Page 56 of Obnoxious Bad Boy

Aaron

I’m living a nightmare, and while it’s a relief that I’m at my parents’ home and don’t have to face the mockery of my peers until after New Year’s day, the knowledge that the short video captured by the camera mounted in the museum are somewhere out there is making me lose sleep.

I know Dad pays to take down whatever copies end up reuploaded, but people might still have them on their hard drives, no matter how much money and effort goes toward keeping me anonymous.

That’s not gonna happen. I know for a fact that my face is visible in the recording. At this point, I wonder if it’s not for the better that we got caught by cops before we got down to business. I’m vocal and expressive in bed (or in a carriage for that matter), so at least I got to keep a shred of dignity thanks to things not getting any further than they did.

As if to throw salt into my wounded heart, Vex’s social media tells me he’s having a great time preparing for Christmas. Matt told me that even though some people have speculated about Vex being the other guy in the video, Vex’s complete lack of acknowledging the situation is doing its job.

After the first few days of sulking back at home, I wrote Vex a long letter about all my hurt feelings, how I had hoped for a future, and how he changed my life forever. I took my time, wrote it with my glass pen, in crimson and gold ink. Then I burned it in the downstairs fireplace.

Which is a bit dramatic, but I’m not going to therapy, so it has to suffice. It was cathartic and no one needs to know.

I’m hurt that he didn’t reach out to me about the video, but maybe it makes more sense for him to wash his hands of me. Since his face is not visible in the recording, he’s surely intending to not give people a single reason to connect him with me ever again.

I was so naive to hope for a happy ending with him.

“I think your friend is here,” Mom says, peeking into the living room where I’m reading a book to distract myself from ennui and despair. She still barely speaks to me, so I suppose this is progress.

I get up and drag myself to the door like a zombie. I didn’t even bother to get dressed and I’m sporting pajamas under my robe. Since the friend she means is Matt, I could as well be wearing head to toe crushed velvet and he wouldn’t care.

Matt has been my rock since the whole arrest thing, supporting me not only through heartbreak but also the damn sex tape thing, as he likes to call it. He’s managed to make me laugh when I thought I’d never smile again. Yet I can’t help but sulk because Vex should have been the one at my side.

I’m almost at the door when the bell rings, and I unlock it, dashing into Matt’s arms.

“Aaron, long time no see,” he says, squeezing me so hard I end up being lifted off the ground. He might not be as big as Vex, but he is a jock and with me being a featherweight, he has no issues carrying me inside.

“My life sucks,” I whine, emotional even though I thought I cried all my tears in the past week. I’m also not a hugger, so my levels of distress must be clear to Matt.

Matt kicks the door shut and strokes my head. “I’m sorry. You need to tell me everything,” he says, adjusting a large duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.

“You must be Matt,” my mom says, freezing me in place, but my friend is unaware of the edge in her tone and grins.

“Good afternoon. It’s a beautiful house.”

This must have unlocked her cold heart because she asks him what he wants to drink.

I stand around and wait awkwardly as she pours us both juice, but then I get to finally invite Matt upstairs. The house is decorated like Christmas on steroids, but my room is a refuge from the fake holiday joy.

I’ve got dark green velvet curtains to obscure the light and a collection of books to keep me company. I spend most of my days in grandpa’s brown leather armchair, drinking tea with whisky, so at least I don’t have to experience reality in all its sharpness.

Matt drops the bag to my bed and looks around with raised eyebrows. “What is this depressed vampirecore?” In comparison to the dark hues of my room, he’s sunshine personified from his white sneakers to the red sweatshirt with a reindeer.

I groan and sit in the armchair. “This, is my life, Matt.”

So what if my walls are bottle-green, and antique furniture—a deep shade of brown? It suited me before the sex tape, and right now, it suits me even more.

He opens the bag. “I mean, I can see that, but don’t you need a bit of rest from all that gloom?” he asks and pulls out a midsized metal box.

“This is my rest from the drama still to come when I go back to Springton. I’m loading my batteries. Though I am considering becoming a hermit. Do you know nobles used to hire hermits to live on their property and entertain guests?”

Matt cocks his head. “What’s a hermit?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, seriously,” Matt says and opens the box before offering it to me. The scent of sugar, butter and vanilla explodes in my face as I’m faced with a pile of sugar cookies. “Those are from Kyle and Logan, though we both know who’s the baker,” Matt says as I pick up a star-shaped cookie.

I don’t know what to think, so I just talk. “Like... a person who chooses to live alone, with just the very basics.”