Melting - Sean Ashcroft Page 0,10

in his life. He didn’t need that.

“He said we might get along, I told him I could take you out, show you around town, that kind of thing. He bet me a full day of borrowing the Buick if I could get you to set foot in a gay club,” I added. I couldn’t risk him finding out about that later, either.

Not if I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he’d already been hurt.

Hayden wrinkled his nose, sipping his coffee.

Yeah. Definitely more of a challenge than I’d anticipated.

“I make a great wingman, for what it’s worth,” I added, hoping to sweeten the deal. “And I know where all the prettiest boys hang out.”

He snorted. “I don’t think the prettiest boys are interested,” he said. “But, uh. If I’m not gonna be in the way at dinner…”

My heart lit up.

Okay, maybe I hadn’t cracked him open like a coconut yet, but this was a start. This was a good start.

“It’d be great to have a new face around the table,” I said. “Seriously, let me introduce you to some people, show you some of what the place has to offer. You moved out, like…”

“Ten years ago,” Hayden said.

“Right, well, stuff’s changed in that time. Trust me. It’s not the quaint little sleepy town it used to be. I mean, it’s not New York, but…”

“You like it here,” Hayden said, a tiny smile ghosting over his lips.

Pretty lips. They were even prettier in person.

“I do,” I admitted. “I grew up a few towns over, Mom still—uh, you don’t wanna hear my life story. Point is, I do like it here. I feel lucky that I get to live here, and my friends are a big part of that. If you hate them, I’ll bring you home the second you tell me to, no questions. Deal?”

“Deal,” Hayden said.

It felt like getting a call to say I’d won the goddamn lottery. Or at least, it felt like how I imagined getting that call would feel like. I’d never actually bought a lottery ticket.

“I’ll drop back in to pick you up at six,” I promised. “You won’t regret this.”

6

Hayden

I already regretted agreeing to go to dinner tonight.

Wes had been so bright and enthusiastic and hopeful that I couldn’t say no to him, but now that I’d had time to consider my mistake, I was dreading it.

Not least of all because I had no idea what to wear.

Marissa: there’s a pair of black skinny jeans in your suitcase

She’d been giving me outfit advice for the past twenty minutes, and between the smell of fresh paint in this room and the anxiety of not knowing how to dress and meeting an unknown number of new people, I was getting a headache.

Hayden: They don’t fit, why did you pack them?

Marissa: they do fit, they’re the only pair you own that fit properly. You’ve got a cute butt! Show it off.

I sifted through the contents of my suitcase—dumped out on the new double bed with the fresh, clean sheets—until I found the jeans in question.

Aaron hated these.

Maybe that was as good a reason as any to wear them.

Maybe that was why, when Marissa had come to say goodbye, she’d repacked my entire suitcase for me.

There were a lot of clothes in here that Aaron didn’t like. These jeans. The leather jacket I’d bought in college and worn once—the only jacket I had with me now—a couple of button-downs that she’d say fitted perfectly but I’d say were too small…

I should’ve checked before I left.

Hayden: Fine. I’ll wear the jeans.

Marissa: YES

Marissa: the pretty boys will flock to you, promise

I wasn’t so sure about that, but as I slid the fabric up over my ass, I remembered what I liked about these. They were comfortably worn because I’d had them since college, too, and honestly, it was a surprise they still fit at all.

… or not.

I couldn’t quite get the button closed. It was only a matter of a fraction of an inch, but it felt like the biggest fraction of an inch ever.

These had fit me last time I tried them on. A year and a half ago, maybe.

When Aaron had scoffed at me, told me I wasn’t a teenager anymore, and made me take them off before he’d be seen in public with me.

These jeans were going on. They did fit, I just couldn’t quite get the button in place. My own fingers were getting in the way.

Dammit.

It was the principle of the thing. These were going