Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
AIDEN
The winding road climbs up the Santa Monica mountains that ring the Westside, separating Los Angeles from the Valley beyond. Charlotte shifts in the seat beside me, looking out the window.
“We’re heading higher?”
“Yes, we are.”
There’s a smile in her voice. “I feel like I’ve really seen your LA.”
“My LA.”
“Yes. Mansion in Bel Air. Your Culver City office, and Rodeo Drive for shopping, and dinner at Velveteen in Beverly Hills.”
“There’s no reason to ever leave the Westside,” I say.
She chuckles. “Yeah. I’m learning that.”
I tap my fingers against the wheel again. Something about her characterization doesn’t quite ring true. Or maybe it does, and that’s why it chafes.
“I like being out of the city more,” I hear myself saying.
“Yeah? Where?”
“National parks in Utah, in particular.”
She’s quiet, and then sighs a little. “Yeah. They’re great. I’ve been wondering about that, actually.”
“Wondering about what?”
“You were there to camp and hike. You do that a lot?”
“As often as I can. That, or being out on the water. There are beautiful places around here.” It’s been weeks since I was last out in the wild. Joshua Tree, Sequoia National Park, the Catalina Islands. They are all within reach.
“There are,” she says. “I haven’t explored the national parks around here as much.”
I glance at her. We could keep driving. Be in Joshua Tree in a few hours. The wild impulse takes me a few seconds to tamp down.
“You will,” I tell her instead.
She looks around. The incline is getting even steeper as I drive around curves in the road. “Where are we heading?”
“Mulholland Drive.”
“Oh. I’ve heard of that street.”
I turn onto it a few minutes later. It’s a curving snake of a road, nestled high up in the mountains, and mostly deserted this time of night. I rarely have cell reception up here. That might be my favorite part of driving out this way.
To the left of us is the sprawling cityscape, peeking out from between a few trees. It’s quickly hidden again behind a large estate. But not for long.
I pull into the scenic overlook and turn off the engine.
“Oh,” she breathes. “ Oh .”
She’s already out of the car, leaving the door open. I chuckle and exit, too. “What do you think?”
“It’s gorgeous.” She’s looking at the glittering expanse of Los Angeles. It spreads as far as the eye can see, disappearing to the west into a solid blackness of the ocean. “We’re higher in elevation than your house.”
“Yes. Much higher.”
She leans back against the hood of my Jeep. Her eyes are trained on the city far below us.
“This all feels like a fever dream,” she says. “This place. That restaurant. Your house. All of it.”
“Is it a good dream?”
She wraps her arms around herself, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “Yes. I never saw LA like this the last time I was here. There’s so many things I never did.”
“What have you not done?”
“I haven’t surfed. I never hiked up these mountains. Um… that observatory? I’ve never gone over to check it out.”
I open the trunk and find the bag of spare hiking clothes I keep in here. “Griffith,” I call.
“Yes. That’s it. I haven’t been there yet.”
“We’ll go,” I promise her and pull out a blue hoodie. “We’ll hit the Getty, too. And I’ll take you surfing.”
I hand her the sweater. She looks at it for a moment before smiling. “Thanks.”
“It’s cool at this time of night.”
“Yup.” She pulls it over her head and slides her arms into the sleeves. They’re too long, falling to cover her hands completely. Fabric pools around her, and she sighs a little. Like she’s content.
The sight is too fucking cute.
“And the ocean. I haven’t been out on it,” she says softly.
“Well, Chaos, we’ll have to solve that, too.” The family house in Malibu is mostly empty these days. Mom is there sometimes, but, mostly, she stays up in Sonoma. She’s found a new group of friends there. A slower life. I think it’s been good for her. “It wouldn’t be hard at all.”
Her lips curve a little. There’s an expression on her face like she doesn’t believe me, but is indulging me nonetheless.
I mean every word.
I lean beside her on the Jeep. She looks at me, and then she jumps up onto the hood. She just barely makes it, and I’m there immediately, hands on her thighs to push her back up.
“Whoops,” she says.
“You good?”
“Yes. It was higher than I thought.” She leans back, resting her hands behind her on the windshield. She’s now as tall as me. Her face is only an inch or two higher. “Do you come up here a lot?”
“Some months more often than others,” I say. There had been days—when my father’s court trial was imminent—after spending fifteen hours at the office and with lawyers and accountants, I would buy food and drive up here around midnight. It felt like the only time I could breathe.
The only time I could relax.
“It’s a beautiful place,” she says. Her voice turns teasing. “You probably take all your girls up here.”
“I’ve never taken anyone up here.”
She blushes, that cute beautiful flush across her skin. She’s sitting on the hood of my Jeep, and I want her there—always. On my things. In my house. Wearing my sweater.
Caleb might have gotten her smiles down there, but up here, she’s mine.
“I’m not sure I believe you,” she says.
“Have I ever lied to you?”
She considers the question. Then she shakes her head. “No,” she admits. “You haven’t.”
“You’ve been right in the past, you know. I have kept things to myself. But I haven’t lied.”
She braces her hands against the hood. “I can understand that. I’ve done… the same.”
“It’s hard.”
“What is?”
“Trusting someone new.”
She nods, ever so slightly. There’s almost no illumination up here. Just enough ambient light from the glittering city and the stars above to see her, spotlit by a million little pinpricks of light.
“Yes. It is. I feel that way, too,” she says.
I step closer, my hand on the hood next to hers. “You’ve been hurt in the past.”
Her eyes slide from the view to mine and something sharpens in them. I see it, as she fortifies her walls.
But then she sighs, and she’s my Charlotte again, here with me in the midnight air. “Is it that obvious?”
“No, actually. You’re good at hiding it.”
“But you can see it.”
“Yes.” There’s an edge to her, and a life that lets her pick up and run every few months. Few people could work the way she does.
“It was a long time ago,” she says.
I step closer, and her knees widen a bit, as if welcoming me between them. The desire to fill that spot wells up so strongly, that I need to take a deep breath to suppress it.
“So was mine.”
“Mm-hmm. But you live with the consequences every day,” she says. “It scars you. Experiences like that.”
“You’re a mystery, Charlotte Gray.”
Her lips tip up a little, but the smile is tempered by the sudden shyness in her eyes. “Don’t try to figure me out.”
“Why not?”
“You might not like what you find.”
“That’s impossible, Chaos.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not.”
I step in between her thighs and rest my palms on the hood beside her knees. “You haven’t run from me, yet. And you know my family’s deepest, darkest secrets.”
“No, I don’t,” she says softly. “And what I know is that your father made mistakes. I haven’t seen or learned of any made by you, yet.”
“I love the use of yet in that sentence. Very confidence-inspiring.”
She smiles again. Looks down at me, and at herself. Only inches separating us.
“Aiden,” she murmurs. “What are we doing here?”
My hands tighten against the warm steel. “I don’t know, Chaos. But I know that I like it.”
“We work together.” But her eyes are on mine, and that delicious color is sneaking up her cheeks again. “I need to finish this memoir to impress Vera.”
“Mm-hmm. And I need it in order for the Board to approve my purchase of BingeBox.”
“We both have important things riding on this book.” She’s close enough that I could just lean forward. Fit her lips to mine.
“We do. And we’re also both attracted to one another.”
Her breath whooshes out of her. It feels like it takes an eon for her to agree. “Yes. But it’s nothing more than that.” She shakes her head some more, like she’s trying to clear it. “You and I, we come from different worlds.”
“I know. Nothing serious.”
She dips her head in a nod. “Nothing serious. That’s rule one. The second things get emotional for either of us…”
“We stop?”
She nods again. “Yes. We can’t let it get messy.”
“Sounds perfect.” My mouth hovers only a few inches from hers. There’s an intoxicating air between us, and I want nothing more than to close it. But I also never want this moment to end. “Whatever this is, it won’t affect our working relationship. That’s rule number two.”
“Yes. It can’t stand in the way of the memoir.” Her hands come to lie flat on my chest. I feel their warmth through the fabric of my shirt, and sway into her touch.
“It won’t.” I slide my hands up to her thighs.
“Aiden,” she whispers. I feel her breath against my lips. “Should we write these two rules down, or do you think you can remember them?”
I pause and struggle not to smile. “Do you want me to kiss you or not?”
Her fingers find the collar of my button-down, tightening around the starched flaps to pull me closer. “Kiss me.”
So I do.