Chapter 11
Starla
The red and white ambulance at the end of the street catches my attention as I’m about to walk into my store, coming from lunch. I watch him for a bit from afar.
His brow is furrowed as he leans against the side of the truck, probably taking a rare moment to catch his breath between calls. My heart aches for him. It's been weeks since I've seen him in person, but we’ve texted each day, mainly just to say hi. It’s not much; I just like to know that he’s still hanging in there.
"Hey, tiger," I try to be playful and upbeat as I walk towards him. He looks like he could use a pick-me-up. "Rough day?"
He turns to me, visibly exhausted but managing a slight grin. "It never ends, Starla. You know how it is. It’s good to see you, though."
"Glad just my presence could brighten your day." I want to do something special for him – something to help alleviate even just a fraction of his stress.
"Listen," I begin, fishing my phone from my jacket pocket. "Do you by chance have a little time tonight to come over to my place? I can cook us dinner, and we can just relax and forget about shit for a few hours."
Aaron hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. I can see the wheels turning in his head, calculating if he has the energy to engage in anything beyond collapsing into bed. Before he can respond, the blaring of the ambulance radio cuts off our conversation.
"Sorry, Starla," he says hurriedly, eyes darting to the vehicle. "Duty calls. I’ll let you know how my day finishes up to see about tonight."
"Oh, yeah, sure, no problem."
The workday finishes up, and I cook dinner on the off chance of Aaron being able to stop by. However, as the hours pass, the food has been packaged into covered dishes and put away in the fridge. I don’t think he’s coming.
With a glance at the clock, it’s now closer to ten, and I’m dressing for bed when I hear a knock at the door. I throw my tank top with my flannel pants on quickly to rush to the front door, peeking out the peephole to see Aaron.
“Hey, you,” I greet as I open the door.
“Hey, you,” he replies with a small smile. “Sorry, is it too late?” He rakes his eyes over my body in my pajamas.
“Not at all. Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I’m starving,” he says, and I smile.
“Okay, food coming right up. Please, make yourself at home while I warm you a plate.”
As I spoon out some spaghetti to put in a large bowl to microwave, my thoughts drift to images I shouldn’t be having while warming up leftovers. I envision his strong hands cradling the back of my neck, bringing his lips close to mine. God, the way his body feels up against me.
Fucking hell, Starla. Get a grip.
The microwave dings and I remove the bowl, giving the spaghetti one last stir before spooning it onto a plate and adding some garlic toast on the side. It's a meal fit for a king - or at least a weary paramedic in need of some tender loving care.
"Wow, Starla, this looks amazing," he says, sitting at the table. I take my place in the chair across from him. The space is needed to calm my libido.
"It's been a while since we’ve hung out," I reply. "I wanted tonight to be good for you."
Before he even takes his first bite, he stands and walks over to my side of the table. He reaches for my hand to guide me to stand.
"Thank you," he whispers, pulling me in for a hug. We stand there, wrapped up in each other's arms, before I gently pull away.
“Eat, you don’t want it to get cold,” I instruct.
“With how good this smells, I bet it’s just as good in a frozen block.”
“Gross, I don’t think so.” I shake my head and we both laugh.
Conversation flows easily between us. We laugh over things about our pasts, funny memories, things that happen in our daily lives. Being with Aaron is the easiest thing I’ve ever done..
"You're an amazing woman, you know that?" he states off topic, catching my gaze.
“Thanks, you’re pretty amazing too,” I admit, not breaking eye contact.
Aaron has these blue eyes that I could get lost in for days. I can feel the shift in the room, in our friendship, as a flame ignites between us, like the embers of a smoldering fire waiting to be stoked, but I know that’s not why he’s here.
He’s here to relax. But damn that would be a great way to relax.
Fucking hell. Nope.
“How about we move to the living room and stream surf to see if we see anything we’d like to watch?” I swiftly break eye contact, subject change, and position change to give this man some space before I pounce on him.
“Yeah,” he says with a little cough and shifts in his chair before he rises up from the table. “That sounds, umm, good.”
We both walk a few steps to the couch, the only place to sit in my living room, and I grab the remote before I sit. He follows suit, but instead of sitting on the opposite corner of the couch, he sits in the middle and tucks me close to him with his arm resting on the back of the couch.
Calm down, Starla! I tell myself, knowing that I’m not going to deny this man anything that he initiates.