Nudge 29 The Safe Space
The Safe Space
Iwake up the next morning and reach over to feel an empty space where Aiden lay the night before. My heart stills, breath catching as I rub it again just to check, as if his body will suddenly materialise out of thin air.
It wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t be.
Although a dream would be better than a reality where he woke up and left in regret. I turn over and hear a crackle. A small page from his journal lies on the pillow beside me.
This is what they do in the movies right? To let you know it wasn’t a dream?
Breakfast downstairs when you’re ready xx
I rush to shower, brush my teeth and begin to rummage through my bag.
If I knew how this weekend would go, I would have packed way cuter clothes.
And maybe that bra I have that actually makes me look like I have cleavage.
But, unfortunately, I’m stuck with the result of a last-minute, tear-filled, broken-hearted rampage through my room.
It’s nothing but sweats, baggy jumpers, and old ratty leggings, the complete antithesis of effortlessly sexy.
As I stroll down the stairs, clad in tiny sweat shorts and an oversized off-the-shoulder sweatshirt from my uni days, I can see him clanging about in the kitchen, spatula doubling as a microphone as he sings along to his playlist.
There’s a deep warmth to his smile as he catches me watching him from the door. He beckons me over, eyes following my every step towards him.
‘What you making?’ I ask, immediately inspecting his work.
A chocolate-chip pancake sizzles quietly in the pan, the bowl of mixture next to it on the counter.
‘There’s more in the oven. Here.’ He reaches under the stove, emerging with a stack ready to go. ‘I didn’t know what time you’d be up, so I had to keep them warm.’
‘You cook?’ I ask.
‘I’m a man of many talents,’ he says. ‘There were a few years where my sister refused to eat anything that wasn’t accompanied by a stack of pancakes. I’ve perfected the recipe.’
He spins around again, this time grabbing a tray and sliding a myriad of toppings my way. I immediately reach for the whipped cream and chocolate sauce, pile them high and shovel bite after bite into my mouth without chewing. They are perfect.
We polish off the pancakes within minutes, stealing quick, smiling glances at each other as we eagerly make our way through our plates. Then, as soon as we finish, he marches over to me, scooping his hand around my waist and pulling me in for a long morning kiss.
I wrap my arms round his neck, leaning into him so far that my heels leave the floor and he takes on my weight.
His hands run down my hips and round my back, grabbing hold of my bum and giving each cheek a firm squeeze before lifting me in the air.
It was hot the first time and it’s hotter the second.
I never knew I had a need to be lifted like this, but now I can never go back.
I follow his lead, instantly wrapping my legs around his waist as he effortlessly places me on the kitchen counter, making sure that our lips don’t part, not even for a moment.
His right hand moves from my back, fingers creeping slowly up my inner thigh before sliding their way under my flimsy excuse for shorts.
They toy at the band of my underwear, pausing cruelly as they await my small but desperate plea for more.
I glare at him impatiently. He chuckles lightly, the sound bouncing off the tiles and filling the kitchen with his mischievous joy.
I can see his mind whirring – he’s debating leaving it even longer – but one glance at my pouting face and he knows I’ll combust if he does.
His fingers dip beneath my waistband, lightly teasing before travelling further down as he kisses my neck.
He starts with one finger, stroking gently and listening out for my reactions before upping it to two and increasing his speed.
He has rendered me speechless. It’s so good I can barely think straight as his mouth travels further and further down my body.
‘Wait,’ I pant, sense quickly snapping me back to life.
He freezes, eyes full of concern.
‘Doesn’t Evie have cameras?’
He breathes a shaky, relieved sigh. ‘Not in here. I know the blind spots. I’ve added them all to the tour.’
He raises an eyebrow, silently asking if he can continue.
I nod and he jumps back to work, leaving a trail of kisses across my stomach and down my outer thigh before working his way up my inner.
I close my eyes and give in to the feeling of his mouth on my skin, climbing its way up to where I need it most . . . But then it stops.
My eyes open instantly as I stare down at him, the spots on my thigh starting to grow cold. He pays me no mind, pulling my shorts and pants off in one fluid motion.
‘Hey, Maddison.’ He is looking up at me with a smile that sends that fire rushing through me. ‘Tell me which letter I’m drawing.’
Then I finally feel his tongue press against me, and we make our way through less than half of the alphabet before he has me quivering helplessly on the countertop. As he re-emerges and comes up to eye-level again, I can’t help but roll my eyes at the all-too-pleased grin on his face.
‘I will get you back. I was promised a tour of all blind spots, remember?’ I threaten.
‘Of course, I remember. And you’re welcome,’ he says smugly.
Once I recover, he shows me around Evie’s illustrious grounds, takes notes, and presents me with the most beautifully annotated map I’ve ever seen in my life.
‘I drew it up back when Evie first told us this was happening,’ he says, shrugging as he hands over my copy.
‘There’s a key and some codes, and everything is to scale.
I’ve also mocked up where I think the rides and stalls should go, but I printed those onto reusable stickers so we can rearrange them how we want before finalising. ’
It is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard a person say, and I jump on him before he even has a chance to put the map down.
Eventually I suggest lunch, offering to sort it since he made us such a delicious breakfast, but he shakes his head and whisks me down to the bottom of the garden, unlocking the door to Evie’s greenhouse.
I recognise it from a lot of her spring and summer content, but that can’t even begin to compare to the site in real life.
Vines weave their way up the walls and slope across each side of the slanted glass roof.
They perfectly frame the room, meeting in the centre above the wide, marble table adorned with woven wicker décor.
Behind the table, on the back wall, sits a man-made waterfall, with large rocks built to cascade into a small pool.
Aiden shuts the door behind us, blocking out the outside and leaving us with the trickling noise of the flowing water.
It’s a refreshing change to the modern, sculpted grounds; a tranquil oasis among the hustle and bustle.
He leads me over to the table and I realise the decoration is a picnic basket, two glasses and a bottle of wine.
I squeal, dropping his hand in astonishment. ‘When did you have time to do this? I’ve been with you all day!’
‘I packed the basket this morning and brought it down while the pancake mix was resting.’
He brushes it off like it’s nothing. He doesn’t even notice I’ve frozen in shock and he cracks open the bottle, pouring the wine into two wide yet delicate glasses.
‘You look like you’re buffering,’ he says, finally looking up and laughing at the stunned expression on my face.
He pulls me to him, kissing the shock away as I melt into his hold.
‘That’s better,’ he whispers, guiding me towards the table and proudly pulling out my chair.
He unpacks the basket to reveal two hefty-looking sandwiches, chocolate bars and three packs of ready salted crisps.
‘I had to make do with what Evie had in,’ he says, divvying it up. ‘You get two packs of crisps because you always eat one straight after the other.’
‘I do not!’ I say.
‘Yes, you do.’ He slides my portion over to me. ‘It’s cute.’
How he made a sandwich – arguably one of the most boring of foods – so unbelievably delicious, I do not know. It’s rich with mustard, salamis, olives, onions and more – layered, decadent and all for me.
‘I’d like to raise a toast,’ he says, leaning across the table to top up my glass.
I lift it halfway in the air in anticipation, eyebrow cocked as I await his next words.
‘To us,’ he continues with a small smile.
‘To the Summer Splash, to this weekend, and to last night. Especially to last night – I mean – that deserves its own toast. But if I start . . . well, I’ll be here all day.
So, to us, I guess – to everything to do with us.
God . . . You make me so bad with words. ’
His eyes leave mine only to dart around frantically, dropping and lifting in time with his fragmented sentences.
His nerves overcome him, spilling out and turning his words into small little murmurs.
It’s so cute and tender, and deeply unlike him, and I can’t help but stare as I take every morsel of this new Aiden in.
‘You’ve never been bad at anything – trust me, I have waited for you to be bad at something.’ I laugh softly. ‘You’ve been great at everything since the day that we met, and every day after.’
His lips twist back into a smile, eyes returning to mine. The warmth in them sets my heart on fire.
‘You think I’m great at everything?’ he asks smugly.
‘I’m not saying it again.’
He chuckles. I smile. My heart flutters.
‘You were wrong about me before, you know. I don’t just float through life expecting things to work out. I just don’t need to track it across seven notebooks.’
He softens the last part with a good-spirited eyebrow raise and a refill of my glass.
‘Oh, really, so what are your goals, aims, objectives, then?’ I ask, eyebrow raised in jest.
I expect him to shut it down, keep it a secret, but he doesn’t. Instead, he springs to life, babbling on eagerly.