Chapter Sixteen #3
Drew stands a few feet behind me, waiting.
Aaron at my back, anticipating my next move.
And the most painful part is, as much as I like Drew, I don’t love him.
And he knows that. I’ve never said it. Not just tonight.
It’s a test in front of Aaron. Will I fold and say it to make a statement to him or let him know I don’t love Drew. I clench my fists.
“Thank you.” I keep walking. I am no one’s pawn.
Kayla, Felix, and Amber pretend like we never stepped away. We decide where we’ll go for pancakes and what booze we’ll drink. Eventually, Kayla leaves with her friends, and the rest of us head to IHOP.
Now I’m sitting in the den on the floor as I stare at my phone. We’re all pretty buzzed, and Drew’s trying to call me. I can feel my head getting fuzzier and fuzzier.
“Gonna get that?” Aaron asks, sitting next to me. He’s changed into sweats and an old soccer shirt.
“Ah,” I sigh. “I don’t know, actually. What do I say if I do?” I turn and look at him—his eyes so close to mine and so bright, so clear.
“I think he remembers last year’s graduation party.” My eyes widen; face flushing. “And probably thinks I plan on getting revenge like an angry middle schooler.” This pulls a small laugh out of me, tilting his lips up just a bit.
“Yeah, that’s probably true.” Avoiding the intensity in his gaze, I turn and stare ahead of us. “That’s pretty close to what we were fighting about, actually.” There’s a moment of silence before he asks,
“What were you fighting about?” When I move my head too fast everything spins, so I slowly let it drop back onto the couch cushion behind me.
“Drew thinks you’ll force yourself on me when I’m drunk.
” I roll my head to the left, taking in the pure shock and disgust on his face, and laugh.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. I told him you wouldn’t do that, and he said he didn’t believe me—and that pissed me off.
But then he stopped me and said even though I have a twisted affection for you, he’s still allowed to have his own opinion. ”
“What the fuck?” Aaron’s staring at me like I’m crazy, like I’m not making any sense.
“I told him,” I sit up and mock a very serious guy because I was totally that serious when this happened.
God, am I drunk? “Why is your opinion valid, but mine is twisted?” I laugh, leaning back against the couch, looking up at him.
He has an arm propped on the cushion next to mine, head in hand, staring down at me.
“Good point, Button. That was clever.” I grin, leaning in conspiratorially.
“Yeah? Was that good? I feel like that was really good. Like maybe I was in a movie?” Aaron laughs and nods a little—those green eyes so warm I could melt.
“Definitely. You did a really good job.”
Suddenly, the air around us is too hot and my clothes are too tight. I feel like I’m sweating. Was he this pretty earlier? I think he was. I want him to say that again. Say it against me…
“Anyway,” I say abruptly, looking back up at the ceiling. “Then he was all, think of everything he’s done—and that pissed me off, so I pulled away. But not too hard, because I know I could probably lay his ass out. I’m not that worried.” Aaron busts out laughing again, eyes wide with amusement.
“Yeah, you probably could.” I’m grinning at the ceiling; eyes closed to help with the world spinning.
“But he wouldn’t let go, so I looked at him and said you don’t know anything about him.
And I think that pissed him off. But I can’t really be bothered right now, and I don’t even know what I’d say if I answered.
” There’s a beat of silence, so I roll my head and look at Aaron.
He’s staring down at me, smiling softly.
I can’t read what’s in his eyes, but I want it to stay forever.
It’s so warm; it makes his whole face so soft. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing. It’s just nice that you defended me.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I’m not gonna let him turn you into the bad guy. Like, he’s convinced you’re crazy or something.” Aaron chuckles.
“Why?”
“When I told him about that night after my dad saw us, he let a lot of his thoughts out for the first time. Like the bite on my thigh. He’s freaked out by it—thinks it’s degrading or something.
Won’t even acknowledge it or go near it.
Then he said—and Aaron, for real, this is word for word, okay?
It’s been circling my brain since last August.” He nods, suddenly serious.
“He said, I won’t be the guy that fucks into you like an animal.
I respect you. I actually love you. And then left.
But before he left, he had also told me that I need to reflect on how I view what we did together—because what you’ve done to me isn’t love. That you don’t love me.”
I feel Aaron’s stare as he looks down at me, and when I finally get the courage to look at him, his eyes are sad again. Just like they used to be. So cold, so sad.
“I don’t believe him.” I whisper. “I did reflect. And all I remember about those nights are your eyes and how you looked at me.”
“And how was that, Button?” His voice is strained, like he’s trying hard to speak—or to keep from saying too much.
“Like I was yours. Like you would eat me whole, like you could look at me all day.” Aaron’s face flushes: his eyes briefly drop to my mouth, then return to mine.
“But mostly, more than anything else, it’s the longing.
It felt like you were pleading with me, begging.
But I never figured out what for.” His jaw is clenched, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed.
What is he thinking? “Do you remember, Aaron? Do you remember what you were begging me for when I had already given you all of me?”
“Button, am I still banned from touching you?” It takes my drunk brain a second to comprehend that he’s not answering my question but asking his own.
The fact that he’s kept up with that demand—that he’s only touched me twice in a year and a half.
Once under necessary circumstances and once on permission.
It makes me feel good. Like he cares. And more than anything, it makes me fucking laugh. So I do.
Aaron tilts his head, a curious expression taking over his features.
“I told you that a year and a half ago, Aaron.”
“Yes, and you’ve never told me otherwise. So it still stands.” He’s so serious, and that makes it funnier.
“Sorry, I don’t know why this is so funny.” He’s smiling again, and that warm look has come back into his eyes—swarming around, making a scene, like it wants me to see. Wants me to know it’s here. I’ll have to remember when I wake up that if I want him to smile, all I have to do is laugh.
I notice that I’ve slid over a bit—now tucked into him where his arm is propped—so when he looks down at me, it’s almost straight down, and I can smell him so clearly it makes me a bit dizzy.
I’m realizing something revolutionary at this moment.
I think Aaron is the one true love of my life.
That one soulmate everyone talks about and searches for.
And because all things in my life must hurt me at least once, he was also born to say goodbye.
All little birdies fly away eventually, once their wings are fixed.
“Yes, Aaron, you’re allowed to touch me again.”