Page 21 of Siren Song

I do not check behind me. Maybe it is a test, or maybe it is my naïve belief that I have figured something out about Aleks tonight.

When I reach the gravel path, I hear the crunch of footsteps behind me.

I smile.

Good boy.

We walk in silence.

The night is full of the inevitable ambient noise when thousands of people are brought together. Generators hum, insects buzz—different from the cadence of the bugs in Yucatec’a. Occasional laughter punctuates the background.

We veer onto the winding path leading to our cabin when I hear the click and hiss of a lighter behind me.

I turn, incredulous, as the first sharp note of tobacco hits my nose. “Seriously?”

“What?” He takes a long drag, the cherry glowing orange at the end of the cigarette, staring right at me, daring me to do something.

He is testing me. Everything about Aleks tells me he will push and push and push, and it is all a desperate plea for interference. He will never tell me when he is floundering. He is too stubborn.

He must recognize this about himself, too, because why else was he walking around with a green bandana in his back pocket, telling the world exactly who he is and what he wants. A Boy, looking for a Daddy. He knows what he needs, and now it is up to me to prove I can be the one to give it to him.

I am going to crack him open, and then I will watch him soar.

“Smoking is a bad habit.” I drop my voice to the lowest register.

He rolls his eyes. Brats, always so predictable. “Can you not?”

“Do you want me to lie?”

He does not say anything. His lips press the cigarette tightly between his lips—it looks unnatural, his posture missing the ease of a seasoned smoker. Everything about him is tense. I want to take the tension away, to tell him I am here now, and it is my job to take care of him.

It is easy to steer him off the path, to use my wider body to box him into a dark stoop alongside a building, the doorway shadowed from the dim lights lining the path. Aleks leans back against the door, and I crowd closer.

“What were you hoping to find tonight?” I watch my words land, goosebumps spreading across his bare chest.

He looks at the ground when he responds with a muttered “I don’t know.”

“We both know that is bullshit.”

Aleks looks up then, and even in the dim light I can see the storm in his eyes. “I wanted to hook up,” he spits out. “It’s not a big deal.”

I hold my gaze steady as I reach behind him, careful to not let my touch linger as I pluck the bandana from his pocket. I hold it up between us. “Now look me in the eye, boy, and tell me you were just looking for a hookup.”

His cheeks stain red. He takes an almost frantic drag, and the sharp smoke crowds the air between us. As much as I want to wait him out, the smoke is pissing me off.

Enough.

“Spit it out,” I instruct.

Gone is the moment of bashful shyness, replaced by the kind of rage that sinks its teeth in and refuses to let go. His upper lip curls. “What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

I pluck the cigarette from his mouth, ignoring the way his sweet, pursed lips chase me, drop it to the gravel walk and crush it below the heel of my sandal. When I look back up, Aleks stares at me with his mouth wide open.

I lean in close enough to feel his shallow breaths. “Watch your mouth, boy.”

Red spreads over his cheeks, but this time he does not look away. “Make me,” he whispers.

It is a plea, and I soak it in.