Chapter 10
It is pouring.
Hard.
The day after the premiere, Aidan and I go on another pseudo date, which consists of walking around Midtown, ice cream cones in hand and talking about the new movie he’s working on and how physically demanding the role is. It is amazing how attuned I feel to the cameras clicking and phones held up facing our general direction. But even with all of the distraction, I feel more attuned to Aidan. Talking with him has always been easy, but everything has always been about business. Now, it’s like we’re gathering pieces of each other and putting together the full puzzle that makes up our lives.
As we cross the street to enter Central Park, we both feel droplets fall from the eerie gray sky that has gradually become darker since this morning.
“We should be fine,” Aidan assures me. “We are really close to my apartment in case the sky opens.”
And boy does it. Aidan breaks out into a full-on sprint and drags me along with him. We finally make it to his apartment building. We jet past Aidan’s sweet doorman, who greets Aidan with a welcoming smile and tips his hat toward me. I give a small wave and smile back, then step into the elevator after Aidan. As Aidan presses the button to his floor, which is outrageously high, I can’t help but wonder how many women have followed Aidan up this elevator and greeted his doorman in a similar fashion.
Chills run up and down my body as a result of the rain, but also because I am about to enter Aidan Stone’s apartment. This is entering very personal territory. This was never part of the plan. This is why I opted to stay in my own hotel. To avoid situations like this.
I am soaking wet from the deluge outside. Great. The only available piece of clothing I always carry in my belt bag for emergencies is a pair of underwear. And not the sexy kind either. Like boy-shorts underwear. At least they look like shorts. It could be worse. It could be a thong.
We finally reach Aidan’s floor. As we walk down the hallway toward his apartment, I say, “Seriously, Aidan. I can go back to my hotel. I think that might be better. I don’t have any extra clothes here and I am drenched.”
He chuckles. “I do have a washing machine, you know. And towels. Plus, I have something for you to borrow in the meantime. I don’t want you to go out in this storm. I already told Raul to go home for the night, so you don’t have anyone to drive you. Your hotel is close, but it’s not that close to walk out in this storm.”
Aidan finally unlocks his door, turns the knob and pushes the door open. The security system starts to beep and he puts in his code discreetly. I lower my eyes so as not to see the numbers, rubbing the sides of my arms to generate some sort of heat.
“Oh wait,” Aidan says. “Why am I hiding this from you? You need to know this information just in case I’m not with you.”
“There’s no need, Aidan,” I say, trying to contain the water that is dripping from my hair into my just as soaked, if not more, shirt. “I don’t think I’ll ever come here without you.”
“You never know. Anyway, it will be easy to remember.”
“Well it’s not smart to have something easily remembered as your code. My dad, who worked in IT for years I might add, would be so disappointed in you.”
“Haha smartass. I meant that it will be easy for you to remember. Ready?”
“Fine. Tell me.” I pull out my phone and open the Notes app. A common practice at this point in our relationship.
Aidan suddenly looks away from me to the ground, as if he is afraid to look me in the eye. He clears his throat. “It’s 012991.”
My breath catches as I process what I just heard. I examine his pink face, and then he looks back at me and now it’s my turn to avert my eyes. I click the side of my phone and clear my throat. “Yeah, you’re right. That will be easy for me to remember.” Thank God Aidan hasn’t turned on his lights yet, because no doubt my cheeks are bright red. Why would he have that day as his code?
Aidan smirks a little, gestures for me to step into his apartment and finally turns on the light.
My jaw drops. Massive windows in his living room reveal the stunning city lights. It feels like I am in a fishbowl, even though I know no one can see me. The rain is still pounding down on the street below. Soon thunder rolls in. Lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating the harsh outer lines of the buildings. I look to my right and see a beautiful chef’s kitchen. Black stainless steel appliances, a very expensive coffee machine, double oven, the works. He has huge couches, probably to accommodate his massive build. Clean, sleek, classic. Just like Aidan.
“Here you go. I know this may be a little big on you but it’s something for you to wear while your clothes are in the wash. And here’s a towel.”
In the time I was admiring Aidan’s apartment, he’s already changed out of his own drenched clothes and dried off. I’ve never seen his hair look this unruly. Boyish. Innocent. Unguarded. It’s kind of cute. Wait, what am I thinking? My cheeks get warm again, and it isn’t because we are in his warm apartment. He holds out a gray shirt to me and I unfold it. A UConn basketball t-shirt. I smile because I know how much of a UConn basketball fan he still is. I take the towel from his other hand and scrunch it into my hair. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Um, if you want to go change, my room is down that small hallway and to the left. There is an ensuite in there, if you want extra privacy.”
“Thanks.” I make my way down the hall and find his room. His bedroom is just as big as his living room. A massive California king bed, perfectly made. I switch on the light to his bathroom and close the door behind me. Glancing in the mirror, I am instantly mortified. My hair is covering most of my face. It’s like I am looking at an image of that scary girl from The Ring. Not cute. Why do I even care if I look cute? My clothes are clinging to my body for dear life. I inch my jeans off my legs and peel my shirt off my torso. I’m just gonna have to wear my soaking bra. I am not going braless in Aidan Stone’s apartment. No way.
I dry off the rest of my body and try my best to dry the heck out of my bra so it won’t soak through the borrowed t-shirt. I replace my wet underwear with the dry boyshort ones from my purse. They look like spandex. Not too bad, considering I wore spandex playing volleyball in high school and that was deemed appropriate. I pull Aidan’s UConn shirt over my head and it falls mid-thigh. I look naked under this oversized shirt. Yep, this is exactly how I want my boss to see me. Almost naked. Wonderful.
I pull out my phone and text Aidan.
Hey do you have any shorts I could borrow?
Almost immediately, I hear the door to the bedroom open. Drawers open from his dresser and he is fumbling around. There is a small knock on the door. “Hales, I’m leaving some basketball shorts out here if you want them.”
“Okay, thank you.” I wait to hear the bedroom door close before I open the bathroom door. I pull his shorts on. But once I let go, they immediately fall to the floor. Perfect. This isn’t going to work. Boyshorts it is.
I pick up my dripping clothes and tiptoe back down the hall toward the living room. I can smell coffee brewing. On the kitchen island, a candle flickers. It smells like fall–my favorite time of year. The rain is still coming down hard outside. I watch Aidan reach for a couple of mugs out of the cabinet. As he sets them down, he turns his head and his eyes wander down the length of my body. I involuntarily pull the shirt down further. I feel so exposed.
Aidan clears his throat. “Um, I made some coffee. Help yourself to some creamer in the fridge. I know how much you love a little coffee with your creamer,” he adds, smirking, exposing his prominent dimples. He reaches for my wet clothes I’m still holding . “I’ll go put these in the wash for you.”
“Thanks.” I hand him my clothes and when he disappears down the hall, I throw up my hair into a messy bun to try and tame whatever frizz is going to develop in the next few hours. I open his fridge and notice my favorite creamer in there: oat milk creamer, specifically the oatmeal cookie flavor.
When Aidan walks back into the kitchen, I hold up the carton of creamer. “Oatmeal cookie is your favorite flavor, is it?”
Shrugging, he says, “So what if it is? Are you judging?”
I snort. “Not at all. I also happen to love the oatmeal cookie flavored creamer.”
“Well you know what they say, great minds.”
I filled my mug a little over halfway with creamer and add a little bit of coffee to top it off. I hand over the creamer to Aidan so he can pour whatever stingy amount he wants to put in his own mug. Sure enough, he pours in just a splash and fills the rest with coffee. I shake my head as I take a sip of mine. Oh my god this is the best coffee I’ve ever had. “Tell me: why is it that I am the one fetching you coffee every day when you are perfectly capable of making coffee all on your own?”
“Well, you are my assistant. Isn’t that kind of the whole point of your job?”
I walk past him and bump into him slightly. “Who’s the smartass now?” I say as I plop onto his couch. Good lord this is the most comfortable couch. I guess being a world famous movie star has its perks.
“I’m kidding. I honestly just don’t have the time in the morning.” Aidan sits next to me. Uncomfortably so. “You know how L.A. traffic is, and I like to get in a workout in the mornings if I can. I just don’t have the luxury to sit and make coffee and a good breakfast. I’m almost always on the go. Especially with early call times.”
“Oh I know all about those.”
A flash of lightning illuminates Aidan’s apartment. Thunder claps, and suddenly the lights go completely out. The only thing that is preventing it from being completely dark is the flicker of the candle on the island. The city was black.
“Shit. Hold on.” Aidan places his mug on his coffee table and darts off the couch. As I pull one of his blankets over my legs, I watch his silhouette move across the room. Every curvature of his body is emphasized in this light. There is no hiding anything. There are glimpses of his statuesque figure. All the hard outlines of his muscles. I want to give all the kudos to his personal trainer. Did I mention he has a lot of muscles? I guess he has to be that built to portray a superhero with superhuman strength on the big screen. I am thanking my lucky stars that he can’t feel how hot my ears are getting. I’m sure my cheeks match the color of cherry chapstick. He reaches towards the middle of the island and grabs the only lighting we have in this entire apartment.