21. Aaron
TWENTY-ONE
AARON
If she thinks she’s going to walk away from whatever’s between us, she’s got another thing coming.
Fists clenching and unclenching at my hips, I pop my neck by stretching my head all the way to one shoulder, then the other, making a satisfying crack as an ear touches each side. Resolution flows through my system, filling me with a ferocious determination I’ve felt very few times in my life. It’s a welcome reprieve from the guilt of earlier.
That look of betrayal, of accusation, on Gemma’s face shook me to the bottom of my soul, leaving nothing but unrest at every echelon of my existence. Who does she think she is? Crawling beneath my skin, setting off this monster inside me, and then judging me for its actions.
I’m sure the obsession, the analysis will come later. For now, this frustration needs an outlet. And I know just the one.
By the time I get back to our table, the other couple has departed, and Kayla is looking more than a little confused.
“Everything okay? She practically ran out of here, she grabbed Spencer, it sounded like she said you guys had a fight?”
A wry smile broaches one side of my mouth and I give her a single, firm nod of my head. “It’ll be fine. You ready to go?”
She puts on a smile for my sake, working to calm me, and she nods eagerly. My gaze is drawn to the waiting check on the table, and without looking at it, I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and drop a large handful of hundred-dollar bills on the table, ready to get the fuck out of here already.
We get stopped no less than four times on our way to the front door by fans asking for pictures. So much for hoping to get through tonight without my location being shared. Normally, I don’t mind engaging with people, especially because we don’t have a huge paparazzi culture here in Atlanta, so I’m not so burnt out on the attention, the cameras, being hounded everywhere I go. That mostly only happens on my trips to LA, or less often, New York.
Tonight, it’s a little harder to bring my normal persona to the forefront, but I manage somehow, smiling for the selfies, grinning and thanking each of the fans for their support. One of the groups even recognized Kayla from her success on Instagram, which was cool for her.
Eventually, we make it to the valet stand, where our cars are waiting. I guess Kayla texted the ticket numbers while I was still with her .
Kayla leans into my body, her curves pressing against me, that voice a seductive purr.
“Can I come over?”
Something in the general vicinity of my stomach turns at the thought, and I bite down the reflex to reject her outright.
“I have something early in the morning,” I tell her, watching her face fall.
This must be the first time I haven’t jumped at the chance to have her presence in my bed since we got serious. But she misunderstands. I definitely need her body tonight. Something just doesn’t feel right about having her in my bed when everything in me is still focused on what happened with Gem. So I deflect, bending my neck until my lips crest the shell of her ear, whispering into it. “I’d love to come over for a while, though.”
The beaming grin she rewards me with is almost as good as the pleasure I take out on her flesh a half an hour later. I’m rougher with her than I’ve ever been before, needing an outlet for this unsettled, pent up whatever is going through me right now. She doesn’t seem to mind, screaming mindless encouragements in my ear as I ravage her.
The overpowering lavender scent of Kayla’s bedding isn’t enough to get Gemma’s sweet fragrance out of my nose, the feel of her soft skin under my fingers, the way she trembled at my nearness tonight, like my proximity alone drove her crazy. It’s enough to spin a thousand fantasies out of.
When my release scores through me like a whip of hot flame, it’s not the girl under me who I’m thinking of. For the first time in my life, it’s a pair of honey-brown eyes I know better than my own staring back at me as I grunt my satisfaction into my girlfriend’s neck. And it’s the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.
And then I leave.
You don’t have to say it. Even I’m disgusted with myself right now.
I have some shit to work out, clearly.
I waited as long as I could.
I swear, I did.
It’s just…that was only until around seven this morning. Patience isn’t my strong suit right now.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I paced, I fumed, I freaked.
I beat myself up the entire night, until I was bordering a panic attack.
What kind of fucking idiot am I?
I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know what I did last night, or why.
The only thing I really know right now, the only conclusion I came to after the nearly thirteen thousand steps I walked in my living room overnight (according to my watch), is that I’m a fucking wreck without Gem in my life. I need her back.
Which is what brought me here, to her stoop, standing outside the front door, my forehead resting on the warm wooden surface, one forearm braced next to it for support, trying to keep myself from fucking things up with her even further, but unable to stay away for another fucking minute.
I don’t know what’s going on. I just know that when we spent our time together, instead of apart, I was doing a hell of a lot better.
She needs to know that I know I fucked up. She needs to know I need her in my life. And I can only hope to God she still needs me in hers.
Her musical giggle sifts through the wooden door, soft, impossibly innocent and cheery for this early in the morning. Despite her anger toward me last night.
She sounds back to normal again now. The sound of it lifts one side of my mouth into a half smile, until I hear a deeper timbre somewhere in the house as well, the words indistinguishable from here, but the tone unmistakable.
He’s here.
I don’t know about you, but when I don’t sleep, I’m not…at my best, shall we call it. That’s what I’m blaming my flared nostrils on, the surge of jealousy, searing hot through my bloodstream. My lack of sleep.
Can I also use that excuse for whatever I pulled with her last night? Tbh, prolly not, but please don’t bring that up rn, thanks.
The hand that’s braced on the door turns into a fist and pounds on the wood several times, demanding to be heard, for the barriers between us to come down.
By the time the door swings inward, revealing her on the other side of the doorjamb, I’ve lost all semblance of anything remotely sensible I was going to say.
Her eyes darken and narrow at the sight of me on her doorstep. She’s not wearing makeup, the first time I’ve seen her bare-faced in months, and her hair looks adorably sleep-mussed, or worse.
My fist clenches by my side at the sight. I’ll consider that rumpled look from sleep, for all of our sakes. She must be in the middle of getting ready for work, because she’s dressed in an outfit that looks more professional than I’m used to seeing her in on a day off—actually any day, really—and her words from last weekend come back to me at that realization. Until six or sometimes seven on Saturdays.
At least I didn’t wake her up.
“Gem.” My voice sounds tired, cracking on the single word, and I think the fact that it sounded like a plea worked in my favor, because her scowl softens slightly. She angles the door so that it’s nearly closed, hiding me from view, and looks back behind her, inside her townhouse, like she’s checking if the coast is clear, before slipping outside with me.
She doesn’t ask me to move, her demeanor more confident than I’ve ever seen it. She’s owning herself, the space she occupies, unabashedly. Her presence, the way she moves forward without regard for my position near her, has me moving backward to get out of her way, and fast.
Fuck, she’s sexy .
“What are you doing here?” she hisses, her teeth all but clenched. The tense set of her jaw, and the way her hair falls in waves, just a few inches longer than her chin, highlights her fine jaw and delicate bone structure.
How have I been staring at this face damn near every day for half my life and never seen this girl like this before?
The raw Gemma energy being unleashed on me right now is making it hard to concentrate on anything but how beautiful she is, how much I’ve missed her. I feel a smile break out on my face, and I hope she doesn’t take it as anything other than relief, appreciation that she hasn’t shut me out entirely.
“I had to see you,” is all I can muster.
Those honeyed cinnamon eyes of hers, like a strong hot toddy, flash dangerously and she crosses her arms in front of her body, covering her small chest in defiance.
Even though she’s pissed at me, even though nothing is how it used to be between us, just being near her calms me. Suddenly, the fact that I haven’t slept in over a day feels like nothing. The crushing weight of how badly I’d disappointed her last night is easing, my chest able to take deep breaths again for the first time in twelve hours.
It’s her. She is magic . She is the cure to everything for me.
I scramble to put my regrets into words for her.
“I made a mistake.” Hah. My voice didn’t even break that time .
The remorse must be written into my features, because she rolls her eyes like no shit, Stone , and drops her arms down to her sides, her posture showing me she’s willing to hear what I have to say.
When I don’t continue immediately, she lifts a hand to me in a gesture that clearly—with attitude—tells me to go on, so I do.
So sassy, Gem.
I clear my throat and start talking. “I was wrong. We weren’t ready to bring significant others into this. I thought that’s what would make this easier for both of us, but clearly, it wasn’t the thing to do.”
Gemma’s eyes widen and her jaw nearly unhinges, the disbelief etched across her entire face. I hold up my hands to stave her off, knowing she’s seconds from exploding on me. She never used to do that before, but she’s obviously acquired some new skills in the last few months.
“You went way too fucking far last night,” she seethes.
I have no need for any new holes in my body, so I speak up before she can start in on me any more.
“I know, I know, I know. I’m sorry, Gem. I am. I didn’t mean to cause you any pain. I couldn’t handle you ignoring me.”
“Ignoring you?” Her voice is nearly a screech. “I wasn’t fucking ignoring you, Stone. You were feeling me up while we were both on a fucking date.” Her eyes flash and flame at me, and I try to defend myself, despite not deserving it.
“I went a little crazy. Please, just bear with me.” My hands drop from the space between us, one of them coming to rub down the front of my face, chasing the fog, the lingering exhaustion away. “I haven’t been…myself lately.” Her eyebrows shoot even higher into her hairline. “Clearly,” I expound. “And you don’t deserve the shit I’ve said to you and put you through this year.”
I clear my throat softly, lowering my voice to share something with her that I’m not proud of, but has become increasingly more real to me in recent weeks and days.
“I don’t like who I am without you, Gem.”
Her eyes soften before darting around the porch, over to the street, then back to mine. Her compassion for me has never faltered over the years, even when I haven’t deserved it. I love her for it.
“I’m working on myself. I promise. But I need something from you in the meantime.”
She scoffs, eyes hardening on my gaze again. “That’s rich.” The scorn in her voice is new, too.
I reach out to take her hands in mine, and run my thumb across the back of one of her hands. So fucking soft . It makes me wonder how soft other parts of her body are. She shudders, and I see goosebumps spread across her arms. I wonder if she had the same thought, of how my hands would feel elsewhere on her, or if that’s just more wishful thinking on my part.
“I need you to not shut me out while I do.” The words are nearly whispered, and she’s leaning in, like she wants to catch each and every one before it leaves the little bubble we’re in.
Her eyes shut and she squeezes them closed for just a minute before she pulls her hands back from mine, teetering backward, then opening her eyes and catching herself before she could lose her balance entirely.
When she speaks, it’s so soft I can hardly hear it, but the words slice me as if they’d been screamed in my face.
“You hurt me.”
I drop my head in embarrassment, staring at the weathered gray concrete stoop below our feet, hers in little boots, mine in the same black Vans (slip-ons, not Old Skools) from last night. The ones that covered my feet when they demanded her attention, pulled it away from him and onto me. Like the ultimate prick that I apparently am.
“I—I’m sorry.” It’s all I can tell her right now. I know I have some shit to work out. Some things to make up for. But I am sorry for that.
“It’s not enough, kid.”
The sadness in her tone will haunt me until I make things right between us again, if I ever can with all the invisible lines I crossed. Maybe even beyond that.
My head nods in understanding, agreement, acquiescence.
“I know it’s not an excuse, Gem, believe me, I know. But I’ve been going crazy these past few months. It’s not right, this space between us. I’m not me without you. Please don’t shut me out. I’ll work on me, I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you. I just…I need you, Gem. I want things back to how they used to be. Please. Let me try. Let’s rewind. Go back to a few months ago. Please.”
She bites on that lower lip, chewing on it as she thinks, leaving her top lip—so fucking pillowy—out for me to stare at as she does. She’s crossed one leg in front of the other and she’s shifting back and forth, nervously. I realize it’s saying yes, giving in to me, that she’s nervous about.
My hand reaches out to clasp her cheek and slides to the back of her head, forcing her eyes to meet mine again. “I won’t hurt you again,” I tell her sincerely. “I just can’t do this shit without you. I mean it.”
I can’t help it when my fingertips clench just a little, curling in, massaging her scalp beneath my touch and soaking in the feel of her hair underneath my hand, the way her face feels, held in my grip. All I can chalk it up to is feeling right .
What the fuck is that supposed to even mean? That is not helpful, brain.
She closes her eyes briefly, like she’s steeling herself, drawing on some hidden reserve of bravery for what comes next. When she opens them again, they’re a molten shade I’ve never seen before, so soft, so warm, so inviting. Pockets of gold, hidden in the depths of soft brown. Possibly my new favorite color.
“I need some time,” is what she whispers.
I drop my hand, relieved, nodding my head frantically in acceptance of her terms.
“I can do that.” Damn, I sound eager.
She clears her throat, turning her head to look back at her front door briefly, and then at me again. Her thumb comes up to point at it in this adorable little sideways hitch, like she’s being pulled that way. “It’s my last day with Spencer before his season kicks off. I, uh, kinda gotta go.”
She kicks at the ground nervously for a minute, before leaning in to give me the fastest hug of my life. But it fills me with more hope than any other touch I’ve ever received, including that handshake that sealed the deal on my first starring role.
“I want to believe you,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry things have been so hard for you. I don’t like being away from you either.” She looks like the admittance cost her something to voice aloud. “But I’m not going to be treated like I’m here just for your amusement, Aaron. I don’t know what came over you recently, but I miss my best friend. The one who would never belittle me, or try to cop a feel—especially in front of my boyfriend—” her glare hardens, “or fuck with my heart. That’s who I have room for in my life. Okay?”
Her earnest eyes meet mine, and my Adam’s apple bobs as I swallow through my discomfort, my embarrassment at my behavior lately. I nod once. “I want him back, too.” I admit, matching her spell of sincere honesty.
“Maybe he can text me tomorrow,” she says softly, nearly a whisper, as she steps back toward the house. Her hand reaches behind her for the knob, and she opens the door backward deftly, stepping up to cross the threshold. Her solemn eyes are the last thing I see before she ever so quietly closes the door in my face.
Tomorrow. I can make it until tomorrow.