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It shouldn’t hurt me to feel like I’m this bad boy he has to hide from his parents. I was the one to suggest I can’t date him in the first place, but it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I know I’ll later soothe myself with the sweetness of Aaron’s lips, but I still hate that I can’t have him as my own, for the whole world to see.

Chapter 13

Vex

I can’t believe it’s December already. Snow lies in big piles on either side of the studio entrance, where I shoveled it earlier, and Christmas decorations in shades of gold, red, and green twinkle out in the street, brightening up the late afternoon. I hate it when it gets dark so early, but while I’m not very fond of the holidays themselves, I enjoy all the bright, colorful lights that make the gloom of winter a bit more bearable.

And while I don’t have a single good memory related to Christmas, there’s a tree-shaped neon on the reception counter, and even some fake presents underneath, because why not? People like it for reasons unfamiliar to me.

My body aches as I wave off a long-time customer, who comes in for sessions all the way from Chicago. We’ve just finished an amazing triptych on his back, but after hours in a hunched position, all I want is to lie down on the sofa usually occupied by our customers’ friends. I groan when my bones creak, and I stretch for good measure.

“That was impressive,” Yasmin says as she strides in with coffees from Rainbowology—cold brew for me, and a latte for her. “I loved the color on the rusalkas.” She sits down, pushing my legs toward the back of the sofa with her butt.

“Thanks. I need to print and frame the photos for the reception area. I’m pretty proud of how the whole thing came out,” I mumble, resting.

“Which actually reminds me…” She puts the drinks on the table in front of the sofa. “Is Aaron ever getting that tattoo he wanted?”

I open one eye to look at her. “Why do you care?” I ask, even though I’ve been asking that myself for the past three months. I am a great artist, I’ve created a design just for him, I’ve offered to do it for free, yet whenever I mention we could get on with it, my boy always comes up with an excuse. I’m at the point where I’ve stopped asking. I hate the idea that he dislikes the woodcut-style beetle I drew for him but can’t find the courage to tell me, so I choose to believe he’s anxious about getting inked. Because of his future job. Because of what his parents might say. Because he doesn’t want pain. Those are all valid reasons to doubt whether he wants ink in the first place, but that doesn’t change the fact that deep down I’m pissed off about it.

I suppose I want to leave my mark on him, as a memento of our time together, and the longer he stalls, the more improbable that seems. Maybe by the time he finishes university and heads for greener pastures, leaving me behind, he’ll be happy he didn’t bend under pressure?

For now though, we’re doing well. He comes over all the time, and he featured in a few group shots from parties on my social media. The sex is fucking amazing, and we went away to Chicago once, just the two of us. I still felt that being open with him in public was a stretch, but we splurged on a fancy hotel and he took me to a cool Korean restaurant, while I booked us tickets to an exhibition on medieval woodcut prints.

Yas shrugs. “Wow. Touchy much? It's a nice design. It would look good on the wall.” She points to the gallery of our ink on clients.

I would fucking love to cover his whole body with my work and look at it every day, but if he doesn’t want to become my canvas, what can I do about it? I’m already getting a fair deal out of our friendship—good conversation, shared hobbies, and sex on tap, which I wasn’t able to have since my pitiful stint at relationships at the beginning of my life in Springton.

I have nothing to complain about, even if the thing we have can never become more than that. Such is life. He’s got a bright future ahead of him, and I need to focus on my business instead of chasing someone who’s pretty much told me he would not date-date an unsuitable man like me.

The only thing that annoys me, and I can’t pinpoint why, is that he won’t let me read his story. And yeah, it’s petty of me to care, since it’s just smut, but he works on it at mine sometimes, and since we’re both gay and have sex, it seems like the obvious thing that he’d let me read it. Instead, he’s protective as though the manuscript needs to stay his dirty little secret. When I prodded once, he even lied to me and said he was writing an essay when I know for a fact no one would blush like that when analyzing Hemingway.

“Earth to Vex?” Yas snaps her fingers at me.

“Hm?”

“Is Aaron going home for Christmas?”

I stall, surprised that I’m not sure. We haven’t talked about it. I’ve just assumed he’d be around and that maybe we’d spend the day watching old movies, which is another hobby we share, but he does have parents who not only might want him home for the holidays but also have the money to fly him to any location of their choice.

“No idea,” I say, shrugging.

She gives me a skeptical look. “Christmas is in ten days and you don’t know what your boyfriend’s plans are?”

I chuckle but close my eyes, because despite knowing that it’s for the better, I’m annoyed that he isn’t really mine. And if he is, it’s only a temporary agreement. “He’s not my boyfriend, Yas.”

She rolls her eyes and has a sip of coffee. “You mean the guy who brought you organic broth when you had your little man flu, and the one you draw in your sketchbook in all sorts of lewd positions, isn’t your boyfriend?”

I pretend the heat blooming on my cheeks isn’t there, because I’ve made so many sketches of Aaron, and he’s only seen some of them. It’s embarrassing just how much I enjoy his style, his looks, and his company. I’m firmly in the camp of managing one’s expectations. “I’m a bad boy hook-up. People want to fuck me, not actually date me.”

She snorts before sucking on her pink metal straw. “Oh yeah, you are so bad. Pretty much always honors his commitments, doesn’t drink or smoke pot, always uses condoms, and donates to children’s charities. Yeah, Vex, you really are a monster.”

I press my lips together, because so what if I’m not exactly what I seem to be if that is the me Aaron wants before his parents push him into the arms of some nice boy?

“That’s not the point. You know I can’t really date any guy if I don’t want to risk someone discovering the truth. It would just be too much stress. Maybe when girls lose interest in me, I can do whatever I want, but not yet.”

“Aaron‘s been discreet so far.”

Has he been discreet, or is secrecy convenient for him so he doesn’t have to tell his prim and proper parents about me?