Fever Pitch (20 page)

Make it so she can't.

“I think—” Giles wasn't sure what he was saying, his mouth moving faster than his brain. “I think we surprised Mrs. Seavers is all. I don't think she knew about me. It's my fault. I was a little…more affectionate than maybe I should have been in a public hallway.”

“Oh,
honey
.” Vanessa
tsk
ed at Giles and pursed her lips. She turned to Beth. “I'm so sorry. I can only imagine. Giles has always been…exuberant.”

“It's…okay.” Beth's gaze never left Aaron. “I was surprised. But it's okay.” She couldn't quite smile, but she was trying. “It's okay, Aaron.”

Aaron
did
smile at his mother, tentatively.

Okay.
Giles let out a breath. “Mom—can I meet you out front? Aaron and I— We have to go get something from backstage. We forgot our…folders.”

Fuck, that was unbelievably lame. But it seemed their mothers might have fallen for it, because they both said they'd meet them in front when they were ready.

Giles led Aaron to the single-stall bathroom, locked the door and drew him into his arms. “I'm
so sorry
, Aaron. Seriously, I feel like complete shit. I don't have any idea how to make it okay, but if I can—”

“It's all right.” Aaron leaned against Giles, crouching so he could rest on his shoulder. “I mean—yes. It's going to be awkward. But…I think mostly she's surprised. Maybe this is better than going nuts all break trying to work out how to tell her.”

“I'm such an asshole. I'm so goddamn sorry.”

Aaron nuzzled Giles's neck and slipped his hands into Giles's waistband over his ass. “It's okay.”

Giles shivered at the feel of Aaron stroking him. “You have to call me tonight and let me know how the ride home is. And if I can see you tomorrow.”

Aaron's hands slid deeper. “I will.”

Giles wanted to fuck him, not leave him. He kissed openmouthed at Aaron's collarbone. “Let me show you how sorry I am for fucking up. Let me show you with my mouth on your dick.”

God but Giles loved the way those words alone made Aaron plump in his pants. “I— Our moms—”

“I'll suck hard and fast, honey.” Giles went to his knees, trailing his hands and mouth down Aaron's chest.

It felt good, having Aaron's cock in his mouth, tasting him, smelling him. He made it a goddamn good blow job, lots of tongue and suction, hums in the back of his throat, teases into the slit. He fondled Aaron's balls and rubbed his taint. With a press against Aaron's pucker, he had himself a fountain, and he sucked Aaron dry. Climbing a now-boneless boyfriend, Giles cradled him to the wall and indulged in a slow, spunk-flavored kiss.

“You promise you'll be okay?” he asked when they came up for air. “That if you're not, you'll call me?”

Aaron nodded, nuzzling his nose. “Giles—thank you.”

Giles ran his hands down Aaron's arms. “What for? Outing you to your mom? Making out with you in the hallway?”

Aaron's touch was so gentle it made Giles shut his eyes. “Just—thank you.”

It took them another fifteen minutes to leave the bathroom and go back to their mothers, and they went hand in hand. Vanessa and Beth were chatting on one of the lobby benches, Giles's dad loitering in the background. The moms looked like they were getting along, and Beth seemed a lot more even-keeled than she'd been when they left. The real test, though, was when Aaron came up to her. How would she react?

When she smiled at her son with a soft acceptance in her countenance, Giles finally allowed himself to relax, at least a little.

For the first ten minutes in the car, neither Aaron nor his mom said anything. Eventually Beth broke the silence.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

She wasn't being angry or confrontational, which was good. If anything she sounded hurt. Which, oddly enough, annoyed Aaron.

“Because I only became okay with it myself in the last few months. And Giles—we've been friends for a while, but this…only happened last night.”

“So you didn't
know
before last night?”

Tension spread across his chest. Aaron leaned against the window, hating that they had another hour before he could go to his room and wait for school to start again.

“I'm sorry.” She kept fidgeting. He could practically feel her trying to make this his fault, making her face this, and yet she seemed to keep running into the fact that this wasn't about her. “It was a strange way to find out.”

“It wasn't how I'd planned to tell you, no.”

“How
were
you planning to tell me?”

“I don't know, Mom. If I could have figured out a way to never bring it up, believe me, I would have.” Originally he'd intended to ask for dinner, but now he was glad his stomach was empty. “Please don't tell Dad. He's going to be angry enough about my classes.”

“Why? What happened to your classes?”

He wished he didn't have to go home. He wished he could have gone home with Giles, not just to get a ride but to stay at the Mulder house. Shutting his eyes tight, Aaron pressed his forehead to the cold glass of the window.

“
Aaron.
What happened to your—?”

“I dropped all the pre-law stuff Dad signed me up for. I took a bunch of music classes. I want to be a music performance major.” His gut knotted, and his chest got so tight his breaths hurt.
Please leave me alone. Please don't be disappointed in me again tonight.

“Oh. He's…not going to like that. At all.”

Aaron tried to pack himself down, to rediscover the same cool silence he'd stumbled into when Tanner had rejected him and he'd had to move away. It was hard, though, to smother all the joy he'd found at Saint Timothy, that he'd come to take for granted.

His pocket buzzed once, then kept buzzing. Pulling out his phone, Aaron saw four texts from Giles.

Checking in to make sure you're okay.

I think your car is two ahead of me.

My mom will not stop texting about how cute you are. Then texts me to stop reading texts while I drive.

She's right. You're very hot.

Another text appeared while Aaron read the screen.

I do, you know. Love you. It's probably dumb to keep saying that so soon. But I really do.

Smiling, Aaron felt a great deal of the tension fall away from his chest. He thumbed back a reply.

I love you too.

Beth glanced over. “Is that him?”

“Yeah.” Aaron brushed his thumb along the edge of the phone. “He wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Her smile was quiet, almost sad. “You relax around him. I only got to watch the two of you for a few minutes, but you haven't been like this with anyone since Tanner.”

A soft, sorrowful lump eased down Aaron's solar plexus. “Yeah. Probably true.”

She patted his leg. “It's good to see you happy, honey. I wish you could have told me…differently, but…I'm glad he makes you feel good.”

Aaron touched the washed-out, wide-eyed, sticking-out-eared selfie Giles sent him.
Me too.

C
hapter Nineteen

W
hen Aaron had thought about going home for Christmas, he'd assumed he'd alternate between quiet days while his mother went to work and long, uncomfortable evenings with her when she was home. His weekends would be peppered with holiday visits to his aunt's house, awkward because his mother's sister had the perfect, smiling family and Aaron and Beth decidedly did not. The climax would be his father calling to ask about his grades, and Aaron would have to either lie or confess the truth.

These assumptions, however, were all made PG: Pre-Giles.

To start, Giles came over at least every other day. He apologized profusely for being less available, for taking Aaron on such lame dates. Aaron loved, though, how Giles took him on late-afternoon drives to get a Frosty in Anoka. Giles always called before he went to bed, and they texted so much Aaron usually had to charge his phone midday. Most of it was nonsense, but Aaron treasured those emojis as much as their Frosty runs. He loved Giles's selfies while he made cookies with his mom, his running play-by-play of whatever family gathering he was at now.

There were several naughty Snapchats too. Giles convinced Aaron to play that game with him, and those photos became almost more of a bonding event than the texts relating their days. At first they went with standard cock shots, which was hot, but they soon found teasers were more exciting. Giles went incoherent when Aaron sent him a selfie from his waist down as he lay in his underwear on his bed, and Aaron learned Giles could render him speechless with a carefully angled shot of his neck and collarbone. They still teased each other with the full monty—if Aaron went too long without sending a pic of his bare ass, Giles began to complain—but the soft-core shots were where they spoke to each other.

On the Friday after Christmas, Aaron went to a family gathering at Giles's house. Giles had said over and over Aaron didn't have to come, which at first made Aaron think Giles didn't want him there. When Aaron hinted at this, though, Giles got flustered. “No, I want you there. I just…I get it if you think it's weird.”

“Why would it be weird?”

“Because it's my family. I don't want you to think I'm trying to assimilate you or anything.”

Aaron never fully understood what Giles had been nervous about. Giles's family was nice, very friendly, and best of all they didn't fight. They bickered, particularly Giles and his mother, but nothing was the same as the tension-riddled dinners and shouting/weeping arguments Aaron had grown up with. Giles's sister and brother were present too, and their spouses. They welcomed Aaron, let him hold the new baby, made him feel at home. For dinner Aaron had a big meal of chili and bread chased down by eggnog and Christmas cookies. He played board games and sat with Giles on the love seat while they watched cheesy stop-animation specials on TV, snuggled beneath the blanket hiding their entwined hands and legs.

He got a present from Mrs. Mulder, which was sweet but made him panic because he hadn't brought anything. When Giles took Aaron to his room and produced another wrapped box, Aaron tried to refuse it.

“I didn't get you anything—I'm so sorry.”

“Whatever.” Giles pressed the package into Aaron's hand. “It's kind of lame anyway, so don't get excited. It's one of those things that seemed cool in the store and now probably not so much.”

It
was
cool: it was a bound notebook of blank composition paper, with jotting space in the margins and chord spaces in the header. Aaron ran his fingers over the cover. “I love it. But I didn't get you anything.”

“You can write me a song,” Giles suggested with a wink.

Aaron
had
been composing lately, a short, simple melody line that made his heart feel good. That was as far as it had gone, though, and as usual he couldn't think of what words should go with it. He had nothing presentable enough for Giles. “I meant a present right now.”

“Then sing me something.” They were sitting on Giles's bed, and Giles leaned back on his pillows, resting his hands above his head. “Something right now. Just for me.”

Aaron tapped Giles lightly on his belly with the notebook. “That's not a real present.”

“It would be perfect. You have no idea how many times I've listened to you sing and wished you were singing to me.”

He seemed so sincere, but Aaron had a hard time believing him all the same. “But I've sung with you a million times.”

“You haven't sung
to
me.” Giles ran a hand down Aaron's arm, then withdrew, abruptly self-conscious. “You don't have to, obviously.”

Aaron caught Giles's hand, threading their fingers together. “What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything. You could sing the alphabet song, and I'd get the shivers.”

Aaron thought about singing that to tease him, but he couldn't, because for Giles, he could only pick one song. “I've sung this one before, a lot with the Ambassadors. But most of the time, inside I
was
singing it to you.”

He watched Giles settle into his pillow, flushed and pleased. Finding the opening pitch in his head, Aaron drew a breath from his diaphragm and began the opening strains of “Somewhere Only We Know”.

Usually when he sang it, he belted—but he had the piano or the rest of the Ambassadors beneath him. Here in Giles's bedroom, it was only his voice, the two of them in the evening quiet. Aaron sang softly, dragging the tempo out. Through it all, he gazed directly into Giles's eyes and held his hand.

Drank in the beautiful expression on his boyfriend's face.

Usually Giles was sharp-edged, alert and focused, but right now he looked like melted butter. Soft as putty and ten times as malleable. The funniest part was that the more he sang, the more confident Aaron felt—for once he was the sure-footed one. Each word was for Giles, even though the lyrics themselves weren't exactly right for how the song made Aaron feel. For Aaron it was the melody, the way the notes rose and fell, the innocence and lushness. The plea for a lover to take him away to a special place where only they two could be.

When the song finished, Giles stared at Aaron for several seconds, not saying a word. Aaron waited, the music echoing in the air between them, wrapping around them, holding them close.

Giles drew him down for a kiss, murmuring soft thanks, sliding his arms around Aaron to pull him closer and make love to him.

No, Aaron didn't feel bad about his present anymore.

For New Year's, Giles and Aaron headed to Walter and Kelly's place in Minneapolis. Giles was glad to escape Oak Grove and get back to civilization.

Civilized it was—though Walter had offered to take them clubbing, they'd opted instead for a dinner made by Kelly followed by chatting in the living room, sharing stories about college and life. Walter and Kelly talked about their upcoming wedding. Walter's family had the money, but Kelly wanted to get married in his home church. Apparently Walter's mother was passive-aggressive and manic-depressive, and Walter spent a lot of time herding her out of the way.

Giles made a mental note to treat his busybody but loving mother a bit better when she fussed around the edges of his life. Clearly she wasn't half as awful as she could be.

“I loved the a cappella singers,” Kelly said around a mouthful of popcorn. “I wish we could have them at the wedding.”

“Salvo is serious about looking for gigs,” Giles said. “I could set you up. Aaron can speak better for the Ambassadors, but I suspect they're more of the same.”

“Oh, totally.” Aaron was clearly excited by the idea.

Kelly practically melted on the couch, torn between being moved and seriously fucking excited, and Walter's gratitude was almost carnal.

Giles pulled Aaron closer to him. “Send us the date and the details, and we'll get back to you.”

That night was fun, but the next day they headed to their respective homes. Giles began counting the days until their return to Saint Timothy, not because of his family or Aaron's, not even because he'd go back an official music therapy major.

He wanted to go back because he was so goddamn tired of watching over his shoulder every time they went out in public.

A few times Giles had taken Aaron out on real dates—dinner, a movie or both. All too often they ran into people from A-H. Giles's friends seemed surprised but happy for him. The random people who knew neither of them well rode the middle, not saying anything but tending to stare.

Aaron's “friends” were asshats.

They'd start over to tell Aaron hello, only to stop and give puzzled glances instead, as if seeing Aaron and Giles together altered the fabric of their world and they didn't like it. The shame-and-blames looked ready to have heart attacks.

Giles began to watch over his shoulder past every shadow, and if he and Aaron stayed out too late, he panicked all the way to the car.

Aaron was not amused.

“Giles—what is wrong with you?” Aaron chose to voice this complaint in the middle of the AMC Showplace 16 parking lot.

“Can we please have this argument in the car?”

“No.” Aaron folded his arms over his chest. “Tell me what's going on. If you're going to give me a complex, I want to know why.”

So many fucking shadows. Giles's chest went taut. “Aaron,
please
. I'll tell you
in the fucking car
.”

“Giles, what the hell is wrong?”

A shadow shifted. Grabbing Aaron with a yelp, Giles fumbled with his keys, his heart in his throat.

An elderly man shuffled away from a Buick, casting a curious glance over his shoulder. Giles let out a ragged, hollow sigh.

Aaron stepped in front of him, no longer angry, only concerned. “Giles?”

Fear, despair, rage swirled in a terrible cocktail—and broke Giles. “What's wrong?
They're going to hurt us.
They know you're gay, and so am I, and we're openly dating. Throwing it in their faces. They're going to hurt one or both of us,
and I can't stop it
.”

“Nobody is going to hurt us, Giles—”

“They already have.”

Self-preservation roused, trying to muzzle him, but Giles was too scared, too hurt, too angry. He closed the distance between them, lifted the long flap of hair by his ear, pushing it back to reveal his now-faded three-inch scar where hair wouldn't grow.

“Seventh grade. Ten stitches, trip to the ER, concussion.” He pulled his lip up and pointed to his row of implants on the top left of his mouth before removing his finger to speak. “Tenth grade. I had to wear a partial until my mouth healed enough for them to put the permanent fake teeth in. I don't have anything left of the broken arm or hand, but if you look close when I play the violin, you can see the way the ring finger of my left hand bends funny. That's when my mom went to the school board and showed them the video she'd taken in the hospital of me crying after the operation. She hired a lawyer and served them the legal bills and threatened to call the ACLU. They settled quietly out of court. Mom used the money to pay for college and buy me Henrietta.”

Aaron stared at him, stunned into immobility.

Tears burned Giles's eyes, and he blinked them away as he turned his head. “I can't stop them if they come for us. They hunt in packs, like dogs. They don't just call you fag. They take bats to your face. Don't give me crap about what they think not mattering, because
it matters when they try to kill you
.” The tears got the better of Giles, and he had to wipe his nose with his sleeve. “If they hurt you, I'd lose my mind. I'd rather get beatings every day for the rest of my life before I let them get you. I know from experience I don't have a prayer of holding them back.”

When Aaron took him into his arms, Giles jumped, so keyed up now he was spring-loaded. Aaron made shushing noises and drew him in close. “It's okay. You're okay, Giles.”

“Fourteen hundred hate crimes involving sexual orientation were reported in 2012. Over half of those instances were gay men. No other group comes close. And that's only what was
reported
.”

“Over three million people live in the Twin Cities alone. Even if all those hate crimes happened in Minneapolis-Saint Paul, your odds of escaping that fate are amazingly good.”

Giles dug his fingers into Aaron's jacket. “I've seen how they look at us, at
you
—”

“You don't behave this way at Saint Timothy. You don't freak out if we stay in the music building past nine at night, and I've seen you come from the parking lot with nothing but shadows around. You do get there's nothing protecting you more there than here, right? Maybe there are a few more people here who want to use you to live out their own idiocy, but you take precautions. You make yourself aware. You don't, though, let them rule your life.”

Intellectually Giles understood what Aaron said, but emotionally he couldn't let go. “What about Colton? Has he found out yet? He'll be pissed. He was the worst, always, he—”

“I don't give a
shit
about Colton. I assume he's heard by now, which is perfect. I'd love to never hear from him again.”

“But he'll demand a confrontation—”

“If Colton finds who I want to fuck so interesting, I'll explain the prostate to him.” When Giles tried to ramp back up, Aaron stopped him with a soft kiss. “You're not fifteen anymore, trapped in A-Hell, and neither are they. It's over. You survived. You won. You can stand down.”

Giles collapsed against the car, into Aaron as he pulled him close. “That's…what my mom says. I'm dangerous because I survived, because now I know they can't beat me that way.”

“Your mom is smart.”

Yes, but sometimes it still hurts.
Giles swallowed hard and exhaled a shuddering breath.