“Why don’t you shower first? I’ll go downstairs and have Mom make some tea. That normally helps when I’m not doing well.” He ruffles my hair and rushes out before I can decline.
Sighing, I gather my things and enter the bathroom. I brush my teeth with the toothbrush I keep in the cup by the sink, floss, and then step into the shower.
As the hot water runs over me, I start to feel a bit better. I must have had some bad heartburn from the steak or something. Anyway, they aren’t really having sex, are they? I mean, sure, they’ve known each other a long time, and sure, they’ve kissed—but still. Aaron turns eighteen soon, so I guess it wouldn’t be that unusual for him to be… sexually active.
Something about this train of thought makes me deeply uncomfortable, unbearably warm. I feel like my body is melting from the inside out, panic licking at my ribs.Deep breaths.
I’m rinsing the shampoo from my hair when I hear the door open and shut.
“Fe?” The toilet lid lifts, and he starts to pee. I laugh. “Caveman.”
The toilet flushes, but the door doesn’t open again. And why the hell isn’t he responding?
I finally get the rest of the soap out of my hair and wipe my eyes. When I open them, I let out an embarrassingly high-pitched scream and nearly slip onto my ass.
Aaron is leaning against the wall at the far end of the shower, holding the curtain open and staring straight at me. God, how drunk is he? He looks like he’s blushing. He looks… pretty.
“Uh, Aaron?”
“Hi, Button.” He smiles—goofy—and his eyes, usually so intense and calculating, are focused on me but glazed over at the same time. “What are you doing?”
I can’t stop the startled laugh that escapes me. “I’m showering, clearly. Are you okay? Did you need to shower or something?”
He shakes his head, and it becomes suddenly clear that he isn’t leaving of his own accord. That melting point inside me turns molten. I feel like I’m burning alive. Luckily the water is hot, or he’d be able to see just how much I’m blushing, too.
Every nerve in my body sparks. My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my throat. In truth, I’m a little scared. I’m not sure what’s happening here—or what’s happening to me.
As his eyes move over me, I realize I have a choice to make. I can call for Felix and hope he hears me. I can get out and try to pull Aaron back to his room myself. Or I can let his drunk ass stand there and finish my shower without interruption.
“Hmm.” I hum, and he still watches me. The air around us feels thick, and I swallow roughly as I realize it isn’t the steam making the room so suffocating.
As I run through my options, I register that I don’t hate the idea of him watching me. It doesn’t bother me. We’re both guys, so why should it? He probably just wants company since he’s drunk.
I grab my designated loofah and the Dove for Men body wash and begin to wash. Spending as long as I have swimming, I’ve built a decent amount of muscle for my age, but I’ve managed to stay lean rather than bulky like the guys on our football team. I like being strong but streamlined. It makes cutting through the water easier. It makes me feel powerful—stronger than bodybuilding ever could.
As I scrub my chest, soap trailing behind each movement, I glance up and find Aaron’s gaze fixed on my hand, his arms crossed tightly as if to keep himself still. I move my hand to the other side of my stomach, and his eyes follow. God, maybe this should make me uncomfortable. But instead, I find it oddly endearing—even a little flattering.
He keeps watching as I finish washing, and I will myself not to react to the attention when his eyes drift lower too. I force my thoughts elsewhere. Dead puppies. Naked grandmas. It works.
While rinsing, I look back at Aaron and see his eyes following a thin line of soap as it runs down my chest, over my stomach, and lower still. Then his gaze snaps up to meet mine. I have no idea what my face must look like for his eyes to narrow the way they do.
I feel pinned beneath that look. Like he’s touching me without laying a hand on me. He licks his lips.
Oh God. Dead puppies. Naked grannies. Come on.
“Button,” he says. That name—the one only he uses. I’ve never heard it sound like that before, like a warning.
“Yes?” My throat feels dry. I just drank water during the movie, didn’t I? What is happening?
The door to Felix’s room opens and closes, and the sound seems to startle Aaron. He blinks a few times, narrows his eyes at me once more, takes one last lingering look, then gives a curt nod and stumbles away.
…What the fuck just happened?
???
Felix and I gather our things for a day trip to the river. It’s only about an hour’s drive from Lancaster, the town we live in, but we’re definitely not turning back for sunscreen or a forgotten towel.
I stuff my backpack with extra shorts and other essentials, but my mind is elsewhere. All I can see is the way Aaron’s eyes narrowed. The way he looked at me, like he was trying to memorize what he saw. Surely, I misread him—he was drunk. Or maybe he thought I was someone else entirely.
