realizes what a fucking mess of miscommunication they’ve always been. “I sort of pictured you having this like big desk drawer where you just throw unopened boxes I gave you. Then once a year recycling comes and takes them out.”
Something flickers on Alejandro’s face, and Avery sits up a little straighter, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Do you have one?”
Alejandro sighs, probably because he knows Avery’s relentless and won’t stop until he gets a straight answer. “Not for the things you give me. I…” He swallows. “We both know I’m a bit of a bastard.”
Avery makes a soft noise of protest, but Alejandro holds up a hand and shakes his head.
“No, I am. I made the same mistake with Connor. Everything was a bit impersonal, and I was well aware at how bad it was. I just…it was easier.”
Avery frowns because he’s not sure what he’s talking about.
“In my office, I’ve a drawer where I keep things that my secretary buys for you. She’ll shop a few times a week, and I store them for when”—he clears his throat again—“for when we meet for dinner.”
Avery bites the inside of his cheek because wow, yeah. It does hurt. And yet, the fact that Alejandro is just flailing softens the blow, and he reaches out to curl a hand around the back of his neck. “You got me cheap British chocolate.”
Alejandro’s shoulders sink. “I did, that.”
“It was good. It was better than American chocolate.”
Alejandro laughs at that and shakes his head. “I’ll do better,” he says after a moment, and Avery’s heart skips a beat because it’s closer to a promise than he’s ever gotten.
He says nothing. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment, so he sits back and lets himself get all jittery with anticipation as they pull into the shopping center parking lot. Alejandro of course opts for valet, and he grabs the bag he always carries with him before handing the keys over.
Avery stands at the curb, his eyes taking it all in, and he feels something uncomfortable wedged in his gut. It’s the most posh, hoity-toity ice-skating rink Avery has ever seen. The crowd is full of expensive coats and designer bags. Men who look like younger versions of Alejandro walking beside their spouses, their hands clinging to their perfectly dressed, tow-headed children. They’re all decked out in pastels and plaids, and he knows what they think when they look at him. And he knows what they’re going to think when Alejandro takes his hand.
It’ll be obvious. It’ll be obvious that he doesn’t belong, that Alejandro is paying him to be there, that he was never meant to exist in a world like this. It’ll be obvious this is all pretend, and that it’s probably going to end soon.
He doesn’t realize he’s panicking until Alejandro is reaching for him, and Avery resists until Alejandro curls both hands around his cheeks, which makes the situation that fucking much more ridiculous. He looks like a man trying to soothe his spoiled child—and in a weird, fucked-up way, that’s what this is.
“We can go,” Alejandro says.
Avery shakes his head against his sugar daddy’s grip and bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
With a frown, Alejandro strokes his cheeks then presses a gloved hand against Avery’s in a tight squeeze. “Think about what? We can leave if you want. I don’t care what we’re doing today, Avery. I just wanted to spend time with you.”
And well, if that doesn’t soften the blow. “People will figure it out, you know?”
Alejandro blinks. “Sorry?”
“Us. This.” He waves his hand loosely between them and hangs his head low, staring at his feet. “They’ll take one look at you, and they’ll know you’re my sugar daddy.”
Alejandro cocks his head to the side, and Avery kind of assumes he’s going to say that they won’t, but instead he just laughs. “Of course they will. But you’ve never cared before.”
What he doesn’t point out is that it’s true. It doesn’t matter how he feels, or how he thinks Alejandro might feel the same way, it’s still true. Avery is his paid companion, and he has been for a year. He just didn’t expect it to matter so much.
“I’m being an idiot.”
“Well,” Alejandro says, then he tugs Avery until they’re both standing up on the sidewalk, and he cups his cheek and kisses him, “I like you when you’re an idiot.”
He blushes. Hard. He’s kind of loopy on serotonin, and it’s that which allows him to follow