13. Aiden
Aiden
“Does it ever bother you?” I ask the question that I’ve almost asked a million times, but have always chickened out.
“Does what bother me?” Bailey asks, her voice sleepy. This isn’t the time to be trying to have a serious conversation, but I can’t hold it in anymore.
I know I’ve been avoiding her. My pride is wounded from the way she ran from me when we almost kissed the other day.
It feels like I have the answer to the question that has lived rent free in my head for as long as I can remember.
Bailey has always said we are best friends, and I think I should have taken each and every one of those times as her way of putting me in the friend zone.
I held out hope for way too long, maybe it’s time I try and move on.
Quit saving myself for a dream that is never going to come true.
“When people assume we are together? That I’m Little Bear’s dad?” I say.
“Why would that bother me?” She says, “If we are being honest, sometimes I wish—” Before she can finish her sentence, she promptly throws up into the puke bag they had given her. I guess I’ll never know what the end of that statement was. Fuck.
It’s been a few days since the trip to the hospital.
The first med the doctor tried didn’t work for her, neither did the second, but a few hours after the first doctor tried this other medication that actually worked, Blue was able to keep juice and crackers down.
She had never been so happy to drink apple juice or eat a cracker in her life.
After waiting an hour to make sure she kept something down I was finally able to take her home with the oral version of the medication.
I walk into the apartment and Blue is standing with her back to me, she has her headphones in her ear and she’s dancing to whatever music she’s listening to.
If I had to take a guess, she’s listening to BTS’ 'Love Yourself: Answer’ album.
It looks like she’s preparing dinner. She must have gotten a burst of energy.
The nausea meds they have her on sometimes make her a bit sleepy, so she’s been napping more recently. I’m glad she’s up.
I stand in the entrance into the apartment, she hasn’t noticed me yet, so I just watch her.
She’s looking like my own personal wet dream with one of my high school football tees on and a pair of short pajama shorts.
The t-shirt has my last name, and the number eighteen, the same number I’d used from the moment I started playing football in kindergarten.
Blue’s birthday is January 8, so of course I had to use her birthday as my jersey number.
The sight of my last name has my cock thickening in my pants, and I adjust myself to try and hide the evidence of what she’s doing to me.
I know I said I was going to get over her, but it’s not going to happen overnight.
I can’t just turn off the feelings I’ve been hanging onto for seventeen years in a matter of days. It’s going to be a process.
When she turns around to grab the box of noodles she had placed on the island behind her and sees me, she startles, but recovers quickly, giving me the biggest smile. She is so fucking beautiful.
“Hello Blue, how are you feeling?” I ask her as she takes her headphones out.
“I actually feel pretty good. I’m making your favorite tonight” She says as she turns back around to the stove to put the noodles in the pot of what I believe is boiling water.
“That’s amazing, Dr. Richards did say the nausea might come and go, and might just disappear one day.
I’m going to cross my fingers that you’ll start to feel better permanently.
” I walk into the kitchen and stick my finger in the alfredo sauce I know she made from scratch.
I groan as the rich cream sauce hits my tongue.
“Oh my god, I swear this gets better every time you make it.”
“You say that every time, Bear. I literally don’t change anything, ever.
Your mom taught me how to make it when we were 12, and I’ve been making it ever since exactly how she makes it.
You’re crazy.” She says, her voice all teasing.
God, it’s so good to see her feeling better.
Her smiles are coming more freely right now than they have been recently.
“I don’t care if you never change anything, it’s better. You’ll never change my mind.” I give her a quick kiss on the forehead before I grab a glass for some water. I walk around the island and sit on the bar stools that we have set up there, thinking about the first time Bailey made alfredo sauce.
Age 12
I walk into the house from the backyard and the smell of garlic and cream hits my nose.
Maddox and I have been throwing the football around for the last few hours with Pop.
I know the girls are all inside hanging out with Momma, and by the smells coming from the kitchen, they’re making chicken alfredo for dinner, my favorite.
“You have to let it boil, Bailey Girl. It won’t be thick enough, or blend together right if you don’t.” I hear Momma say as I peek into the kitchen.
“That smells amazing.” I say as I enter the kitchen.
“Get your stinky butt out of here, Aiden Matthew. Go shower before dinner is ready. Tell Maddox the same thing.” Momma says tossing a dish towel at me.
I just laugh and walk up the stairs toward my bedroom.
I yell at Maddox letting him know that Momma wants him to shower before dinner, then hop in the shower myself.
Twenty minutes later I walk into the dining room and take my seat between Pop, at the head of the table, and Blue. We dish up the pasta, and at the first bite I moan at how good it is. Momma has always made homemade sauce, and I love it every time she makes it.
“Did you do something different this time, Lizzy? It tastes better than normal.” Pop says, taking another bite of his food.
Momma gives him a flat look from across the table, “Bailey made it. I just instructed her, but it was all her.” The twins and Charly all laugh at that, and Bailey blushes.
“You made this Blue? It’s so good.” I say, “even better than Momma's.”
“Stop. No it’s not. I’m still learning.” Bailey says quietly, “No one could beat Momma’s sauce.”
“I don’t know Bailey. It’s amazing.” Pop backs me up.
“See if I ever make you Alfredo again.” Momma says teasingly.
“That’s fine, we can just have Bailey make it from now on.” Charly says around a mouthful of food. That girl is a mess.
“You guys, stop. It’s not that good.” Bailey says, obviously not liking the attention being on her. “Charly made a turtle cheesecake for dessert.”
“And it’s damn good.” Charlotte says proudly.
“Charlotte Grace Baker, you better watch your mouth.” Momma chastises.
Dinner is always like this around here. The siblings picking on each other, Momma and Pop trying to control the chaos, but tonight feels special.
Bailey cooked my favorite meal for me for the first time.
I didn’t even know she wanted to learn how to make Momma’s alfredo sauce, but it makes me feel special that she did.
I watch as she finishes cooking dinner. Once she’s done, we sit at the island and chat about our days.
She’s gotten permission from her professors to watch her lectures and do most of the work for her classes at home.
She just has to go into the classroom to take her exams. With her pregnancy being so hard, it’s been good for her to not have to leave the house and walk around campus very often.
I’m really glad I finally convinced her to stop looking for jobs.
She doesn’t need that kind of stress right now.
I know she wanted to keep some independence, but it truly would have been too hard on her body to add anything else to her plate, even a few hours a week.
She tells me about the lecture she had today for her pharmacology class. I can’t say that I found it as interesting as she did, but I love how excited she got about it.
When we’re finished eating and have cleaned up the kitchen and put leftovers away, we head into the living room and turn on New Girl.
We work on homework in comfortable silence while our favorite show plays in the background.
We started watching this show in high school.
I really thought I was going to hate it, but she was completely sure we would love it.
I mean, it’s a show about a girl who moves in with a bunch of guys.
It sounded really weird, and totally girly, but because I can’t say no to this girl, we watched it.
She, of course, was right, it’s the best show in the world.
I stand up to stretch my legs and get us both a snack a couple hours later.
Blue has moved to lean against one of the arms of the couch, apparently done with homework for the moment.
Once I’ve sat back down, she puts her feet in my lap, a silent request for me to rub her feet.
I press my thumb into the arch of her foot and she moans.
Involuntarily, I think about other ways I could make her moan like that.
Getting over Bailey is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I cannot live my life in love with someone who doesn’t share my feelings.