Chapter 20
Aoi
I overslept and completely forgot to text Aiden.
We were supposed to meet this morning for coffee, but I was so exhausted after tossing and turning all night that I completely forgot about our appointment.
I got dressed in a hurry and rushed out of my hotel after I called him to apologize and ask if we could reschedule. Surprisingly, he didn’t sound offended in the least and offered to meet later this afternoon.
So, here I am, running to my car and coiffing my hair in the mirror, trying to make myself look less out of the gutter than I do. I drive all the way to Central Park where Aiden is waiting in a small coffee shop, and oddly enough, I’m not nervous.
Hopefully, he’s not getting trampled by hordes of fans.
I don’t stroll around the city often, meaning I have to take out my phone and use my GPS to find my way like a freaking tourist. After walking for at least ten minutes, I finally arrive in front of the purple washed-out awning of the coffee shop.
Considering it’s a Saturday, I’m surprised at how empty the place is. As I step inside, I catch a glimpse of Aiden sitting on a dark wooden chair and we make eye contact.
He gets up and greets me warmly, pulling me into a hug. I’m taken aback at first, and since the waitress is staring at us, I slowly detach myself from him. We take our seats, and he orders us some pastries and two latte macchiatos with oat milk in mine.
Aiden focuses his attention wholly on me. “Glad you could make it.”
“Thank you for rescheduling. I didn’t think I’d sleep through my alarm,” I say, apologetically.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I freed up the entire day to be with you.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
“It was,” he says, reaching for my hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb. “I rented out the place for the next two hours so we wouldn’t be interrupted by fans and paparazzi.”
That explains the lack of customers.
“I agreed to this simply to show you my gratitude for your help. Nothing else,” I say, slipping my hand out of his.
“You’re so cold, Aoi. I was just trying to become your friend.”
Friend, my ass.
It’s clear he has dirty thoughts dancing around his mind. Whatever he thinks could happened between us is going to stay in his dreams because I’m done buzzing around men like bees on flowers.
I’m a grown man for fuck’s sake. I can’t keep fucking around with whichever man I find attractive.
“Friendship, hmm?” I muse, pointing a finger at him. “That’s quite the innocent concept for someone like you.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” he shoots back, and I can feel his gaze piercing a hole through my face. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
I offer the waitress, interrupting our conversation, a simple thanks and take a sip of my scorching hot latte. “You really want to know?”
He nods.
“You’re the kind of man who acts all confident and self-assured but deep down you crave intimacy.
The issue is, if you want intimacy, you need to show vulnerability and open up to someone.
Except all you do, is joke around and act like a cocky bastard.
You want what you can’t get, that’s why you keep bugging me.
Because you know damn well I’m emotionally unavailable.
” I pick a vegan cookie among the pastries.
“You like a good chase, knowing that nothing will come out of it in the end. Easy and fun. But you want more, and you’re scared of what that would mean for the image you crafted to protect your heart. ”
He stares at me, his smile withered. For a second, a glimmer of hurt flashes through his silver irises and guilt swarms over me.
I lower my head at the cookie and chew silently. “You asked for it. Don’t get mad at me now.”
“I’m not mad, I’m just…surprised. I didn’t expect that.” He tilts his head, resting it on his palm. “Maybe you’re right. But is it so wrong of me? Don’t you feel the same?”
I look up at him, noticing the vulnerability in his gaze, despite his flirtatious smirk. “I don’t think it’s wrong at all. Intimacy is beautiful in all its forms and it’s human to desire it. I simply avoid it like the pest.”
“Because you fear it?”
“I don’t fear anything.”
“Then why are you hiding?”
I scoff as if the answer is obvious. “Intimacy requires trust. Trust leads to betrayal and pain. I don’t see the point in getting hurt over the microscopic chance of meeting someone good that won’t leave one way or another.”
He stays silent, eyeing me, awaiting more.
The truth.
He won’t get it. I’ll never admit it.
“I’m not hiding. I’m protecting myself. There’s a difference.”
He straightens in his seat and points at my chest. “By confining your heart in a coffin trapped behind a huge wall of ice.”
“If I’m hiding, what are you doing?” I retort, annoyed by his self-assured demeanor.
He frowns, seeming confused by my question.
“I read that you were supposed to star in the movie adaptation of Lost in your head. I know you’ve loved that book since it came out five years ago.
I saw the interview in which you said it.
Then why are you wasting time in New York? ”
“It’s complicated.” He sighs, running a hand through his silver hair. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“See? You’re hiding.” I lean back in my chair. “You’re scared of something awaiting you in London. What it is, I can only speculate. Be it a fear of disappointing others by failing or the incredible pressure on your shoulders. You’re scared and hiding in a city bigger than yourself.”
He stiffens, his tone dropping down an octave.
“What would you know about the importance of acting in a movie that might get nominated for an Oscar? It’s terrifying to know that every big shot will judge your performance if you fuck up.
Imagine failing a role in the movie adaptation of your favorite novel. You don’t get it.”
Behind that act of confident, big movie star, hides a man frightened of not achieving his dreams.
The higher you climb, the harsher the fall.
I won’t tell him that he’s sitting right across from the author of his favorite novel, though. It could potentially help him feel more at ease if he knew that the literal creator of his favorite novel believes in his talent.
But he needs to find the strength on his own.
“You’re right. Maybe I don’t get it, but you’re an amazing actor, Aiden.” I eye his body language, wondering if I took it too far earlier. “You know it, and I know it. Your fans know it. Your entire crew knows it, and that’s why everyone believes in you.”
“You sure know how to give a pep talk, hmm?” He chuckles, offering me a genuine smile. “Thank you and sorry. I was being rude for insinuating that your job didn’t hold as much value.”
I watch him take a sip out of his mug, a sheepish smile lingering on his lips. “Don’t worry about it. I should’ve been offended, but honestly, I’m not. You speak from a place of ignorance, but that’s not entirely your fault. You’ll change your mind soon enough.”
I’m not confident in myself, but I know damn right that as an author, I’m incredible. My books are perfectly crafted, each word, each phrase, and character were chosen with precision and purpose. No one can make me doubt my literary aptitude.
“Since you were at Frank’s party, I can assume you work in the publishing industry.”
I nod. “I’m an author.”
“How come I’ve never heard about you or your books?” he asks, his gaze drifting from my hand on the table, to my lips. “You’re awfully confident about this. Can’t fault me for being curious now, can you?”
“I write under a pen name”, I say, ignoring his subtle flirting. “Didn’t really feel like using my real name. It seemed too personal.”
“Fair enough.” He watches me attentively before leaning back in his chair. “I’m actually really curious, but I know you won’t tell me more even if I begged you to.”
“You’re right about that.”
“You’re kind of a jerk, you know?”
I snort and slap a hand over my mouth, embarrassed by the sound that just left me. “You’re one to talk.”
“I’m not a jerk, though,” he counters, taking a sip of his latte. “Andrew definitely is.”
Cocking a brow at him, I tap my fingers on the table. “Why do you dislike him? He seemed pretty sweet to me.”
“Sweet?” he scoffs loudly and smacks the table. “He’s a spoiled brat with a shitty attitude. His brother keeps trying to steer him toward the right path, but the brat can’t help doing whatever the hell he wants instead.”
He’s not entirely wrong, but I think he’s just stubborn and won’t back down until he gets what he wants.
Is that the attitude of a spoiled brat?
Yes, it is, but in his case it’s endearing.
“Don’t bad mouth him,” I say, feeling oddly protective of him. “He’s young and stubborn. Many would argue those are positive traits in a man.”
“Don’t tell me you like him.” His expression drops and leaves room to annoyance and disbelief. “You shouldn’t trust him, Aoi. Sure, he looks all cute and innocent, but I can assure you he’s anything but that.”
I shrug. “I never claimed to like him but that doesn’t mean I want to hear you badmouthing him.”
“You’re about to fall down a rabbit hole if you’re not careful. He’s a bad weed.”
“Alice experienced many interesting and life-changing adventures when she fell into the rabbit hole,” I joke, laughing when he shakes his head.
“You’re not Alice.”
“And he’s not a bad weed.”
As much as I want to deny it, I’m actually enjoying my time with Aiden. Chatting with him is fun, but I can’t help thinking about the previous evening and how eager Andrew had been to sink his fangs into my neck.
I wonder just how far he’s willing to go if I let him.
Not that I will. I have no intention of getting involved with him beyond finding out if he’s the one nightstand.
I check the time on my wrist and bite the inside of my cheek. “Unfortunately, I have an appointment later tonight. Hope you don’t mind cutting this hang out short.”
“You’re abandoning me for someone else?” he asks, feigning indignation. “It better not be him.”
My thoughts wander to memories of Andrew and the bulge drawn through the seam of his pants. “Whomever I’m seeing is none of your business, Aiden.”
His eyes narrow on my face, inspecting it for answers. “You struck me as a careful and serious person. Sure, you’re a cock tease but I didn’t think you’d be that reckless.”
“You assumed a whole lot on your own. Can’t blame me for ruining your illusions.” I gulp down my coffee in one go and stuff myself with more pastries before standing up. “It’s on me.”
“I can’t let you pay,” he counters, stopping me from reaching into my pocket. “What sort of man doesn’t pay for his date?”
“Not a date.” I roll my eyes. “I insist. You did me a favor and I even made you reschedule. This is the least I can do. You can pay next time.”
“Next time?” he asks, as though he didn’t expect there to be one. “I knew you were just playing hard to get.”
“Shut up, you idiot.” I grab my phone, unlocking it to pay. “I admit talking to you was fun, so yeah, next time.”
He smirks, running a hand over his face and waddles over to me. “Can I kiss you? You look so damn cute right now.”
“Are you nuts? Absolutely not.”
A huff of disappointment leaves his lips, but his smug expression betrays him. “Shame. Maybe next time.”
I sigh, massaging my temple, and walking up to the counter. Before we can leave, the lady at the front stops Aiden in his tracks. “Excuse me Mr. Morgan, could I take a picture with you?”
He shoots me a glance that says, ‘see what I have to deal with?’ and I hold in a chuckle as he accepts her request. He smiles for the picture, and I notice how beautiful his smile is. Yet, I catch myself finding a certain honey eyed man’s smile superior.
On the way to our respective cars he speaks up, “Do you have to go tonight? Can’t you stay longer? I promise I’ll make it worthwhile.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t cancel last minute. That’d be extremely rude, and in all honesty, I’m looking forward to this date.”
He frowns and takes my hand. “Who is he? Are you seriously meeting Andrew tonight?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why?” he asks, more confused than upset. “Why him? You could have anyone in the world–me in other words–but you’re choosing him? I don’t understand.”
“What’s there not to understand?” I laugh at his sulky expression. “He’s handsome and he asked me out. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“It’s that easy?”
“I’m not very picky.”
On these words I disappear in my burgundy Audi and drive off. I’m not sure when Andrew will show up, so I don’t start getting ready until six when I notice–after getting lost in my writing–that it’s getting late.
I stare at the closet, digging through my brain for outfit ideas. He said dinner, not a freaking gala. I can’t go wrong with a pair of black tailored trousers and a light blue button-up shirt.
My phone rings in the distance. I jump over the bed to grab it, and pick up, almost flying off the mattress.
My heart misses a beat when I hear his voice.
“I’m downstairs.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
I pack my room key and my phone, then head out. A blossom of nervousness prickles in my gut but I push it down. When I step out of the lobby, a fresh breeze hits me in the face. Relishing the feeling of the cold against my skin, I shut my eyes.
A soft and low voice brushes against my ear. “Ready to go?”
I nod, and although a hint of hesitation pesters my mind, I accept the hand he extends. Together we make our way to his car as black as the night and as beautiful as sin.
Beautiful like him, the voice in the back of my mind muses.
Shut up.
“I hope I didn’t arrive too early.”
I chuckle and strap on my seat belt. “Of course not. You’re right on time.”
He gazes at me for a moment, taking in my appearance, and smiles before driving off. I glance at him during the ride whenever I sense his attention on me, then I look away, pretending to be oblivious.