Part 17: The Way He Looks at Me
It started with a message.
Aaron rarely checked his socials, but that day, something made him swipe through.
An old buddy had reached out — Mark. They'd worked construction together years ago. Drank cheap beer, hit bars, shared stories about girls they'd never call again.
Now Mark was back in town. Wanted to grab a drink. "Catch up like old times."
Aaron hesitated.
He glanced across the room — Eli was curled up on the couch in one of his black sleeveless tanks, legs folded underneath him, painted toes tapping softly to music. Effortlessly soft. Undeniably pretty.
Aaron walked over and sat beside him.
"Wanna come with me?" he asked.
Eli tilted his head. "To meet your friend?"
Aaron nodded. "He might look at you weird."
Eli's lips curved. "Then let him."
They met at a bar. Low light. Wood booths. Sports on the walls.
Mark was already halfway through his drink.
When he saw Aaron, he lit up — gruff handshake, loud clap on the back.
Then his eyes flicked past him.
Saw Eli.
And blinked.
Twice.
Eli stepped in close beside Aaron, offering a calm, quiet smile. He wore slim jeans, a soft black crop hoodie, and lip balm that caught the light when he smiled.
Mark cleared his throat. "So… this your sister or somethin'?"
Aaron looked at him square in the eye.
"No. This is Eli."
Eli extended a hand. "Hi."
Mark hesitated — then shook it, cautiously.
He sat down first.
Aaron and Eli took the booth opposite him — Eli sliding in close, thigh brushing Aaron's under the table.
Mark kept glancing over. Trying to hide it. Failing.
After some awkward back-and-forth, Mark said it:
"So… what's the deal?"
Aaron leaned back. "He lives with me."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Eli sipped his drink and said, without looking up, "I'm not his girlfriend, if that's what you're fishing for."
Mark looked to Aaron, then back to Eli. "You serious?"
Aaron's tone dropped. "Does it matter?"
Mark raised both hands. "Hey. Just saying, you used to be the guy who nearly broke a guy's jaw for saying you looked soft. Now you've got a… what, a pretty boy in your bed?"
Eli turned to Aaron with a faint smirk. "Want me to leave?"
Aaron didn't even glance at him.
He reached under the table and placed a firm hand on Eli's knee.
"No," he said. "You stay."
Then, to Mark:
"I'm still that guy. Just don't need to prove it anymore."
Mark blinked. "So… what is this?"
Aaron didn't smile.
But he didn't flinch either.
"This is mine."
The rest of the evening passed with tension crackling like static between them. Mark didn't push again. Eli didn't flinch. And Aaron… just was.
Unapologetic.
Straight.
Dominant.
And completely unbothered by how anyone made sense of it.
Later, in the car, Eli leaned against the window and whispered, "You didn't have to defend me."
Aaron kept one hand on the wheel.
The other reached across and rested on Eli's thigh.
"I wasn't defending you," he said. "I was defending us."
Eli didn't speak again.
He just laid his hand over Aaron's, and held it there.
[To Be Continued — In Part 18: A short weekend trip gives Aaron and Eli time alone in a hotel room. Without distractions or routine, they're left with quiet intimacy, subtle insecurity, and a question neither of them has asked aloud: What comes next?]