COSMOS | Complete

MEET AARON BLAKELY: 1

Aaron's first destination remains a secret, despite my constant prying. After twenty minutes of driving through rural farmland, we pull into a parking lot on an acre of grass, already aggravated by other vehicles. Looming in front of us is a gigantic white screen, coupled with speakers taller than Aaron himself.

"Drive-in theatre," I muse. "Your mother doesn't know what this is?"

"This isn't the place," he says. "But I wanted to take you, nonetheless."

He reclines his chair, and I follow en suite. "What does this have to do with you?"

"It has everything to do with me."

Before I can even open my mouth to respond, there is a rap on Aaron's window. A fair-skinned freshman kneels to peer at Aaron through the tinted window, smiling. His mouth is moving at miles per minute, but his words don't transfer through the glass.

Aaron glances at me, presses a button, and the window smoothly rolls down to mid-height.

"Aaron! My man!" The kid sticks his hand through the small opening, and Aaron, ever the actor, takes it heartedly. Aaron responds, "Thomas, right?"

Thomas beams. "You betcha." He squints through the car, eyes zooming in on my presence. "Is that Asher Thomas?"

I stiffen, ready to fire back, but Aaron interjects. "Yes. Problem?"

Thomas pauses, then shrugs warily. "Nope. Just ... wondered if I could take a picture with you?" He proceeds to whip out his phone, which is already switched to the camera app. Without waiting for Aaron's response, Thomas extends his hand and takes close to one hundred pictures in a ceaseless frenzy. Once his photo needs are satisfied, he slaps Aaron's hand and tells him to follow him back on Instagram. Then, as fast as he came, Thomas is gone.

I open my mouth to sympathize, but it seems as if Aaron's open window has attracted even more unwelcome visitors. A crowd of boys' hunch over in front of the car, eyes agape. "Told you this was Lee Blakely's kid!" Someone crows. "Five bucks. Pay up."

The boy in the front sticks out his hand, and Aaron shakes it. "Hey, bro. Your mom is fucking hot."

Aaron smiles, though it looks more like a grimace. "You watch Sunday Night Portland?"

The boy grins broadly. "My dad tapes all the parts with your mom on it."

Aaron nods slowly, but his disgust is almost tangible. I grab the crook of his elbow and squeeze reassuringly, and the corner of his lips tilt up. Night is beginning to fall quickly, and it seems that my hand is hidden beneath shadows, for the boys make no notice to realize that I'm even in the car.

The group of guys asks Aaron to mention their names to his mother, then saunter off, slapping each other on the backs and hollering. Aaron glances at me, and I say, "This has everything to do with you."

As if waiting in line, two girls sashay up to Aaron, batting fake eyelashes. "Aaron!" one squeals, daintily pressing her two-inch nails to her chest. "I didn't even see you there!"

Aaron manages a smile while the other one rests her elbows on the top of the window. "We never see you around here anymore," she pouts.

Aaron shrugs. "Busy."

One girl shoots a glance at the other, and it seems that they trade an entire conversation with one look. "It must be," one agrees. "We all have money problems, and they're a bitch."

"What?" Aaron purses his lips, resisting a snort.

"Aren't you tight on money recently?" One demands, though her voice is hushed. The other leans forward, nodding slightly. Her black curls brush Aaron's nose, and he shifts back.

"My family is financially stable," he manages. "Though, I don't see what that has to do with you."

The girls' shoulders sag in relief, and they look as if they're about to shed a tear. "No, we just wondered if you wanted to hang out."

"My schedule's pretty tight."

One girl arches a brow. "In your bedroom."

"Believe it or not, in those few seconds, my schedule still hasn't changed." Aaron glances between the two of them, smiling broadly. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"

With a huff, the two of them flounce back into their cars, strategically parked behind Aaron's. A crumpled piece of paper flutters into Aaron's lap, with two strings of numbers. He snatches the note and crumples it into a miniscule ball, before hurtling it through the window. The small speck of white glistens in the sunset for a second, before disappearing in the tall grass. Behind us, someone distantly wails.

Aaron sits back, silent. He rolls up his window, just as the lights dim and the screen flickers to life. It seems, people are not only after Aaron Blakely – they are after his mother, his money, and themselves.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

He shrugs, jaw drawing taut. "I'm used to it," he deadpans. "Nothing I should be surprised about."

He leans back in his seat in silence, watching the movie enlarged over the screen. After a few moments, he turns back to me. He smiles a little in the darkness. "People want me for my looks, my money, my connections ... but not you.

"With you, I forget I even possess those things."