AllFreeNovel
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After all, a lot of his outward person was manufactured. His platinum hair was the result of four hours in the salon chair. His abs were the result of the three days a week he could afford to spend in the gym. His clothes a luxury so he looked a specific part. His skin perfectly polished and buffed from weekly facials.
But they’d never once complained about him in the sack. He just wasn’t sure he could ever have a normal relationship after this. His childhood had made him complicated enough as it was, and now working as an escort would surely finish the job of making him a complete emotional fuckup.
It was almost funny, he thought as he conditioned the ends of his hair, how much of his life had shaped him into the man he was. He’d been the obvious gay kid—dressing up in his sister’s tulle skirts and prancing around with her fairy wand.
His parents assumed he’d grow out of it, but then he was caught kissing another boy, and when they went through his room and found his hidden drawer full of lace panties, that was it. He was on the streets—lasting six whole days before a woman from CPS picked him up and took him to a group home.
His parents refused to take him back, and Oliver stared at himself in the mirror and wondered if he could somehow stuff himself into a shape his parents would want, then tuck himself into a closet. In the end, of course, it hadn’t mattered. His parents made it clear that no matter what the family court judge ordered, he wasn’t welcome to live with them.
So a group home it was, and Oliver dedicated himself to embracing who he was and refusing to apologize for it. No matter what it cost.
Which was what led him to where he was now: a grad student working part-time as a hooker, well on his way to finishing his master’s degree without any debt.
And tonight, being Oliver meant curling up in Hello Kitty slippers and fuzzy pajama pants while he picked up the bag of food from his doorstep and settled in for the night.
He didn’t have another client until Friday—some guy who wanted to be picked up by the Henderson Bridge and probably fucked near it too. But he had the rest of the week to work on his thesis and just…exist.
Which was a luxury in itself. But he could deal. He was nearly done.
And then the rest of his life would begin.
* * *
“Um, excuse me, sir? But I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sit here if you’re not producing the tears of thesis hell.”
Oliver didn’t even look up from his sad, wilted salad. “I’m crying on the inside.”
“Doesn’t count unless you’re seasoning your salad with that salty grad school goodness.”
That managed to get a smile out of Oliver as he looked up at his best friend, Kelsi. For a hot second, he was startled because he was pretty sure the seat across from him had been taken by some nameless dude from the Classics department, and he had no idea when the guy had gone. Not that he really cared.
He wasn’t in the library to make friends. He was there because the silence of his apartment was making him want to throw himself into the ocean. The library wasn’t much louder, but at least it allowedhimto be interrupted rather than interruptinghimselfand making excuses for why he wasn’t getting anything done.
“How much work do you have left?” Kelsi asked as she opened up a bag of salt-and-vinegar Herr’s from the vending machine. The noise earned her a couple of startled, irritated looks from the table near them, but she ignored everyone as she crunched down on the only intact chip from the bag.
“About a hundred years of research left,” Oliver said, rubbing at his eyes. It was only a slight exaggeration. His advisor was doing her job and advising him, but it sucked when she wanted him to rewrite an entire fucking chapter. Or three. “So, you know. No big deal. Why?”
“One of the bartenders over at Lane’s was being a transphobic dick, so they’re having a little party to celebrate him being fired. Trans bitches drink free,” she said, doing a little shimmy with her shoulders.
If she’d asked him a year ago—maybe two…maybe three—he’d have slammed his laptop shut and started getting ready immediately. Now, he was a responsible, mostly adult man who actuallydidwant to graduate on time.
He offered her an apologetic face, and she sat back, crossing her arms. “Babe…”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he whined. “But I’ve got clients all weekend and a whole-ass three chapters to rewrite because apparently fucking for a living is sucking all my creative juices from my body. Like some kind of creative-fuck vampire.”
“Your metaphor game is weak. Maybe you need sleep. Or a Red Bull.”
He mimed vomiting onto his laptop. He hadn’t had Red Bull in over a year when he made the mistake of trying it with vodka. “Seriously though, the night sounds amazing, but I can’t.”
She sighed. “You’re going to turn into some boring corporate cog, aren’t you?”
He laughed. “Babe. I’m getting my degree in history. I’m going to become some boring professor who gets his kicks on the weekend by doing drag shows.”
“Promise?”
He offered her his hand, and when she took it, he tugged her over the table and kissed her knuckles. “I swear. On Hypatia’s life.”
“She’s already super dead. Even biochem nerds like me know that.” She was smiling, though, and took her hand back, but her grin didn’t reach her eyes. “Seriously, are you okay?”
