THE SCHEDULE says the event of the day is paintball. Jackson doesn’t understand what paintball has to do with seeing Hawaii. He’ll add it to the list of things he’s going to ask Aaron—maybe he’ll have a good guess—but first Aaron has to wake up. He’s on his stomach, his arms clasped around his pillow. His lashes are dark against his skin, his hair spiked and a complete mess. He snores.
Jackson wants to kiss him.
It’s not a new revelation, but it’s one he’s thinking maybe he doesn’t have to ignore. See, he’s got an idea. Jackson woke up god-awful early when he realized he was lying on Aaron like he was a human blanket. And suddenly Aaron’s comment about him moving while he slept made sense. But Aaron didn’t look bothered, and he wasn’t awake or trying to shift Jackson away. His face was buried in Jackson’s hair, each exhale making the strands flutter over Jackson’s forehead.
He felt warm and comfortable.
Sure they’re fake dating and Georgina’s paying Aaron (she refused to let Jackson pay), but what if they dated for real? Or, well, not dated. What if Aaron could be his rebound? He’s had more than one friend swear by them. He’s always been a serial monogamist. What if he indulges in a fling? It could be just what he needs. A change of pace, as it were. Aaron seems to be nice—and if they’re only together for two weeks, that doesn’t give him time to hit the grumpy post new-and-shiny phase.
He gets tired of waiting and contemplating the situation at about seven in the morning—the schedule is no longer a suitable distraction—and slides from the bed. He’ll go for a swim, and surely Aaron will be awake by the time he gets back.
Except he’s not.
Jackson’s towel is around his shoulders, and he’s leaving a puddle on the tile floor. He’s starting to shiver. The AC in the room is not kind to his wet skin. All right. He’ll shower, then. It’s almost seven thirty. Aaron’s a grown man with a job—albeit an odd one, but some people must have morning or brunch weddings and dates—his body clock won’t let him sleep in till noon.
Jackson hops in the shower, and he even takes his time. Just in case Aaron needs a little longer to wake up.
When he emerges, dry and dressed in shorts and a tank, Aaron has moved. But he’s still asleep. Now he’s on his back, sprawled across the bed, limbs flung wide. He’s kicked the comforter into a ball at the bottom of the bed. His morning wood is tenting the thin white sheet barely covering him. Jackson averts his eyes before the temptation becomes too much.
Jackson thinks about his options. Maybe he’s rushing into things. Maybe it’s not a good idea. Aaron is being paid after all. Would sleeping with him be considered prostitution? Technically he’s paying him to pretend to date him. He’s not paying for sex. That’s not included in the package. So if he’s being precise about it, it’s not really prostitution.
He needs a second opinion. But whose does he want? Georgina might automatically say no. He doesn’t think she can be properly objective. Laurence is out of the question. His advice to James was to lie. Jackson doesn’t need that kind of mess. Which rules out James, who was dumb enough to take Laurence’s advice. That leaves Dorian and Denver. He imagines the teasing, how fast the news will spread to the whole family. And then it hits him. Bastien!
He leaves a note on the kitchen counter to say he’s gone for a walk, and he heads one condo over to bang on the door.
James answers it with a coffee in one hand and a grumpy, narrow-eyed look on his face. “What do you want?”
“Good morning to you too,” says Jackson. “Could I borrow Bastien? I was thinking he’d be perfect company for my walk.”
James scrunches his eyes to thin slits, but he backs away from the door and lets Jackson in. “My birthday’s already happened.”
“I know.” He rolls his eyes. As if he needs Bastien’s advice for presents. “This isn’t about you, oh conceited one.” He looks around the room. Bastien’s sitting on the couch, his red curls askew, and their gazes meet. Jackson smiles. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Sure,” says Bastien slowly. His lips are red and puffy. Jackson’s thinking he interrupted something.
He waits till Bastien has disappeared into his room to grab sunblock to glance at James. “You should keep that to your room. You don’t need to scar our sister.”
James snorts. “If anyone’s going to scar someone it’s going to be her scarring me. I’m never going to be able to listen to a Southern accent the same way.” His expression is one of pure horror.
Jackson would laugh, but well, Georgina’s his sister too. He scrunches his face up and chooses not to say anything. He’d rather not think about it.
Bastien comes back, streaks of white on his pale skin, and James steps forward and starts rubbing them in with his free hand. His fingers linger on Bastien’s bare shoulder. “You’re going to have even more freckles,” he says, sounding delighted. Bastien’s face goes a fiery red, and he bats James’s hand away.
“Later.” His bright blue gaze meets Jackson’s. “I’m ready.”
Neither of them are wearing shoes, so they walk right down to the ocean and start a lazy pace with the water licking around their calves. The sun is already high in the brilliantly azure sky, the waves rolling in with quiet rumbles. Boats bob farther out, but the beach is mostly deserted here. It’s reserved for the hotel, and Jackson supposes most people are still asleep. It’s very peaceful.
They’ve gone a good distance without speaking when Jackson finally works himself up to discussing the situation at hand. “What do you think about me making my arrangement with Aaron not-so-fake?”
It probably says something that Bastien doesn’t look at all surprised. “If you like him, and you want to, I think it would be really good for you. Georgina vouched for him, so you know he’s a good person. He won’t fuck you over.”
Jackson nibbles on his bottom lip. “I was thinking… what if it was just for these two weeks? Dipping my toes back into things, if you will.”
Bastien does look shocked at that. “You want to have a fling?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “We live in different states. He’s an escort. Trying to make this an actual relationship would be a bit of a stretch.” He isn’t sure if he would be willing to put his heart back in such a vulnerable position.
“His being an escort doesn’t deter you from this?”
Jackson shakes his hand from side to side. “Technically speaking, he’s being paid to act like my date and nothing else. This is something different.”
Bastien doesn’t respond right away, but his expression is clearly thoughtful, so Jackson leaves him to it. Eventually Bastien says, “I’m going to say my original answer stands. If you want to and he wants to, then go for it.” He smiles. “This is technically a vacation. You should get to have some fun.”
“I think I will,” says Jackson. He just has to figure out how to get Aaron on board. “Do you think he’ll… want me?”
Bastien looks incredulous. “Take a minute to watch his face when he’s looking at you. He’s either the best actor ever or he finds you hopelessly adorable. And if the money is a problem, you can always offer to stop paying for his services.”
Jackson wrinkles his nose. “Adorable. That’s what I’ve always wanted to be considered.”
Scooping up a shell, Bastien flicks the water clinging to his fingers at Jackson’s face. “When I look at you, I think of a giant yellow Lab. Adorable.”
There’s only one thing to do. Jackson tackles him. They land in the water, causing a big splash, and he digs his fingers into Bastien’s sides till the man is howling with laughter. “Now who’s a Labrador?” he asks around his own giggles.
“I’m never taking it back,” gasps Bastien.
Jackson’s going to show him adorable.
“I SAY we order without him,” says Dorian.
“I second that,” says Denver. “I don’t see why we have to starve because of him.”
Aaron’s close to caving in. His stomach is gnawing on itself, angrily grumbling its need for food. He doesn’t want to make the hotel staff come back multiple times, though. “We’ll give your brother five more minutes.” Aaron has no clue how Jackson gathered up enough energy after the day before to be up and about so early.
They both curse, but neither reaches for the phone to place a room-service order. The condo has a kitchen. They need to set aside some time to grocery shop.
The door opens. Aaron tilts his head on the back of the couch. Jackson’s standing in the doorway, absolutely soaked, with clumps of sand and seaweed tangled in his hair. His bare feet are covered in sand, little miniscule shells adding color to the tops. His shorts are definitely not board shorts, and he’s wearing a tank top that is clinging to his chest for all it’s worth.
“What happened to you?” he asks.
“Did you roll on the beach?” asks Dorian.
Jackson shuffles in place, having the grace to look sheepish. “I went for a walk with Bastien. There may have been a tussle.”
That elicits raised eyebrows.
He rubs his face and grimaces as a streak of sand is left behind. Aaron gets up to go find a towel. “Did you even try to clean off?” he calls from the bedroom. He’s going to have to leave their cleaners a tip. He brings the towel back out, and Jackson reaches for it, looking mightily disappointed when Aaron puts it on the floor at his feet. “If you step on this, you can shimmy your way into the shower without getting sand all over.”
Jackson’s lower lip protrudes, but he obligingly steps onto the towel and starts a hilarious shuffle toward their room. Aaron doesn’t know whether to laugh till he’s crying or be mesmerized by the way the short, quick motions make Jackson’s ass jiggle.
When he glances at the twins, they’re both giving him knowing looks. His cheeks heat. “We can order now,” he says. “I’ll check and see what Jackson wants in a minute.” He’s not going to risk going in too soon and seeing him unclothed, tempting though it may be.
Food is ordered, and it gets there in time for Jackson to emerge newly dressed and all traces of his walk gone. He sits next to Aaron on the couch, their legs pressed together from thigh to ankle. Jackson’s very warm. Aaron doesn’t comment.
“So what happened between you and Bastien?” asks Denver nosily.
“Nothing,” says Jackson. “We were just playing around.”
“Playing around?” repeats Dorian, eyebrow arched skeptically.
Jackson stares at him, his cheeks flushing. “I took offense to something he called me, and I knocked him over. We proceeded to do battle as I tried to get him to take it back.”
Aaron almost chokes on his pancake. “Do battle?” he asks when he can breathe again.
“I may have tickled him.”
His cheeks are rosy apples by the time everyone finally manages to stop laughing. No matter how much they prod, though, he won’t reveal what Bastien called him.
Before they know it, it’s time to go meet everyone in the courtyard for an afternoon of paintball. Aaron doesn’t know whether this is going to be highly fun or intensely painful. He’s done it before, several years ago, and he was decent. He’s not sure he trusts this family with such things, however.
Jackson leans against his side as they wait for James and Georgina to come out. “I wanted to ask you this morning, do you have any idea what this has to do with seeing Hawaii?”
“No.” He doesn’t know why Jackson thinks he would have a clue.
Jackson slips an arm around his waist.
Aaron glances down at him. His cheeks are pinking. “What’re you doing?” he asks. He doesn’t mind it, but this is all very sudden for Jackson.
He starts to withdraw, worry creasing his forehead. “Oh. Sorry. Do you not like… I just thought….”
Aaron pulls him back. “If you like it, then it’s fine. I like it,” he says. “Remember what I told you?” Maybe someone made a comment to him about them not acting physically affectionate enough.
He feels Jackson’s fingers curl around one of his belt loops. “I like it,” he says. “It’s nice.” There’s nothing in his tone to suggest he’s lying, so Aaron wraps his arm around Jackson’s shoulders in return. The embrace won’t last long, it’s hot outside, and he can already feel himself becoming too heated. He doesn’t want to let go, though.
Once they’re all there and two new family groups have joined them, they pile onto yet another bus.
One of the men getting on—tall, brown-haired, and bearded—flicks Laurence in the middle of the forehead when he walks by. “I’m going to kick your ass,” he says and goes to take a seat at the back.
Aaron turns to Jackson for an explanation as Laurence rubs at his forehead and mumbles.
Jackson sighs. “That’s our cousin Charlie. Laurence, many years ago in a clay pigeon shooting contest, shot Charlie in the ass.”
Laurence turns in his seat. “I didn’t do it on purpose, and I said I was sorry!”
“Charlie didn’t feel very forgiving. Still doesn’t, I guess.”
Denver chimes in. “It was Charlie’s first time playing with the adults.”
Marcy’s snickering, trying to hold back peals of laughter, no doubt. Aaron would be inclined to giggle if he wasn’t worried about Laurence accidentally shooting him. A paintball will do less damage, by far, but it still won’t feel pleasant. He eyes Laurence warily.
“I haven’t shot anyone since!” He throws up his hands and faces forward with a huff.
Aaron doesn’t find those words all that comforting. He’s even less comforted when he sees Laurence actually handling the paintball gun. “We’re all going to get taken out by him, aren’t we?” he asks Jackson in a whisper.
All he gets in answer is a snort.
The course is set on ten acres of Hawaiian forest, with obstacles and bunkers built in to aid what’s already naturally there. They’ve got three hours to chase each other around and try to eliminate the opposing teams. The point system works the same as the day before. All they need is one hit to be out, and when that happens they can retreat back to the start and watch the game on the monitors set up in the little hut outside the forest. They’re all hooked up with mics, and there are cameras on the trees, so if they get lost, someone should be able to direct them back.
Aaron’s really fond of the “should be able.” He thinks it’s very reassuring.
A guide leads each team through the woods to show them where their team bunker is, and then he leaves them there. The bunkers are fully stocked with ammunition.
James stares after his retreating back. “Does that mean we start now?”
“I think so,” says Tristan. He disappears into the bunker. “I wonder if they gave us a map.”
“Wouldn’t it defeat the purpose to tell us where the other teams are?” asks Georgina.
“Probably. But you never know.”
They wait around till he emerges, shaking his head. “No map. I think we just go for it.”
It’s easily agreed that they should split into pairs, and Aaron and Jackson wander off in a random direction. Jackson looks surprisingly at home in the gear and with the paintball gun held confidently in his hands.
“Have you played before?” he asks quietly.
Jackson nods. “We do stuff like this on days off from filming sometimes. It’s a good way to loosen up and get everyone to have fun. What about you?”
“Used to in college,” he replies. “It’s been a while.”
It’s ages before they encounter anyone else. Aaron feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through the woods rather than playing a game. They hear the crunch of footsteps over the underbrush and duck for cover behind two wide trees. Their bodies are easily concealed by the ginormous width. Aaron crouches down, not able to see Jackson from his angle but at a better advantage to aim.
The two guys who emerge are twins, with pitch-black hair and their guns up and ready. Aaron vaguely recalls Jackson saying they are—of course—cousins. Apparently he has thousands of them.
He waits till they’re closer, and then he shoots.
Everything becomes a little less like a sightseeing walk after that. Turns out that the two of them were front men for a group of four others hiding behind them, and what follows is a lot of running and dodging and a fair bit of shouting. Fleeing through the woods isn’t all that easy. While the trees make good cover, they also serve to provide obstacles. There’s a lot of stumbling over protruding roots and banging into low hanging branches as they take sharp turns.
They don’t really have a destination in mind.
Jackson’s foot catches on a fallen branch, and he starts to tilt forward. Aaron reacts on instinct and grabs the back of his shirt, hauling him up. The smile Jackson gives him is mesmerizing. Jackson has two deep dimples, one on either side, and when he smiles, his whole face looks animated.
It’s too much of a distraction, leaves him frozen in place. Several paintballs slam into his backside, hitting his thighs and calves, his back, and one even hits his right buttcheek. He holds his gun up in surrender. That was a bit of overkill, don’t they think? Jackson’s still standing there, staring at him in shock. His body is blocked by Aaron’s.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks him. “Run!”
Jackson takes off, and Aaron turns to berate Jackson’s extended family for thinking it was necessary to shoot him so many times.
THEIR TEAM comes in second, but Jackson manages to shoot Charlie before he can do any damage to Laurence, so he’s counting it as a minor victory. He searches out Aaron when it’s over and plasters himself along his side. Aaron’s arm automatically goes around him. He’s never particularly cared for doing this, found it too cloying, but he doesn’t mind it as much with Aaron.
“Thanks for taking those hits,” he says, tilting his head up to make eye contact. Aaron has the prettiest brown eyes. They’re so dark, the irises finely striated. If he wants to have a fling and nothing more, he probably shouldn’t be thinking about how he could get lost in them.
Aaron laughs. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I should be congratulating you for not getting hit till the last few minutes.” He nods at the monitors. “You’ve got some impressive moves.”
Jackson has to resist the urge to squirm, knowing that Aaron was watching him play the game. He tripped a couple of times. Not at all graceful, and he completely forgot about the cameras.
Despite the air-conditioning in the building, Jackson’s starting to overheat. Aaron runs hot. He reluctantly pulls away but makes sure to stand close. “I was thinking,” he says—he hadn’t been, he’s making this up on the fly—fidgeting. “Why don’t we go out and do something touristy when we get back? They do glass-bottom boats here. We could go out over one of the reefs?” The sun won’t be going down for a while yet. They’ve got time before they need to be back for dinner.
Now that he knows what he wants, he’d like to get it in the open, to make it happen before he can second-guess himself. He’d like this to not be something he thinks to death before it can even happen.
“That would be nice. Are any of your siblings coming?”
Jackson starts to shake his head, “no” halfway out of his mouth.
Georgina interrupts. “Coming where?”
Jackson holds back a groan of annoyance as Aaron says, “He was thinking about going on a glass-bottom boat tour of one of the reefs.”
“Ooo, that sounds fun,” says Dorian. “We can all go!”
If he was alone, his head would be in his hands, and he’d be releasing a short scream of frustration. That is not at all what he wanted. He’s going to have to be more precise with his wording next time. “Just you and me” is going to be a phrase he crams into his proposal.
When they start to head out to the bus, he catches Bastien’s sympathetic look. Jackson shakes his head ruefully, and his gaze dips down. There’s a massive purple bruise blooming over his collarbone. His brother keeps looking at it in concern, trying to touch it, and Bastien continuously bats his hand away.
Jackson got shot twice at the same time, once in the join of his elbow—he has no clue how that was accomplished, but now it hurts to bend his arm—and once on his hip. Once they’re seated and the bus is rolling, he extends his arm as if he’s examining the mark and sighs, disgruntled.
He hears Bastien snort from behind him.
But it does what he wants it to, so Bastien can shut up. Aaron’s gaze goes right to the mark, and he hisses in a breath of sympathy. “Ouch,” he says. “That can’t feel great.” He reaches out, fingers barely brushing over the mottled flesh. “We can pick up an ice pack before we go out.” He appears to be genuinely concerned. Warmth bubbles in Jackson’s stomach, and he fights back the pleased smile that’s tugging at his facial muscles.
He might not get to act on his decision today, but there’s always tomorrow.