By His Rules Read online

  can’t burn the kind of calories you burned tonight on that

  kind of a diet. Now what kind do you want?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Keaton shot him a look.

  “Really! I like anything.”

  Keaton ordered him the Protein Powerhouse.

  On the car ride home, they discussed a production

  Keaton had seen of one of Aiden’s favorite plays. Aiden

  grilled him about how the lead actor had approached the

  role—a role Aiden dreamed of playing one day. Keaton

  role—a role Aiden dreamed of playing one day. Keaton

  enjoyed the discussion so much that he didn’t have the

  heart to nag Aiden about drinking his shake until they

  were almost home.

  “You’ve barely taken a sip.”

  “Look what I did to the straw.” Aiden held up the

  cup, grinning sheepishly. He’d chewed the end of the

  green plastic straw completely flat. “I can’t drink out of

  it.”

  “Then take the lid off.”

  Aiden shifted in his seat. “I hate drinking out of

  Styrofoam cups. I can’t do it without a lid.”

  Somebody does have a touch of brat in him, Keaton

  thought, smiling to himself. Maybe more than a touch.

  When they got home, Keaton poured Aiden’s

  smoothie into a tall glass with a straw and set it on the

  table in front of him. “Drink,” Keaton said.

  “I’m not—”

  “Drink,” Keaton repeated in the same calm, certain

  tone.

  Aiden’s face clouded. He took a few sips. Keaton

  brought up the play again, but Aiden no longer seemed

  interested in talking. He pushed the glass away, still

  more than two-thirds full. “I don’t feel well.”

  “You’ll feel worse if you don’t get some nutrients in

  you.”

  “You don’t know everything.” Aiden tipped the

  glass back and forth in his hand, watching the sludgy

  drink shift.

  “I know it won’t hurt you to drink that.”

  Aiden glowered. “I wish you’d mind your own

  business.”

  “That’s hard for me.”

  “No kidding.” Aiden took another sip, wincing.

  “No more,” he said, pushing it away.

  “At least half.”

  “Goddamn it!” Aiden picked up the glass and

  hurled it. It cracked into several large pieces on the

  kitchen floor, and chocolate-peanut-butter sludge coated

  the floor and the nearby wall.

  For a second, Aiden looked horrified, as though he

  couldn’t believe what he’d done. Every muscle in his

  body tensed, and he stared at the floor. His breathing

  became shallow, and he closed his eyes.

  First things first, thought Keaton. He’d worry about

  the mess later. He stepped behind Aiden’s chair and

  placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Aiden flinched,

  and Keaton ignored it. Keaton moved his thumbs firmly,

  slowly toward the base of Aiden’s neck, where he rubbed

  small circles, pressing deep into the knotted tissue.

  “Easy. You’re all right.”

  He felt the boy tense, relax, tense, relax—like a

  flickering lightbulb. Then Aiden slid out of his chair and

  bolted upstairs. Keaton decided to give him a couple of

  minutes before he went after him. He knelt on the floor

  and picked up the large pieces of broken glass, then

  sopped up the smoothie with paper towels. He headed

  upstairs.

  Aiden was gagging in the hall bathroom. Without

  knocking, Keaton opened the door and went in. Aiden

  was hunched over the toilet, bringing up strings of bile.

  Keaton hooked an arm around him, supporting him, and

  rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. Even when

  there was nothing left to throw up, Aiden continued to

  gag and choke.

  “That’s enough now,” Keaton said.

  Aiden gagged again.

  “Shh. Deep breath. You’re okay.” Keaton helped

  Aiden to the sink to rinse his mouth out, speaking

  soothingly to him. He wet a washcloth and wiped

  Aiden’s tear-streaked face. He felt how hard Aiden was

  trying to contain his sobs. “Let it out,” Keaton said. “It’s

  fine.” But Aiden tensed and fought harder for control.

  Keaton led him down the hall and into the guest room.

  He stripped the boy of his shirt and pants and got him

  into bed, pulling the covers over him. He sat on the edge

  of the bed, one hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “Breathe,”

  Keaton said.

  Aiden choked, tears still flowing from his red,

  swollen eyes.

  Keaton got up, intending to get the boy a glass of

  water, and was surprised when Aiden caught his wrist.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered.

  Warmth flooded Keaton. He sat back down on the

  bed. “I was just going to get you some water.”

  “Stay.”

  Keaton kicked off his shoes and got on the bed,

  propping himself up slightly with pillows. He shifted

  Aiden so the boy’s head rested in his lap. Aiden grabbed

  the fabric of Keaton’s pants with one hand as if to keep

  Keaton there. Keaton stroked Aiden’s hair, and after a

  few minutes, the boy quieted. His body stopped

  shaking, and some of the tension left his muscles. “That’s

  right,” Keaton said as Aiden drew a deep breath. “Good

  boy.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. Just rest.”

  Aiden lifted his head from Keaton’s lap and

  wriggled until his thin frame was pressed against the

  length of Keaton’s body, his head on Keaton’s shoulder.

  He tipped his face up so that his lips were inches from

  Keaton’s. Then he leaned in, closed his eyes, and kissed

  Keaton.

  The kiss was soft, brief, and chaste, but the contact

  jolted Keaton, and for an instant all he could think to do

  was pull Aiden against him and kiss him all night.

  Instead he wound an arm around the boy, cradling

  him, and brushed his lips against his forehead. “Rest,”

  he repeated.

  Aiden stroked Keaton’s chest through his shirt. “I

  should do something for you.”

  Keaton caught his hand gently, lacing his fingers

  through Aiden’s. “Not right now,” Keaton said, rubbing

  Aiden’s knuckles with his thumb.

  Aiden’s voice became very small. “Why don’t you

  want me? Am I really that bad now?”

  “That bad?” Keaton repeated, confused.

  “That ugly.” Aiden’s voice broke. He swiped his

  free hand over his eyes.

  “God no,” Keaton said, brushing the hair back from

  Aiden’s forehead. “You’re so beautiful, Aiden.”

  “Then why don’t you want me? I’m clean, if that’s

  what you’re worried about.”

  “It’s not.” Keaton paused. “Do you want me?”

  Aiden nodded.

  “Do you really want me, or do you just feel you

  owe me something? That I expect something from you?”

  Aiden met his eyes. “I really want you.”

  Aiden met his eyes. “I really want you.”

  Keaton sw
allowed. He pulled Aiden closer, tucked

  the boy’s head under his chin. “I want you too,” he said

  softly. “But I think you need time to heal.”

  “I’m fine,” Aiden insisted. “You can check if you

  want. Really.”

  Keaton winced. “I don’t just mean physically.”

  Aiden pulled away from Keaton. “Why does

  everyone think there’s something wrong with me?” he

  demanded. “I’m not fucking scarred for life. I knew what

  I was doing with Scott. Nothing happened that I didn’t

  ask for!”

  “What do you mean when you say ‘ask for’? You

  actually requested he do what he did to you? Or you feel

  you deserved it?”

  Aiden looked down. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

  “I said he could do whatever he wanted, and I’d take it. I

  said he could train me.”

  “But when you told him no, that night… ”

  “He fucking did it anyway.” Aiden’s voice was full

  of bitter hurt and confusion. “But he had a right to. It was

  part of the agreement.”

  “Look at me.” Keaton waited until he did. “Did

  you safe word?”

  “I… ”

  “Did you safe word?”

  Aiden swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Then he had absolutely no right to continue. None.

  Do you understand me?”

  Aiden closed his eyes. “But he… ”

  “Look at me.”

  Aiden opened his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been so…

  I was fighting him. On purpose. Usually I liked that kind

  of stuff. You know? Where I’d fight and he’d get pissed?”

  “Did you want to have sex that night? Did you want

  him to hit you?”

  “No. But I… I told him that I liked knowing he

  would, even if I didn’t want him to.”

  “Did you like it that night?”

  Aiden was silent for a moment. “No.”

  “That’s why you safe worded. And that’s why Scott

  should have stopped.”

  Aiden tried to roll away, but Keaton held on to him.

  “Leave me alone,” Aiden snapped.

  “Not a chance.” Keaton moved the pillows and

  stretched out alongside Aiden, spooning the boy against

  him. “We’re not going to do anything tonight but sleep,”

  he said. “You need it.”

  “You don’t know what I need,” Aiden muttered.

  But he didn’t resist anymore, and he nestled a little bit

  closer to Keaton.

  Keaton stroked his back until Aiden’s breathing

  evened out. “I think I have a pretty good idea,” he

  whispered to the sleeping boy.

  Chapter Twelve

  A wonderful smell filled the house when Aiden

  woke the next morning. He listened for a moment to the

  clink of dishes in the kitchen, the running water. He was

  surprised the smell of food didn’t make him sick. His

  stomach muscles felt less tight than usual. His head

  didn’t hurt. He didn’t have the sense of having just come

  out of a nightmare.

  He shut his eyes as the details of last night came

  back to him with alarming clarity. His refusal to drink

  the shake… the broken glass… what he’d revealed to

  Keaton about his relationship with Scott. He sighed,

  wondering if there was any way he could slip out the

  window, climb down the side of the house on a sheet

  rope, and escape.

  Except he didn’t want to escape. If Keaton was

  going to punish him for last night—and Aiden couldn’t

  imagine that Keaton wouldn’t—Aiden would take what

  he had coming. Because he felt safer in this house, with

  this man, than he could remember feeling in a long time.

  He got up, got dressed, and went downstairs.

  Keaton had two enormous waffles stacked on a plate,

  and was removing a third from the waffle iron.

  “That smells amazing,” Aiden said.

  Keaton turned and grinned at him. “My secret

  every-other-Saturday-morning indulgence.”

  “What’s in them? They smell like—”

  “Banana and chopped pecans.”

  “Wow.”

  “You hungry?”

  “Sort of,” Aiden admitted. He watched Keaton,

  waiting for him to make some comment about last night.

  Keaton nudged one of the waffles onto a smaller

  plate and handed it to Aiden.

  “Butter and syrup are on the table.”

  “You’re trying to make me fat,” Aiden accused with

  a weak laugh.

  “It’ll take more than a waffle to put some flesh on

  those ribs.”

  Aiden tensed, remembering Scott’s comments about

  his body. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Scott had

  asked, trailing his nails down Aiden’s chest. “I don’t even

  want to fuck you, you scrawny whore…”

  “Aiden?” Keaton was watching him. “You all

  right?”

  Aiden tried to smile. “Fine.”

  He was struggling to find a way to apologize for

  the previous night when Keaton shocked him by saying,

  “I’m sorry about last night.”

  “What are you sorry for?” Aiden asked,

  incredulous. “I’m the one who was awful.”

  “I’m sorry I tried to force you to drink that shake

  when you weren’t feeling well.”

  Aiden drizzled syrup on his waffle. “I was a shit. I

  shouldn’t have thrown the glass.”

  “No. But you were angry and stressed, and you had

  a right to be. I don’t mean to be so pushy. I just worry

  about you.”

  “Why?” Aiden was genuinely curious.

  Keaton turned off the waffle iron, wiped his hands

  on a dish towel, and leaned against the counter. “I guess

  because you don’t seem to worry enough about

  yourself.”

  “Oh.” Aiden took a bite of his waffle. It tasted good,

  and the warmth of it was pleasant in his stomach.

  “And because I like you.”

  Aiden nearly inhaled his waffle. Calm down, he

  told himself. He didn’t say he loved you. He didn’t say

  he wanted to marry you. He doesn’t even want to fuck

  you. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

  “It’s very plain that you’re intelligent and talented,

  that you’ve got a lot of potential.”

  Darkness crept over Aiden. Scott had thought he

  had potential too. The potential to suck cock, lick boots,

  and spread his legs on command.

  He forced himself to eat almost half the waffle. It

  tasted good, but his stomach was already churning after

  a couple of bites.

  “Do you have plans to do any more theater in the

  area?” Keaton asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “The community college does a couple of plays in

  the spring. I know you said the other night you wanted

  to move to a city where you could find work as an actor.

  But if you’re still around this spring, that might be an

  option.”

  “Yeah. It’s kind of hard to figure out what to do

  next. I mean, I’m not moving anywhere until I’ve saved

  some money. Which means I need a job. Fast.” Aiden

 
took another bite of his waffle. “I’ve been thinking about

  graduate school,” he admitted, staring at his plate. He

  wondered if Keaton felt the same way about going to

  grad school for theater as Scott.

  “Really? An MFA program?”

  “Does that sound stupid?”

  “Why would it sound stupid?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Scott said it was a waste of time.

  But it’s not like I’d lose any money if I got into a good

  program. They’d pay my tuition and a stipend.”

  Keaton sat at the table and started to cut his own

  waffle. “That sounds great. What programs are you

  looking at?”

  “Um, UC Irvine and Case Western. And maybe

  State. That’s where I did my undergrad. I’d really like to

  go to Case.”

  “What do you like about it?”

  “They have a partnership with the Cleveland

  Playhouse, so MFA students get to work with a

  professional theater. And I kind of like Cleveland. I’ve

  been there a couple of times. I don’t think it’s as bad as

  everyone says.”

  “It has a— unique charm.” Keaton grinned. “I’ve got

  a friend who teaches at Cleveland State, which is pretty

  near Case. They’ve been trying to hire a new art faculty

  member. He keeps pestering me to apply.”

  “Are you going to?” Aiden asked.

  Keaton shrugged. “I don’t know. My gut usually

  tells me when it’s time for a change, and it’s been

  nagging me for a few months now. I’ll at least finish out

  my year here.”

  “Would it be hard to sell the house?”

  “I rent, actually. I’ve got a very cool landlady, who

  lets me do things like paint the guest room strange

  colors.”

  “Yeah.” Aiden looked at the floor.

  “So are you applying to schools this year?”

  “I don’t know. I started some applications, but… ”

  “But?”

  “But maybe it is a waste of time. I mean, I don’t

  even have the money for application fees right now. And

  the deadlines are coming up, and I just—I don’t feel—

  ready.”

  Keaton nodded. “I see.”

  “I’d have to audition too. I might audition for Case

  in person, since it’s not that far away. Then send video

  auditions to the other schools. I just haven’t spent much

  time working on monologues lately.”

  “You’ve got time.”

  “Maybe.” Aiden didn’t want to talk about this

  anymore. “I’m going out for a while,” he said. “Thanks