Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
That night, I pulled out a bunch of different outfits and laid them out on my bed. Usually on a date, I’d wear my jeans or a miniskirt and a nice shirt. But what do you wear on a date with a man you don’t actually like?
Alexa was lying on top of my bed, her head hanging off the side, watching me hold up different shirts in front of my chest.
“So, tell me again how this isn’t really a date, because I’m not buying it.”
No one was. My group chat was blowing up with texts, mainly from Logan and Jess. Logan was convinced this was a date, but Jess was convinced Aiden was going to murder me by the end of the night.
Logan: this is the funniest possible outcome of the cowriting, i can’t believe we get to witness this for free
Jess: again, not for free
Tyler: Rosie, text us if you need us.
Jess: ^^ who knows what weird shit aiden might be up to
Logan: oh pls we all know theyre going to fuck tonight
Jess: don’t be so crude
Logan : i’m not!!! but … rosie you have to let us know if he’s a freak in bed i bet he has a red room
Jess: he definitely has a sex swing at the very least
Tyler: What’s a sex swing?
Logan: i’ll send you some links
Tyler: Please don’t.
Jess: rosie at least send your location so we know where the body is in case he murders you
Logan: yeah that way we can all see when you get to his place
Jess: not going to happen logan
Logan: wow who knew none of you believed in the power of winter nights. it’s cold outside and its cuffing season and that makes people CRAZY HORNY
Jess: pls shut up
Tyler: ^^
I let my phone buzz on my bed, not replying to the texts.
“It’s not a date, it’s homework,” I insisted to Alexa. That’s what I kept telling myself at least. If I didn’t repeat this in my head over and over, my mind would drift. I’d start to romanticize everything and read into details that weren’t even there, and then I’d fall in love with a version of Aiden I created in my head. It’d happened to me with Simon when I was fifteen and I didn’t snap out of it for almost a decade.
It had been a while since I’d been on a date. After Simon and I broke up, I said yes to every guy who asked me to get drinks. I was so eager to step into this pool of dating and get over Simon, but I quickly learned love could be a ruthless game. The guys would frown when I ordered something with a carb or refused to kiss them or go back to their place. One guy left in outrage after I said I wouldn’t Venmo him two hundred dollars because he was low on cash.
“Are you nervous?” Alexa sat up, resting against my headboard.
“A little,” I admitted.
“He’s not Simon, you know.”
Honestly, that’s what I was afraid of anytime I went out on a date. That I wouldn’t be able to read the signs and would fall for someone like Simon all over again.
I wanted the kind of love you treated gently, like it could break. The kind that was intense and real. The kind you fought for , not against. And maybe I was wrong and love like that didn’t exist. But I wanted to get as close as I could to that feeling.
“I know that.” I decided to wear a long sleeve maroon top with a sweetheart neckline and my black jeans. I put them on and turned around to show Alexa. “How do I look?”
She smiled. “You two are definitely going to fuck by the end of the night.”
I groaned and threw a nearby pillow at her. “It’s not like that.”
“Suuuure,” she dragged out. “Your tits are basically hanging out of that shirt. The minute Aiden sees you his tongue is going to roll out of his mouth like a cartoon dog.”
Maybe the tiniest part of me hoped Aiden thought I looked nice. It was probably just the delusional romantic in me, but I hid my smile at the idea.
At seven exactly, as I was finishing my makeup, there was a knock on our door. I jumped, nearly smearing my lipstick, and turned to Alexa still sitting on my bed.
“Did you buzz him up?”
“No. Ronny Jr. must’ve let him in.”
I sighed, trying to ignore the nerves as I opened the door to Aiden Huntington—looking mad as ever. His peacoat was buttoned up, a black scarf tied around his neck. His hair was usually perfectly tousled, but tonight he had combed it back neatly. The smell of his oaky cologne overpowered me from the second I opened the door. What did it say about me that he looked extra hot when he was mad?
“There’s a brick holding open the door to your building,” he said hotly. His words were harsh. His jaw was clenched, the muscle in his cheek jumping.
“Nice to see you, too, Aiden,” I said.
“Rosalinda,” he cut in. “Anyone can just walk in your building.”
“I’ll have you know that brick is named Ronny Jr. He helps Ronny Sr. get in the building when he forgets his keys,” I said lightly, hoping he would move on.
His eyes narrowed dangerously, a grim expression overtaking his face. “You know about this brick? And you haven’t done anything to stop it?”
“It’s not a big deal, I have a lock.” I pulled at the chain on my door frame to prove it to him. “Are you going to keep critiquing the safety of my building or are we going to dinner?”
“Rosalinda, this is ridiculous. Even for you.”
Aiden had a Rolex. He wore expensive, Italian cologne and probably only took the subway instead of an Uber because he got inspiration for his writing from it. It was obvious he didn’t have to worry about money, but I did. I’d learned to love the poorly built building that I called home, and I didn’t appreciate Aiden talking shit about it.
“Great, I’ll move out tomorrow now that I have your approval. Can we go?”
“That’s not what I—”
“Leaving,” I called out to Alexa. “I’ll be back later.”
“Hopefully not,” she sang back from her bedroom.
I rolled my eyes and all but pushed Aiden out the door. “Where to?”
He led me to an Italian restaurant a few blocks away called il Buco. I’d passed this place plenty of times, lingering in front of the building just to get a whiff of food that wasn’t coming from a ramen noodle package. It was a small restaurant, but there were plenty of people standing on the sidewalk, waiting for their tables. Once we entered, I immediately fell in love with the place. Nearly every inch of the interior was decorated. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, glowing in the candlelight of the room. The bookcases along the walls held old cookbooks, vases, and bottles of wine. The restaurant felt more like a grandmother’s home than an upscale eatery in the Bowery. Soft Italian music blended with the conversation of all the customers. The smell of fresh basil and rosemary filled the air and my stomach growled in anticipation.
I frowned as I watched the hostess sympathetically shake her head at everyone in line before us. I had worked at the Hideout long enough to recognize that look. With how busy it was, there was no way Aiden and I would get a table in a timely manner.
“Are we going to be able to eat here?” I asked Aiden. “It looks busy.”
“I’ve made a reservation,” he said.
“How’d you do that so last minute?”
“I pulled a few strings.”
“But how—”
He sighed, resigned. “Are you going to keep asking questions or are we going to eat?” Nearly every table was full, couples huddled close together over the tables. I eyed him skeptically as he stepped up to the hostess stand. “I have a reservation for Huntington.” She nodded and grabbed two menus.
“Right this way.” She led us through the restaurant to a small table in front of a brick wall. Aiden motioned for me to sit on the booth side of the table and took the wooden seat.
Aiden and I sat uncomfortably across from each other. I crossed my ankles, forcing them as far away as much as possible because my knees were already grazing his. The last thing I needed was to be caught in a game of footsie with Aiden Huntington.
“Seriously Aiden, how’d you get a reservation so quickly?”
His lips were set in a tight line. “I called my father.”
“You called your father?”
He flipped through his menu and hummed noncommittally. I wondered what it was like to have a father that could get you anything you wanted within just a few hours. A nice reservation at a fancy restaurant, a car, maybe a palace or two. If I called my dad for something, he’d laugh loudly and say, “I can send over some fresh basil from the garden, but that’s about it.”
I frowned and opened my menu, balking at the prices for each entree. Christ, even a side salad cost fifteen bucks, no way would I be able to afford any of this.
“Good evening.” A waitress stopped at our table. “Are we celebrating anything tonight?”
Just as Aiden was about to shake his head, I had an idea. My foot drove into his shin under the table and said, “It’s our anniversary!”
Aiden’s hand shot down to rub his shin, shooting me a bewildered look.
“Oh, how special! How long?” The waitress beamed at us.
“Happily together for three years! Isn’t that right, honey?”
Aiden narrowed his eyes. I widened my eyes, telling him to play along. “Three years of pure bliss,” he strained.
“Thank you for celebrating with us at il Buco. Anything to drink?”
Aiden nodded for me to go first. I didn’t have to open the menu to know a cocktail would be at least eighteen dollars. “Just water for me.”
Aiden ordered the same and our waitress smiled down at us, “I’ll come back in a little while to take your orders!”
I smiled sweetly at her as she walked away.
“What was that about?” Aiden asked, his brows drawing a V between his eyes.
“We’re supposed to be pretending to be a happy couple. I thought maybe she’d offer us champagne or whatever. It’s what they’d do in Tennessee.”
Aiden scoffed. “Welcome to New York. Nothing is free here.”
“I just thought it’d be a good idea,” I snapped. “We’re supposed to be Max and Hunter while we’re here.”
“Max and Hunter don’t like each other,” he countered. “They haven’t been together for three years.”
“Fine. Then I guess we can just sit here in silence and tell Ida it went fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I snatched up my menu and skimmed it for the cheapest item. A light Caesar side salad should hold me over until tomorrow, and it wouldn’t be too costly on my bank account. I’d gulp it down, then get out of here as soon as possible.
I took in the tables around us. We must’ve looked like we were on a first date. A first blind date. The restaurant was bustling, the staff running around. I winced, knowing that this was what was probably happening at the Hideout tonight, too. I felt bad for all the workers, hurrying to bring food to tables and fill water glasses.
The minutes felt like agonizing hours as we waited for our waitress to return. I couldn’t take it anymore and had to break the silence.
“You know, this place is really romantic. I mean look at all the couples here.” I nodded toward another table where a couple was sitting on the same side of the booth. “It was a good choice.”
He gave me a tight smile. He was watching the crackling fire of the candle between us like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. I blew out a breath, annoyed that Aiden wouldn’t contribute to the conversation, but pushed forward, nonetheless.
“This won’t work if we don’t talk.” Aiden’s eyes flashed at me again, then he carefully unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap. “I just meant that maybe everyone in workshop has a point. As much as I love hurling insults at you in our chapters, we do need to make Hunter and Max fall in love. I know they aren’t there yet, but it’s up to us to get them there.”
“I’m having a hard time not hurling insults. It’s the norm with you.”
“Well then. Maybe we should say mean things.” I straightened.
“What?”
“It’s the only way you and I know how to talk to each other. So I say we act normal and be mean.” The corners of Aiden’s mouth quirked up, but he didn’t say anything. “Fine. I’ll go first. You were rude at my apartment.”
He frowned. “No I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were. About Ronny Jr.?”
“It’s a stupid way to keep the door open. Especially in your neighborhood—”
“Blah, blah, all I hear are insults about the place I pay a very high rent for.” I waved my hand. “But I’m over it now that I’ve said you’re a jackass to your face.”
“You didn’t say I was a jackass.”
“ Anyway. Your turn.”
“Fine. You’re not very good at walking in heels,” he said, hesitating, as if he wasn’t sure if it was okay.
I gasped dramatically. “Not true!”
I had tripped nearly every step of the way, but I’d hoped he hadn’t noticed it. In my defense, we’d walked down Bond Street—which was cobblestone . It was practically impossible to walk on cobblestones even in sneakers.
“So I just imagined when you nearly face planted a few minutes ago?” He smirked, leaning back in his chair.
“You know, I think I meant it when I called you a jackass earlier.”
Aiden ignored that comment. “I just pretended not to notice because I’m a gentleman.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, right. If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”
“If you were a lady, you’d be able to walk in heels,” he pointed out, his voice light.
“Hey, I never claimed I was.”
The waitress finally came back to take our orders. Aiden’s frown deepened when I only got the salad, but he didn’t say anything. She left us with a small basket of bread and butter. I knew that salad wouldn’t fill me up so I snatched a piece up immediately.
“How’d the middle school dance end up going?” I asked, stuffing a piece of bread in my mouth.
He grimaced. “Most of those kids haven’t figured out deodorant yet. And I can’t tell you the amount of grind lines I had to break up.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Gross. I always stayed by the snacks when those started. By far, the best part of the middle school dances were the moms who brought in cupcakes.”
“You went to those dances?” He must’ve caught me eyeing the breadbasket because he scootched it closer to me. I flashed him an appreciative smile, taking two more pieces. Then the final one for good measure.
“You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “It was always just an excuse to show off for girls and dance awkwardly in front of parents and teachers. I didn’t ever see a reason to go.”
“I went because of Trent Walsh,” I said dreamily. “He was the hottest guy in middle school. He had swoopy hair, his jeans sagged, and he had a chain.”
“So what? You went in hopes he’d dance with you?” His tone wasn’t judgmental, but curious. As if he hadn’t experienced the normalcy of having a crush as a middle schooler.
“I went because I knew he’d dance with me,” I corrected. “He told everyone that Friday that he liked my hair and thought I was the smartest girl in the grade. We danced to Coldplay. The gym lights were dim, we were in a corner, and he didn’t even try to grab my ass. It was so romantic. He was my first kiss.”
Aiden cleared his throat, suppressing a smile. Why was he always so reluctant to smile? Why did he force them away instead of inviting them to cover his face?
When our food finally arrived, I stared at Aiden’s plate of pasta with envy. It was piled onto his plate and garnished with fresh basil. He expertly twirled the noodles around his fork as I angrily stabbed at the lettuce of my pathetic salad. I couldn’t even afford the grilled chicken add-on.
I must’ve been staring at Aiden’s plate for too long because he stopped eating. He raised an eyebrow and offered his fork forward to me.
“Do you want some?”
I shook my head, shaking myself out of my pasta daydreams. “No, that’s okay.”
“You know,” he said carefully. “Dinner’s on me tonight.”
I stilled, narrowing my eyes at him. “What makes you say that?”
“I’m just saying, order what you want from the menu. I’m paying.”
“I can pay for my own food.”
“It’s a date, Rosalinda.”
“I’m a feminist—”
“So am I,” he cut me off. He cleared his throat and carefully placed his fork next to his plate. “I took you out, I’ll pay for your meal. Get something more filling.”
“I’m plenty full.” I was lying, but I was also too proud to tell him I was starving. Maybe this was all a ploy. He knew to offer to pay for my food because he told the staff to—
“Stop overthinking,” he interrupted my thoughts.
I sighed. “This place is already expensive as it is. I’m not letting you pay for two of my entrees.”
He rolled his eyes, like I was the one being annoying. He flagged down our waitress and asked for an extra plate.
“What’re you doing?”
He gave me an impatient look before he carefully moved half of his pasta onto the extra plate and set it in front of me. “There. Now I don’t have to pay extra or watch you stare glumly at your little salad.”
“Did you just say glumly?” I raised my eyebrows, smiling slightly.
“Eat your food.” He sighed, as if he was tired of me. But he didn’t start eating until I hesitantly picked up my fork.
Aiden turned his attention back to his own meal as I stuffed as much pasta as I could in my mouth. He looked up when I moaned, shifting uncomfortably.
“Oh Lord,” I said through a mouthful of food. “This is so good. This may be the best meal I’ve ever had.” The corners of Aiden’s mouth twitched as I continued to shovel food into my mouth. “Aiden, I owe you big time. We can kill a character. We can do whatever, this is the best pasta I’ve ever had. Thank you so much.”
“You’ve got marinara sauce all over your mouth.”
“That may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe it was my food starved brain. Maybe it was the pasta. Or maybe it was the slightly authoritative tone Aiden seemed to always take around me. But he was a man wearing a nice sweater, sitting across from me, and had offered me half of his pasta. How did a girl not find that romantic?
“Aren’t we supposed to be pretending to be Max and Hunter?” he asked, sipping his water.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, don’t we do that anyway?”
“Fair enough, but it might be worth a shot.”
I sat up, straightening the napkin on my lap. “Well, Hunter, how are you?”
“I’m doing fine, Maxine. How about you?” he said flatly, but still playing along.
“What’s with the Maxine? You know everyone else calls me Max.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” I tipped my water glass up, swallowing it down. “You do it for some reason. You’ve always called me Rosalinda.”
“Maxine,” he corrected.
I waved a dismissive hand. “Same thing and you know it.”
“Next question,” he said.
“That’s not how you move through life, you know. You can’t just avoid questions in conversations because you’re uncomfortable—”
“I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Oh puh-lease, you’re basically squirming in your chair.”
“You’re deluded.”
“A little bit,” I said with a laugh. The waitress interrupted us with a dessert menu.
“Are you lovebirds thinking about dessert?”
“Oh, no.” I pushed it away from me. “I think we’ll just take the check. If you could split—”
“Rosalinda, order dessert,” Aiden said, sounding utterly exhausted.
“No,” I said, pushing the menu toward the waitress.
“I know you have a sweet tooth. I know you want dessert. Just order some.” He was pushing his own menu toward me. The waitress looked between us, hesitantly stepping away.
“Why don’t I give you two a few minutes to decide?”
“That’s not necessary,” I said.
“Thank you,” Aiden said at the same time.
I glared at him from across the table. He held out the menu again. I folded my arms across my chest, lifting my chin defiantly.
“Just order some damn dessert, Rosie. I’m paying.”
“No way. I’m not letting you buy me a salad that I didn’t even eat, give me half of your food, and pay for dessert. It’s too much.”
“It’s not too much,” he said. His brow was furrowed, that same stern tone in his voice that made my insides melt. “You come into class nearly every day with a different form of chocolate. Just order.”
I tried not to let my shock show because that was true. I couldn’t go a few hours without some sort of sweet. I usually kept M&Ms in my bag but sometimes if I got a nice tip, I bought cookies or a chocolate croissant from the bakery a few blocks down. And sometimes I stole Morochas, Peruvian cookies, from Alexa.
Then again, maybe it was obvious that I did this. Maybe it meant absolutely nothing that Aiden paid attention to what I did in class and remembered it. Stored it away in a file in his brain of random facts about Rosalinda. It was probably ammo for later.
But I really did want dessert.
“Fine.” I took the menu from him. “But you have to eat some, too.”
“Oh no, am I being forced to eat chocolate cake? Whatever shall I do?” he deadpanned.
I raised a brow. “How do you know I’m getting the chocolate cake?”
“Because there’s no way you’re getting the tiramisu,” he said as if it were obvious. He sat forward and gently took the menu from me. His green eyes were shining in the candlelight and I wished, just for a second, that this was real. That we were on a real date. I quickly dismissed the thought because in no universe would Aiden Huntington and I ever be together.
“Am I right?” he asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yes,” I muttered.
He lifted his chin. “Knew it.”
The waitress brought out the dessert soon enough. When Aiden dove in for a piece of cake, my spoon clanked against his, stealing it. He paused at this, but when I did it a second time his gaze flew up to mine.
I popped the spoon in my mouth, giving him a cheeky smile. Something flashed in his eyes and then he stole the next bite from me. We continued to battle it out and when Aiden shoved my napkin off my lap to distract me while he snatched the next bite, I gasped.
“Cheater.”
He stuck the spoon in his mouth and said, as close to playful as Aiden got, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
When the waitress came with our check, I put up a valiant fight to pay. “Let me,” I said, reaching for the black book.
Aiden was unamused, not even looking up from the check. “We’ve already discussed this.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“No.”
“Please, I want to—”
“Fine.” Aiden snapped the black book closed and slid it over to me. “Go for it.”
I slowly flipped it open, my eyes widening at the number at the bottom of the receipt. “You know, I was thinking about it and maybe it’s best—”
He rolled his eyes once again and snatched it back from me.
Later, as we walked home, the same silence that had haunted us for most of the night reappeared. It wove around us, between skyscrapers and city lights, to wrap us fully in discomfort.
“Tonight was …” I paused, trying to find the right word. I looked up into the night sky, trying to find the politest way to say disaster.
“We’ll make it better in the chapter,” he said as we stopped in front of my apartment building. “Writing’s in the revisions, yeah?”
To fully meet his gaze, I had to crane my neck. I tried not to let the atmosphere get to me, but God he was handsome in this surprisingly rugged way. In the way his eyebrows stayed furrowed and complemented the darkness of his hair but contrasted the lightness of his eyes. His nose was slightly crooked but it only made him look even more perfect. Sometimes when I looked at him I was sure somebody just like him had been the inspiration for Clark Kent.
We stood there, our breaths visible in the cold, the white puffs as prominent as the silence we were entrenched in. I believed anything could be romantic if you looked at it in the right light. But this was not romantic. We waited for the other to say something that gave us an escape. He shifted his weight, looking toward my building, and I pulled my coat around me, looking at the ground. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and shoved my hands in my coat pockets.
“Well, I’ll see you next week.” I awkwardly turned around and rushed into the building.
“?Por qu é est á s aqu í ?” Alexa demanded when I entered the apartment. “You should be at his place. Naked.”
“We already did that,” I said sarcastically, walking to the kitchen. I pulled a glass out from the cabinet and ran it under the tap.
“Ha ha, very funny. How was it?”
“Exactly what I expected.” I gulped down the water. “Horrible, awkward, painful.” Sure, there were a few moments that didn’t make me want to die. But how was I supposed to write those moments knowing Aiden would read it? “I can’t imagine it helping to inspire anything for our chapter.”
She smiled. “I’m sure something will come through.”
After I took off my makeup and threw on some sweats, I checked my phone and scrolled through the millions of texts from the group chat.
Logan: i’m telling you guys she’s at his place
Jess: or dead
Logan: don’t say that!!!!
Jess: it’s a real possibility. we don’t really know aiden
Tyler: To be fair, none of us really try to talk to him.
Logan: oh pls, that’s bc he scares us
Jess: we need to save rosie
Tyler: They’re probably still on the date. Let’s not panic yet.
I rolled onto my side, pulling my blanket around my shoulders.
Rosie: date is over. so bad. i want to die
Logan: tell us everything.
Rosie: we went to a nice restaurant, didn’t rly speak, and then he awkwardly walked me home
Tyler: He walked you home? That was nice of him.
Jess: or the BARE MINIMUM. can we pls stop praising men for doing the bare minimum??
Logan: sooo true bestie
Jess: shut up logan
Tyler: I can’t wait to read about it in workshop.
Logan: this is more of a horror than a romance
Rosie: y’all are ridiculous
I muted the conversation and spent the next hour scrolling through Twitter. Just as I was drifting into sleep, I got another text.
Aiden: Chapter done.
Eagerly, I reached for my laptop on my nightstand and opened our shared doc. The icon with his picture was still on the doc, his cursor at his last words, which meant he was still online and viewing the document. I scrolled to the top of his chapter and started reading.
It was unexpected when Maxine invited me out for dinner. It was even more unexpected when I couldn’t shake my nerves.
I tried to remind myself it wasn’t a real date. Rather a dinner between two colleagues. Who despised each other. Who’d never really seen each other outside of work. Who I desperately tried to make conversation with every day only to ruin everything a moment later.
I willed the anxiousness away, but there was something more hanging in the air. That’s the way it always was with Maxine. We hurled insults back and forth, but how much of them did we really mean?
It’s not a date. It’s a dinner between colleagues. That’s it. I repeated it like a mantra in my head. I hadn’t been on a real date since my last relationship, and even then I wasn’t in the right mind to focus on my date because of everything that had happened with my mom. I wasn’t in any position to put myself out there when it felt like my world had crumbled. The truth was Maxine was so deep under my skin, it was like she had become my veins, not leaving a single part of me untouched. Dating had never been my priority, but I couldn’t say no to her.
— Excerpt from Untitled by Rosie Maxwell and Aiden Huntington