Page 88 of Say It Again

“Ours.” It was a single word, but he meant it. He might not have been able to voice it, but he could show it. He could give him a home. He could help him secure the studio. He could provide for him a future.

“Ours.” Daniel laid his head on his shoulder and hummed. “I like it. That sounds, I don’t know. It sounds… real.”

Chapter Eighteen

“GOOD MORNING, this message is for a Mr. Daniel Greene. Hi, my name is Bill Oren with Missouri Loan Express. I’m sorry to inform you we were unable to approve your small business loan application. Give me a call back with any questions.”

Daniel quickly stuffed his phone into his pocket and plastered on a smile so Aaron wouldn’t wonder why he was frowning and threaten to drown him in a pile of cash. Two weeks had passed since he’d moved into Aaron’s apartment. Aside from all the constant questions about his loan situation and the refusal to accept any form of payment toward anything ever, living with him had been phenomenal.

Aaron pointed to an avocado. “That one.”

Daniel plucked an avocado from the heap. Even a run-of-the-mill grocery store trip was oddly lovely, regardless of Aaron transforming into the produce military.

“No, not that one,” Aaron said, then mumbled under his breath, “Obviously.”

Daniel chose another.

“Well, not that one either—”

“Aaron.” They’d been at this for five minutes. He might just squeeze one until it guacamole’d everywhere. “They all look the fucking same.”

“Well, they’re not the faaacking same-uh,” Aaron mocked in a Southern California accent—which was a stretch; his vocal fry wasn’t that extreme—and nudged him out of the way. “And you have to pick them right, by color and squish. You maybe want a 15 percent squishiness. See? Feel this. You feel the squishy? That’s a good squishy.”

He yanked Aaron into a hug, because what choice did he have? It wasn’t like there was any explaining how nerdy that sounded.

Aaron glanced around, squeezed his ass, then whispered in his ear, “Do we need lube while we’re here?”

“What? They sell that here?” Daniel gasped as he spun in a circle. “Where?”

“Over there next to the cucumbers.”

Daniel’s entire body lit up. “Shut all the way up! Really?”

“No.”

They moseyed through the store, ate half a bag of chips, made out in the aisle that had the lube because lube was hot to think about, then gawked at the lobsters in a tank. Well, Daniel gawked. Aaron seemed unfazed that there were literal lobsters. In a tank.

“Hi, buddy,” Daniel whispered, bending down to make eye contact with one of them. “Oh, I feel bad. He has no idea what’s coming.”

“Have you heard back from that last loan officer?” Aaron asked, handing him a bag of peeled shrimp.

“Aaron.” He widened his eyes, whipping the shrimp behind his back. “In front of him? They’re, like, cousins.”

Aaron chuckled as he followed him down an aisle with sauces. “Have you heard back or no?”

Daniel glanced over his shoulder to make sure the lobster didn’t see, then tossed the shrimp into the cart. “There are two I haven’t heard from, but it doesn’t mean—”

“Two?” Aaron blinked up from where he’d been reading a cocktail sauce label. “I thought there were three.”

“There were three. Now there are two.”

“Daniel,” Aaron groaned.

“What? It doesn’t mean I’m getting denied.”

“Yes, it does. Look at me. Look at me.” Aaron grabbed his hands and forced his eye contact. “This has gotten ridiculous. You need money. I have money. You’re letting your pride get in the way of your dreams. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t already own that studio. Come on. Let me help you.”

The temptation tugged at the seams of his resolve. But even if he was running out of time, hope, and options, he couldn’t accept Aaron’s money. He couldn’t. “I’ll figure it out.”

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