“It’s a bad neighborhood,” I lie, mentally slapping myself for such a stupid excuse.
He looks around at my very suburban block at the two-story houses with beautifully landscaped lawns and expensive cars sitting in the driveways.
He looks back at me and smirks. “Yeah, you could probably get allergies from all the flowers.”
“What are you doing here?”
He holds a white phone out to me and I take it. “You found my phone?”
“Yeah, when I went back to Noah’s Friday night.”
“Why didn’t you give this to me earlier? Or at the hospital today?”
“I have more important things to do. Plus, I wasn’t going back downstairs to my car to get it.”
“Oh.”
“I noticed you only had one contact in your phone that wasn’t Charlotte, Annalisa, Chase, Mason, or Noah. And that was your mom.”
“You went through my phone?” I ask, getting mad. Why didn’t I set up my password?
“Yes,” he deadpans, not even looking guilty about it. “I thought you moved around a lot, so wouldn’t you have other contacts in there? All the people you’ve met from other schools?”
“I don’t believe in long-distance relationships,” I lie.
“I also noticed you don’t have any apps, photos, notes, or music.”
“It’s a new phone,” I lie again, gritting my teeth. “If you’re done interrogating me, I have dishes to wash.” I try to close the door.
“Wait,” he says, and I stop. “Friday night, I got mad at you—”
“I know. It’s okay. I know we were all worried about Noah, and angry about the situation, and you needed someone to blame. The way you reacted wasn’t nice, but I guess we all react in our own different ways.”
“I shouldn’t have blamed you,” he says, looking slightly awkward and uncomfortable.
“Is that an apology I hear?” I smile slightly.
“Don’t get used to it. It won’t happen again.”
Aiden is walking off the porch and onto the first step when I call his name. He turns back around, looking at me expectantly.
“Thanks for saving my ass . . . with Dave, I mean,” I say, and hold up the phone that he returned to me. “And for bringing me my phone.”
I know I said I didn’t need to thank him last night, and that I was handling it just fine, but even I can’t pull off a lie that big. Bring trained in jujitsu helped me escape Dave, but I wasn’t strong enough to take on four giant, hostile boys.
“I got there in time to see you knock that first guy to the floor,” he says. “I wasn’t going to step in because you handled it just fine, but when I saw the others, I had to get involved,” he admits in a quiet voice.
“I’m glad you did,” I say.
He looks like he’s about to continue down the rest of the steps, but says instead, “How did you learn to fight like that?”
“Basic self-defense classes,” I say, our moment of honesty replaced by my lies again. “Good night, and thanks again.”
I lean against the closed door and let out a breath when I hear his car rev and drive off.
Back in the kitchen, I open the contacts app on my phone to text Charlotte to say that I got my phone back, and freeze when I notice the new contact entry. At the top of my contact list, since it’s in alphabetical order, is Aiden’s name and number.
6