InterviewInterrogation?
Chapter thirty-two
Hayes Rosewood
Aurora stares at me from across the table, her blue eyes shimmering with mirth. We’re surrounded by her friends and family—having dinner after her recital—but the way she’s looking at me makes me feel like we’re the only two people in her parents’ house.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“How absolutely ridiculous you look in that shirt.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you wore it.”
I grin and pull on the fabric. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t support his girlfriend?”
Aurora rolls her eyes.
“You can support me without wearing a shirt with my face on it.”
“So you don’t want me to wear it to class next week?”
Her eyes narrow. “It would be the last thing you do.”
A laugh bursts out of me.
“At least I’d go out with flair.”
Aurora’s mom stops by our end of the long folding table they replaced their smaller dining table with.
It’s covered by a pink plastic tablecloth with ballet slippers printed all over it.
Our plates are pink, too, as are the cups and napkins.
It makes me happy every time I take a bite of pizza or a sip of sweet tea, knowing that Aurora has people in her life who pay attention.
She may hate parties, but I know she’s enjoying herself tonight.
“What are you two talking about?” she asks as she refills our sweet teas from a plastic pitcher.
My mom would be six feet under before she served anyone like this, much less used plastic dishware at a party. But the food tonight tastes better than any meal my family has catered, and I’ve never felt more at home than when Andrea smiles down at us.
“Aurora was just telling me how she wants to get a shirt with my face on it so that we can have coordinating ones to wear to class,” I answer with a wide smile.
Aurora balls up a napkin and throws it at me, while Andrea laughs. The crumpled paper hits my cheek, then falls onto the pizza crust left on my plate.
“You’re better with napkins than you are gloves,” I tease Aurora, and Andrea’s eyebrows rise.
“Gloves?” Andrea questions.
“I took Aurora to Haymakers the other day and tried to teach her some things.”
“Emphasis on try,” Aurora says dryly. “He found out why Eric is the boxing prodigy of the family.”
Andrea laughs. “Our Rory pretends to be a fighter, but deep down she’s a lover at heart.”
She bends down and hugs Aurora with one arm, pressing a kiss to the bun on her head. Aurora crinkles her nose.
“You should take your hair down, sweetie, before you end up with a headache,” Andrea says with a frown as she notices Aurora’s hair is still up.
Though she changed into sweats, her hair and makeup are still intact, except for her berry lipstick, which faded while we were eating.
“Yeah, I probably should.” Aurora sighs as she pushes up from the table. “See you in a decade,” she grumbles, and I chuckle.
“Does it really take that long?”
Andrea’s eyes widen and she nods.
“The amount of hair pins it takes to keep hair in place during a performance is insane,” Jasmine chimes in from down the table. “She’ll be gone for a little while.”
Aurora rounds the corner toward her bedroom.
Saylor smiles, and it looks a touch maniacal. “Which gives us ample time to interview you.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I glance to Andrea for help, but she’s already gone, heading to the living room to check on the few guests in there. She probably would have encouraged it, anyway.
“Uh, okay, I guess?” I scratch the back of my neck. “What do you want to know?”
“What are your intentions with our bestie?” Saylor asks with the same tone usually reserved for a dad asking about his daughter.
“To take care of her,” I answer without thinking.
The only people left at the table are Aurora’s roommates and Jameson.
Aurora’s dad and brother are in the living room watching a football game, along with a few other extended family members.
So technically, everyone around me knows we’re fake dating, making my reply a bit much for this interview.
But it’s the truth. I want to take care of Aurora.
“Are you in love with her?” Saylor whispers with wide eyes and a sparkling smile.
“Um—that’s a little personal,” I answer, feeling more off-kilter than I usually do when talking to people. I want Aurora’s friends to like me, because I can tell how much she values their opinions, same as her family. But I also don’t want to say too much too soon.
“Have you kissed yet?” Saylor blurts her next question, unfazed by my nonanswer.
Jasmine hits her arm. “Say, chill. If they kissed, we’d know.”
Marigold leans forward, staring me down as she asks, “Are you going to leave her after you get what you want like you’ve done with all the other girls you’ve dated?”
“Goldie,” Jameson says in a gruff tone.
Her friends give her looks of censure, too.
Marigold sighs. “Okay, okay, that was too far. I’m sorry. It’s just, Aurora is always looking out for others. She deserves someone to be protective over her.”
The sincerity in her voice tells me she’s genuine. If I had to guess, Aurora has been there for all her friends when they needed her, even if it wasn’t in a way that most people—including Aurora—would recognize. I’m glad they do.
“I agree,” I say quietly. “And I get that my reputation is less than stellar, but I hope that I’ve shown things with Aurora are different.”
“You have,” Jasmine confirms before Marigold can reply. “But we know the circumstances of your relationship are a bit unique.” She keeps her voice low so that no one else hears.
I hesitate to reply. How can I reassure her friends without confessing something Aurora deserves to be the first to know?
“Why are all of you so quiet?” Aurora’s voice makes me jump. “What are you plotting?”
I look up and my lips part in quiet shock. Aurora walks toward the table, a curtain of smooth brown hair that reaches nearly to her waist swaying with every step. It’s the first time I’ve seen her with her hair down, and it’s better than every dream I’ve had about this exact moment.
She tucks a strand behind one ear, her cheekbones tinting pink with a blush.
It’s then that I notice she removed her makeup, too.
Everything about her is softened. I want to run my fingers through her hair, over her skin.
And more than anything, I want to kiss her.
It’s a kind of all-consuming need that makes me forget about her friends’ questions, forget about their existence entirely.
“What?” she mumbles as she takes her seat.
I’m at a loss for words. I shake my head a little, trying to restore power to my brain.
“You look …” I trail off. She fidgets with her necklace and avoids my gaze. “Radiant.”
The word isn’t enough, but it’s all I can think of. Aurora’s blush deepens a shade, and I vaguely register her friends giggling beside us.
I have to tell her how I feel, soon. And hope that she feels the same. Because every second without her being mine is an acute kind of torture that I don’t want to endure any longer.