CHAPTER 18
*PAST*
“A not-so-strange stranger”
Maya
Being friends with Aaron Willow was easier than I thought. I should’ve known.
He had befriended me in less than two words, only with the help of a book and pretty blue eyes.
He didn’t bring up that I chose him in the game. Didn’t use it as a way to mock me, or embarrass me.
I guess, if I would have liked him, I would have been devastated. He seemed to have sent me to the friend zone without even blinking.
He didn’t even falter when he stopped hanging out with his friends. It was embarrassing, seeing them try to win Aaron back, but he had a backbone of steel.
Golden Boy Aaron didn’t seem to even care when he saw Lucy cry. Totally unmoved by her.
I was impressed.
He also didn’t miss any of our reunions. I was turning Aaron Willow into a bad boy, or so people said.
Truth was, I hadn’t asked him for any of that.
Our renewed friendship didn’t translate in us playing soft against each other.
I was getting out of my night shift when I heard Aaron’s voice.
“Maya.”
I looked around and found only a man on a motorcycle.
Did I mistake Aaron’s voice?
Was I now starting to fantasize about Aaron calling my name?
There was no way. Tiredness was just getting to me.
The man raised his visor, and a very known pair of blue eyes were uncovered.
I really need to rest more. Aaron Willow wouldn’t drive a motorcycle.
The man—or was he a figment of my imagination?— took off his helmet.
Aaron smiled.
“Are you freaking out, Amery? You seem to be freaking out.”
He laughed.
I looked around.
Was this a joke? Now that we were friends, was this the type of joke he would make?
He moved his head to the side. Such an Aaron movement.
I looked closer.
His messy hair, his red cheeks, his sparkling blue eyes.
A black helmet in his hands.
His long, strong legs mounting a fancy, sleek motorcycle.
Is my imagination that good?
He came closer to me, parking the bike.
“You are freaking out,”
he said softly. “When you said you liked motorcycles, I didn’t expect you to like them this much.”
He was real.
“What? I didn’t say that I liked them,”
I replied.
He looked at me, almost waiting for the punchline.
“But you said—”
he started.
“I don’t remember saying I like them.”
“But you do, right?”
he asked impatiently. I raised and lowered my shoulders. “You said motorcycles were hot, that everyone loved guys with—”
“That’s the typical, isn’t it?”
I asked. “I thought it was something that people knew.”
“Because you do like them?”
“No.”
He panicked. “I mean, haven’t you heard about girls liking bad boys with motorcycles? Your brother is Niko Willow; you must have—”
“But I saw your face. You loved it,”
he said confidently. His voice lowered, unsure. “Right?”
I decided to put him out of his misery and nodded along. “Great,”
he said, not so sure. “I came to pick you up.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “What if I came with my bike?”
“You didn’t. You came by bus today.”
“How do you—”
I started.
“I’m your friend, remember?”
After a little fighting and Aaron getting a dark red helmet from his seat, I decided to let him drive me home.
“Did you have dinner?”
he asked and I shook my head. “Amery! You can’t do that. You’re going to get sick.”
My eyes widened and he frowned. Amery was used as an endearment.
“I know a place,” he said.
I trusted him and got on the bike, swinging my leg over the seat, my arms grabbing his waist.
We had never been this close.
He drove like he did everything: smoothly. A little nervous, though, something that I wasn’t used to seeing in Aaron.
We stopped in the burger joint from town that was about to close, but Aaron convinced them. I’m sure the large tip was helping his case.
After grabbing his food, we continued riding a couple of minutes more.
Aaron stopped in the park of the main plaza, the place where we met eight years ago.
The place looked different with only the streetlight illuminating the place. We sat on the bench that Aaron’s mom was seated at when we met, and started to eat in silence.
Our view of the old willow tree was perfect. I remembered it bigger, more imposing.
“So, you ride a motorcycle now, huh?”
I asked between bites. He nodded.
“Niko gifted it to me on my birthday.”
“That makes more sense,”
I said out loud.
“What?”
“That he was the one behind this idea.”
“It was my idea.”
I nearly choked on my food.
I looked at him, trying to find a lie between his words.
“Why?”
I inquired. His cheeks reddened.
“Why not? You don’t think it fits me?”
He was too on the defensive. Why would—No way.
“You bought it trying to get girls?”
“No,”
he said too fast. “No,”
he repeated again. He muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat, drinking from his soda.
He raised his eyebrows, surprised, guilty.
“You drank from my soda?”
I asked, raising my voice. His cheeks reddened even more.
“Sorry, I thought it was mine. You can throw the straw and drink from the cup.”
“Whatever,”
I said nonchalantly, grabbing my drink while putting my lips just when Aaron put his.