47. Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Aiden
C lick. Click. Click.
I flicked my wrist, moving across the selection of shows that the streaming service recommended. With a grunt of frustration, I sank further into my sofa. I couldn’t even blame Louise for fucking with the algorithm and messing up my recommendations—I’d made her set up her own profile after her last visit. It’d taken weeks to get the stupid site to stop recommending the latest kdramas. Click. There wasn’t a kdrama in sight—there wasn’t anything I wanted to watch. Closing my eyes, I scrolled across the home screen and hit select, opening my eyes only when the telltale tudum echoed through the surround sound. Red lettering flashed across the screen and I dropped my head back, lowering the remote at last, as I tried to focus on what looked like some kind of culinary showdown.
I made it three minutes before I gave up and was back on the homepage, trawling for something else. It’d been like this with every show I’d selected this evening, and I didn’t know why. I just felt… restless, and my mind couldn’t settle on anything for long enough to actually give it a proper chance.
Pushing myself to stand, my feet were moving before I had the chance to remember why I’d been so set on avoiding the kitchen all night. My fingers hovered on the light switch as my eyes took in the absolute carnage that lay before me. I tried to ignore the flour covered countertops and used bowls and baking trays as I poured myself a mug of water. Turning my back on the chaos, I pulled my phone from my pocket for what felt like the hundredth time tonight and, just like all the times I’d checked, frowned at the lack of notifications.
Not that it was a surprise. Charlotte had told me earlier this week that her friend, Becky, was coming to stay for the weekend and, while the idea of not seeing her for a few days hadn’t felt like a big deal at the time, it had only taken until seven o’clock for me to realise just how stupidly mistaken I’d been. Of course, it didn’t help that my sister was up there. She’d spent all afternoon destroying my kitchen and then had the nerve to breeze past me without even offering me one of the cookies she’d made.
Back on the sofa, my leg bounced as I stared at the text thread I shared with Charlotte. It wouldn’t be weird to text her… right? We’d texted before. I rubbed the back of my neck as I scrolled through our chat history. Okay, maybe calling it texting was a bit of a stretch. We typically only texted to coordinate when and where we were going to meet. My screen darkened, and I looked up at the television, my face twisting into a scowl. I should’ve gone out tonight—not that I had anyone to go out with. But fuck, I was bored.
Sinking back into the sofa, I tilted my head up to the ceiling, my mind drifting to thoughts of Charlotte. Was she having a good time? The thought had no sooner entered my mind than I felt an almost desperate kind of urgency to find out. I huffed out a silent laugh at my ridiculousness. I knew what had caused it—this concern. Charlotte had seemed off when I’d called her earlier in the week and when she’d arrived at my door, eyes red- rimmed from what could only be tears, it had taken every ounce of self-control I had not to ask her what had happened. I hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered, and it had left me feeling more sullen and uneasy than I had a right to be.
So, yes. I knew the cause of my concern, but not why I felt it. My eyes narrowed at the ceiling as I rubbed absentmindedly at the dull ache in my chest. I wondered what they were getting up to. Surely it couldn’t hurt to ask? But my fingers froze on their way to my phone. Nope. Not going to do that. It was better to keep things purely…professional wasn’t the right word, but impersonal maybe? I didn’t need to know about what she and her friends got up to or what they talked about. It was better to keep some kind of distance between us, to keep the boundaries firmly in place. We had the contract for a reason. I nodded sharply and returned my attention to the soft glow of the screen.
I could always just go to bed?
I reached over and tapped my phone screen—eleven-twenty. Sad.
‘Fuck.’ My voice broke through the stillness of the apartment. It was a Friday night, and I’d basically spent all night waiting for an appropriate time to go to bed. This was fucking ridiculous.
Without thinking, I snatched up my phone and sent off the text—reason be damned.
Me:
Hey
It was boredom. Plain and simple. That was what I told myself as I stared at the screen, watching for a reply. It meant nothing. And the little thrill that sparked along my spine when the three text dots appeared as she wrote her reply? That was a relief… because I was bored.
Cupcake:
Hey yourself :)
I replied instantly.
Me:
How’s girls’ night?
Cupcake:
It’s been really great.
I didn’t know Louise baked.
Me:
She loves it. Been baking since high school.
She’s a menace in the kitchen, though.
I grimaced at the screen, and the second message that I’d sent straight after the first. I needed to rein it in. Keep the lines clear.
Cupcake:
Oh no!
Well, based on taste alone, I’d say the kitchen was sacrificed for a noble cause.
I snorted a laugh—not that I didn’t believe her. Louise’s creations were always incredible. But there was something about the way Charlotte spoke; about her levity and turn of phrase that I found oddly endearing. My subconscious flared, a red warning signalling the dangers of those kinds of thoughts, but I’d already responded.
Me:
I’ll have to take your word for it.
Cupcake:
Louise didn’t leave you any?
Me:
Not one
Cupcake:
I’ll send some back with her for you.
I bit my lip, the whispers of an idea forming.
Me:
It’s a pity…
Cupcake:
What is?
My knee bounced, the only outlet I had for the eager anticipation that fizzled beneath the surface of my skin.
Me:
That I have to wait for tomorrow. They’re better when they’re fresh.
I hit send, my breath held hostage in my chest as I waited for her reply. I watched as the three little text dots appeared and disappeared, the corners of my mouth up-ticking into a smile as the pattern repeated and Charlotte tried to figure out how to respond. She’d have got there eventually, but I’d never been a patient man. And so, with my heart in my throat, I put myself on the line.
Me:
So, what do you say, Cupcake? Will you come over?