Beautifully Complicated (Front Range University #4)

10. Aiden

Chapter ten

Aiden

W hat’s the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result?

I guess that means I’m losing my mind.

Day after day I go to work for Kier, researching and testing machine learning algorithms. But it’s not this analysis that’s repetitive. It’s sitting in the room with Kier, pretending like I’m immune to his proximity. Like my spirit isn’t crushed each time he gives me something to do without looking me in the eye, as if we’re nothing more than work associates.

I know that’s all we’re supposed to be, but that’s not all we are. It never will be. Not unless we could somehow erase that night. And I’d rather suffer through these torturous hours for eternity, pretending my body doesn’t crave his with a need so visceral it literally shakes, than delete it from my memory.

Still, I can’t deny that each time I set foot in this room, I hope for a different result. I hope today will be the one his eyes finally meet mine. Or his fingers brush affectionately against my skin. Hell, I’d even settle for a smile, whether it’s directed at me or not. Anything other than the vacant, expressionless mask he forces himself to wear around me.

Foot bouncing under the desk, I hunch over the keyboard, typing. Though my body is high-strung, my mind is surprisingly calm. I love what I’m doing, which is probably the only reason I haven’t tipped into a full-blown breakdown. Numbers bring me purpose, help me focus, so that the need to scream in frustration and despair fades, and I momentarily forget that my life is so bleak.

That more often than not, I go through the entire day without talking to a single other person.

Five out of six of my roommates are consumed with classes and football right now—even though Bennet’s technically still recovering from an injury he’s still at practices—and the sixth works just like I do. Our schedules don’t line up very well, and even when we’re all home, I go out of my way to stay in my room, so I don’t have to watch three happy couples cuddled on the couch while I sit by myself, like a little island. I’m not even avoiding Bennet and Damien specifically; I’m avoiding anything that might serve as a stark reminder of what I don’t have.

As for work and classes, they’re pretty solitary activities, so I don’t even have to isolate myself if I don’t feel like talking. I can slip into and out of class without socializing if I’m not in the mood to chat, which I do more often than not since I’m not sure I can muster the energy to sound happy.

That wasn’t always the case. I used to exchange pleasantries with my classmates. Talk shop about the things we’re learning. Occasionally, I still do, but mostly I just sit at the desk, take my notes, and leave. Besides, Kier is the best person for me to talk to about what I’m learning or working on, and he limits his communication to emails. Even if we’re sitting in the same room. He’d rather write a message than engage in any dialogue.

Speaking of, a notification pops up on my screen that I’ve got a new one, so I click into it and read that Kier is providing me with a sample gait to use in my work. There’s an attachment containing the LEGSys analysis of a stride that he’d like me to teach my algorithm to recognize.

Theoretically, the algorithm should recognize and differentiate between different gait patterns to adapt to the one the wearer is using at that moment. A leisurely stroll, a brisk walk, etcetera. The goal is to have the prosthetic seamlessly adjust to the user to maintain a natural stride.

It’s an exciting assignment, the kind of thing I envisioned doing when I learned about this field and decided to focus on it, yet I sigh heavily as I read his instructions. What I wouldn’t give to talk to him about this instead of getting these impersonal emails.

The soft click of a door latching shut tells me someone has entered the room, and the way my skin pebbles tells me it’s Kier. I don’t even have to look up to confirm it.

Every once in a while someone else will use this lab, but more often than not it’s just the two of us in here. Sitting at our desks, staring at our workstations, not even acknowledging the other. It’s so uncomfortable yet so routine my body seems to recognize when Kier’s the person in the room simply by the way it tenses and hums with a restless energy.

So far, I’ve been able to expel that energy with subtle movements. Rubbing my fingers together, chewing my lip, bouncing my foot. It gets harder every day though, the buildup of tension mounting. I’m afraid of what might happen when there’s no room left to store it. Will I knock my papers off the desk? Kick the chair? Scream?

Only time will tell.

The scrape of a chair sliding over the tile floor echoes around the room, once as it’s pulled out, the other as it scoots in.

My nerves twitch with the urge to turn and look at him, but I force my head to remain facing forward. If I look, I’ll stare. And if I stare, I might break down. So, I dutifully peck away at the keyboard while my heart thumps a nervous beat in my chest, just like…

I stifle a gasp as I press my hand to that fitful organ.

“Can you feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest?” I whisper breathlessly, my body flush with Kier’s as we both try to come down from our orgasms.

“Can you feel mine?”

Going still, I’m able to hear the rhythmic thumping. “Yes.”

The memory is so vivid it’s like I’m still in that hotel room. Still laying on top of Kier as we try to process the intensity of the moment, and realizing as he held me that nothing had ever felt as right as being in his arms.

God this hurts. Will there ever be a time that it doesn’t feel like my chest is splayed open?

“Aiden!”

My head snaps up when I hear my name, the blurry room slowly coming into focus. I’m a little disoriented, which is jarring to say the least, but not nearly as shocking as the fact Kier is standing less than two feet away, eyes wide with… panic ?

“Yeah?” I croak.

“What happened?” Is his voice shaking?

“What do you mean?”

“You tell me. You gasped and then froze, and then sort of slumped like you were about to faint.” Kier’s icy blue eyes have lost their alarmed edge, but they still regard me warily, as if he’s not sure I’m in the clear. His worry floods my body with a warmth I haven’t felt since… Since that night in his room, when he made me feel alive.

“I—” my hand moves from my chest to my forehead, probing, “—don’t know.” The last thing I remember is… not something I want to share with him. So, I play dumb.

“You don’t know? Are you sick?” Kier’s hand seems to stretch toward my arm before he abruptly pulls it back, and even though we don’t touch, my arm tingles where he would have made contact.

“I don’t think so.”

“Hungry? When was the last time you ate?”

I shake my head to clear the fog. “This morning?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” A wavy line mars his forehead as his gaze skims over me, and I momentarily forget the question, his beautiful face so close it consumes every thought.

“I don’t know,” I finally answer.

I’m pretty sure I did eat this morning, but that was hours ago, and I have no memory of what I may have consumed. The only thing I remember right now is feeling like I was transported back to that hotel room right before everything went fuzzy, and I am not going to admit that to Kier.

“Stay here,” he says softly, striding across the room to get a cup of water from the dispenser by the door, and setting it on the desk in front of me. “Drink.”

Hand shaking slightly, I reach for the water and bring it to my lips, keenly aware of the fact Kier’s eyes seem to linger there while I sip. I almost wish I didn’t notice, since that makes my heart give another erratic little beat.

“You look exhausted. You should take the rest of the day off. Do you have anyone who could come get you? One of your roommates?”

I shake my head curtly.

“Are you still having a problem with one of them?” Is that concern I hear in his voice?

My eyes snap to his. “You remember that?”

He averts his gaze as he says, “I remember you were avoiding one of them for some reason. Are you still?”

This is the last thing I want to be talking about with Kier, but we are talking, so I lick my lips and nod. “Not for the thing that happened before, right around when I met you, but yeah.”

“Are you, um, in danger or anything?” Kier glances nervously at me before looking away again.

“No. Bennet would never hurt me. Not physically.”

“He has though? Hurt you?” There’s a growly edge to Kier’s voice that doesn’t match the skittish way he’s avoiding my eyes.

“Not intentionally.”

“How do you unintentionally hurt someone?”

“By being oblivious to my feelings and dating someone else,” I snort, slapping a hand over my mouth as soon as the words are out.

I can’t believe I just admitted that. I blame my… I blame Kier. Words just spill out of my mouth when I’m around him.

Kier’s still not looking at me when I find the courage to look at him, but his lips are moving slightly, in the absent-minded way I’ve come to realize they do when he’s thinking. Doing math. Then his jaw seems to tense.

“You were hung up on someone else when we met.”

“I—thought I was, yeah.” I sip my water, the sound of my swallowing the only noise in the room for a beat.

“So, I was a rebound?”

Is he…jealous?

“You were the reason I figured out what I felt for Bennet was appreciation that I misinterpreted as something more.”

“Meaning?”

I worry my lip while I search for the right words. “Before you he was the only other person who made me feel seen. But not in the same way. He’s a popular jock who accepted that I’m a gay nerd, and because of his example other people accepted me. I had a hero worship thing going on as a result. I was a little infatuated. Only I thought it was something more.”

“And you realized you misinterpreted that how?”

Fuck it. This all started because I said I wouldn’t hide my feelings if I was into someone, I’m not going to back down now. “Because it’s not even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

Kier squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath for a count of three. “Aiden—”

“I know. But you asked. And anyway, it’s the truth.”

He nods almost imperceptibly, acknowledging but not agreeing with me. “That night was intense, I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but remember why it happened in the first place. You knew who I was. You’d been following my work. How do you know what you feel now isn’t rooted in the same kind of hero worship you just admitted you misinterpreted once before?”

The question stings even though it’s a fair one. What’s worse, I’m not even sure I can give him an answer he’ll accept since it’s all based on feelings, and we’re trained to rely on facts. Still, I may never get another chance, so I give it a try.

“Before we met, I admired your work. I thought you were brilliant, and yes, I found you attractive, but I wouldn’t characterize it as hero worship. You were a model for my career aspirations, nothing more. And yes, I asked to buy you that drink because you’re someone I admire, but everything that happened after that was a result of two people making an organic connection. I’ll admit to being a little shocked that someone as brilliant and accomplished as you was interested in me, but I’m not confusing how I feel about Kier the bio-mechatronics expert and Kier the man because only one of them was in the room that night. That’s how I know my feelings aren’t being misinterpreted.”

I hold my breath, waiting to see how he’ll respond. And for several, agonizing minutes, he doesn’t. Then he looks at me with tortured eyes. “I needed to hear that, but at the same time I wish I didn’t know the truth because—”

“Because it doesn’t change anything,” I finish for him.

He shakes his head slowly.

“Even knowing why you lied, why you can trust your feelings this time around, there’s a clear conflict of interest here,” he says.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I hate how desperate I sound.

“For me, my reputation might take a bit of a hit. I’d never teach again, but I could find another job. For you, you might not get to that first job. Maybe you don’t even graduate.”

“You’re not even technically my teacher.” My voice is so soft even I can barely hear it.

“But I am a mentor, so you’d be accused of getting special treatment, even if it weren’t true. That stigma would follow you, make people question why they should hire you, and my recommendation would mean nothing.”

“Even after I graduate? Wouldn’t things be different then?” My damp eyes find his equally defeated ones.

“I don’t know the answer to that. Depending on whether you go for a masters, go straight into a job… There are too many factors to say for sure.”

I have so many objections to make, all of which I know are futile, because he’s right. Nothing changes, no matter how much we might wish otherwise. It’s so disheartening I can’t even find my voice. All I can do is nod.

“Take the afternoon off. Get some rest.” He sounds as tired as I feel. “It’s going to be a long year.”