Aria (21 page)

T
HE next day was Friday, and Aiden knew Sam had to be at the office early, so he slept in late. He figured he could go for a run later, maybe practice if he felt like it. He’d been going nonstop since London. He had three weeks at home, so he wasn’t worried. He had no new roles to learn that he hadn’t already been working his ass off on, and he figured he could take a couple of days and goof off. He could think of a few ways to do that, with Sam’s help.

With this thought, Aiden let his hand slip beneath his briefs to his cock. Sam wouldn’t be home soon enough to take care of his morning erection, so he pushed his underwear down, grabbed the lube out of the bedside cabinet, and slicked up his hand. It was easy to imagine Sam sucking him off—he could still smell Sam’s lingering scent on the sheets. He brought Sam’s pillow to his nose and inhaled.

It didn’t take long before he was coming, moaning his release. He dragged himself out of bed a few minutes later, wiped his belly with a towel, and tossed it into the hamper. He pulled his briefs up from his hips and splashed some cold water on his face, which was still flushed from orgasm, and he grinned back at his reflection.

He walked out of the bedroom toward the kitchen, figuring he’d make some coffee. The last thing he expected was to run into someone—a woman—in the hallway.

“Becca?” He almost didn’t recognize Sam’s sister. Her hair was a bright candy-apple red. She had an eyebrow piercing he didn’t remember from Thanksgiving, and she was wearing kohl eyeliner, a black tank top, faded jeans, and Dr. Martens. Good thing he was surprised, or he’d have probably laughed. He’d known a few kids from high school who’d dressed like that. What was she? Twenty? Twentyone?

“Oh, hey, Aiden. I forgot you were coming back. Sammy said something about it yesterday, but it slipped my mind.”
Aiden tried to wrap his brain around her words. “I didn’t know you were visiting.” He felt suddenly self-conscious. He was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.
Shit.
The smile on her face faded.
“Everything okay?” he asked. He was missing something big here, but he was
so
not up to dealing with anyone before his morning cup of coffee. His brain felt like mush.
“He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Tell me what?”
She bit her lower lip, then said, “I’m going to be living with you guys for a few months. At least until I can get into graduate housing in August.”
Aiden did the math. That was more than two months away, at least.
Sam asked her to stay for two
months
and didn’t even mention it?
He rubbed his face to cover his deep inhalation, releasing the tension he could already feel building in his jaw. Damn good thing he could act.
“Oh,” he said. He schooled his features so that his face appeared calm, controlled, even pleasant. Inside, however, the anger and hurt were slowly building. He needed caffeine, or he’d lose it.
This isn’t her fault
.
“You look like you could use some coffee.” She smiled. “I made some. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” She poured him a cup, and he silently thanked the coffee gods that the coffee was dark. He didn’t think he could get through this on an American brew.
“So where are you going to school?” he asked after he’d finished his second cup. He was starting to feel a bit more human now. At least he was fully dressed, having gone back to his room and thrown on some sweats. He knew none of this was Becca’s fault. Still, he could feel the anger building toward a crescendo. He needed to keep talking.
“Temple,” she said. “I got a fellowship in biomedical engineering. The parental units weren’t too thrilled, so Sammy offered to put me up.” She leaned over to him and said in a feigned whisper, “I didn’t want to stay in Memphis for the summer, and they close the dorms right after finals.”
She hadn’t wanted to live with her parents for the summer. He understood the feeling. The summer after his first year at Indiana, he’d bounced from couch to couch to avoid going back to Mississippi. By the summer after his sophomore year, he’d gotten an apprenticeship in Central City, Colorado, and been given room and board in exchange for singing.
“How long are you home for?”
“Three weeks. Then I’m back in Europe for almost two months.” Not a topic Aiden wanted to think about, only now he wasn’t so sure going back to Europe sounded all that bad.
Better than dealing with Sam.
“Oh,” she said. “That must be hard for you guys.”
Understatement of the century.
Shit, but he didn’t want to talk about this, not with her, of all people. He glanced at the clock. “Damn. I didn’t realize it was so late. I told a friend I’d meet her for lunch.” It was bullshit, but he figured Becca didn’t know he was lying. Or that he didn’t have any friends in Philly. Or that he was pissed as hell with Sam and feeling like shit.
“No problem. I’m working tonight. But maybe we can all do something together tomorrow afternoon. Do some sightseeing or go to a movie?”
“Sounds great.”
He got up from the barstool and retreated to his room. A half an hour later, he waved to her as he left the apartment. He had no idea what he was going to do for the next six hours.

S
AM looked at the clock again: 7:00 p.m. He and Aiden had talked about an early dinner and catching some music downtown. He’d tried calling Aiden’s cell about a dozen times, but he only got voice mail. “Hey, Aiden. I’m home. Looking forward to dinner at Vinnie’s. Stacey said they’ve got a jazz trio playing at Nighttown starting around nine. She says they’re supposed to be really good. Call me.” He hoped he didn’t sound too worried. It wasn’t as though Aiden needed a babysitter.

By eight, Sam was pacing in the living room. He’d called Cary in Milan and David in London, succeeding only in leaving lame messages asking if either of them had heard from Aiden.

The guy lives with you, and the only two people you know to call are in Europe?
It was absurd, and he knew it. He was half-tempted to find Aiden’s parents online and call them too. Only the realization that he had no idea how to explain that he was looking for Aiden stopped him from looking up the Linds. Then again, if his own parents had seen the tabloid photo, maybe the Linds had, as well. That pretty much decided it for him: he’d wait.

By the time he heard the key in the front lock, it was nearly ten. Sam’s relief at seeing Aiden safe and sound turned to anger nearly as quickly. “Where the hell were you?” he demanded.

Aiden’s expression was hard. “Out” was all he said as he walked past Sam toward their bedroom.
“What the hell… Aiden, where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m tired.”
Sam grabbed Aiden’s upper arm and turned him around. “Don’t just walk away.”
“Why the hell not?”
Aiden’s response took Sam aback. He saw the raw anger on Aiden’s face. For the first time that night, Sam’s brain kicked in. “You’re angry with me.”
“I’m surprised you noticed. I’m beginning to think I’m only window dressing. You know, the boyfriend you can show off to friends but who doesn’t ask anything of you.”
“What are you talking about, Aiden? I lo—”
“Don’t even go there, Sam. This isn’t about whether you love me or not. It’s about what you think about me. About
us
.”
“What’s happened?” Sam racked his brain for the reason Aiden was about to bite his head off. “I know last night was a bit rough, but I thought we’d moved past that. Then today—”
“When were you going to tell me? When she’d been living here a
month
?”
“Oh, fuck.”
Aiden’s laugh was a knife’s edge. He shook his head and blew out air from between tense lips. Sam could see the pain glitter in his eyes. “You know, I was hoping I wasn’t right—that you actually thought about asking me. Not that I’d have minded her living here. Hell, I like Becca. But I’m not supposed to be a fucking
guest
, Sam. This is my home too.”
“Aiden.” Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw. He felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Worse, he totally deserved to feel like that. He
was
that big an asshole. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe… you’re right, of course. I fucked up. Big-time.” It stung to see that look on Aiden’s face. Aiden, who’d done nothing but try to make this relationship work. Who was willing to work less so he could be home more often.
“It’s okay.”
The words were a blow to Sam’s gut. Of course it wasn’t okay. But what could he say to that?
I’m really sorry
was all he could think of.
“Look, Sam,” Aiden said. “I’m beat. Can we talk about this in the morning? I should get some sleep.”
“Sure. Of course. You’re probably jet-lagged and—”
“Good night, Sam.” Aiden walked down the hallway, and a moment later Sam heard the bedroom door close.
Sam stood there for a good five minutes, unsure of what to do. Waiting—hoping—for Aiden to come back. To tell him he forgave him for being such an inconsiderate shit. But Aiden didn’t come back out, and Sam finally decided to get a beer from the fridge.
When he climbed into bed after midnight, he hoped Aiden might wake up, that maybe they’d sleep like they usually did, spooned against each other. But if Aiden did wake up, he made no move to touch Sam. The bed felt far too big, bigger even than when Aiden was traveling.

A
IDEN woke up before sunrise, jet-lagged. What time would it be in Europe now? Almost lunchtime? He hadn’t slept well.
No surprise there.
He’d spent most of the night arguing with himself about whether he should have apologized to Sam when he’d come to bed. Instead, he’d pretended to be asleep.
So much for maturity.

Yeah, he was still angry with Sam. But Sam had done what he’d hoped Sam would do: he’d apologized. He hadn’t made excuses. Aiden knew Sam had been miserable to realize his mistake, and Aiden had been too tired to talk about things. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was happy to have Becca stay with them, either. So why did he still feel like shit this morning?

A
IDEN wasn’t in bed when Sam woke up. He glanced over at the clock. It was nearly ten.
Shit.
Too late for the open-air market; it’d be a zoo by now. He dragged himself out of bed and threw on a robe, then made his way to the kitchen.

“Morning, sunshine.” Becca and Aiden were seated at the counter, drinking coffee. “Mr. Wonderful here made pecan pancakes. There’s a few left in the oven.”

“Thanks.”
“Coffee’s still hot.”
Sam met Aiden’s gaze but saw nothing there. It was worse this

way, Sam decided. At least if Aiden was angry, he might be able to talk to him. But acting as if nothing had happened?
He wouldn’t bring it up in front of Becca, anyhow. He wouldn’t want to involve her in this.

“Great.” He filled a coffee cup, pulled a few pancakes from the oven, and plopped them onto a plate.
Becca smiled and passed him the maple syrup. “Gotta run, boys. I’ve got the night off if you want to have dinner.” She made the sign of a phone with her hand then left them alone.
“Aiden, I’m so—” His words were cut short by Aiden’s lips.
“I know.” Aiden wrapped his arms around Sam and drew him close. Sam nearly sighed with relief. “But you knew we were going to end up fighting sooner or later. Every couple fights sometimes, right?”
Sam didn’t know what to say.
Aiden frowned and stepped back toward the counter, then leaned against it. “Sam? Didn’t you and Nick ever fight?”
Had they? Sam struggled to remember. “I guess so. It was a long time ago. But it doesn’t matter,” he added quickly. “The point is that I fucked up.”
You’re doing great here. Open mouth, insert foot.
“Right.” Aiden smiled. Sam was beginning to recognize that particular smile, and it made him nervous. It was like a mask, something Sam imagined Aiden might use when greeting his public after a performance. He hated that smile.

I
N THE end they spent the afternoon at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Sam had only been a few times since he’d moved to Philly, and Aiden had expressed an interest in seeing some of the new acquisitions in the museum’s collection of European paintings. Sam figured it would be a good distraction from the tension at home, although Becca had had the good sense to stay away. He would thank her later—after he’d apologized to Aiden a few dozen more times.