entire time.”
“I didn’t lie! Okay, yes, I did, but not the entire time.”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“I thought you knew at the party. I swear I thought you knew.”
“How would I know that?”
“Because!” Aaron’s arms shot out to the sides. “Everyone at that party was either an escort or someone paying for an escort. Why’d you think I was an attorney?”
“Why?” He shrugged with his whole body. “Well. The guy.”
“What guy?”
“You know, the—” He flittered a hand about, but his brain was a hazy mess, the party an even hazier mess. Something about a yellow jacket. Something about floor popcorn. If he’s wearing a shirt, he’s an attorney and an asshole. A bunch of older men lounged about his memories, surrounded by their beautiful young companions. A game of shirts versus skins with the only part worth remembering being the special kiss with the special boy. “Guy.”
“Look, I would never intentionally hurt you.” Aaron’s voice was so earnest. So pained. “I had planned to tell you in a note and leave it for you to find. Then I just….” He trailed off, gesticulating in the air with his hands.
“What?” he asked. “You just what?”
Aaron gazed up through his lashes. “I couldn’t.”
Daniel raised his eyebrows.