Wait. Jason was the one who opened the door. Jackson was the one who told his brother it was wrong. Jason studies his feet and holds one arm, clearly feeling guilty but still letting his brother take the fall for him.
Aiden shuts his eyes and gives a defeated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just go upstairs. We’ll talk about it later. You, too, Jason.”
The boys give me a last glance, which I return with a small smile, and I hear them make their way up the stairs.
Aiden takes a calming breath and turns to fully face me. “What are you doing here?”
Still focusing on keeping my gaze above his bare, sculpted shoulders, I try to organize my thoughts.
“I know why you’re mad at me, and I wanted to say I can totally understand. I mean, I’d be pissed at me, too, if I did that, but I know that I can explain everything to you, but I just don’t know how, and I really don’t want this to ruin our friendship and this thing that we have going here but—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Aiden asks, cutting off my incoherent rambling.
“Um, about, you know—you’re mad because of me?”
Aiden suddenly snaps. “Not everything’s about you all the time, Amelia!”
His outburst takes me completely off guard. “Oh. Okay.”
Aiden genuinely looks annoyed and tense. He hasn’t talked to me like that since the first time I bumped into him on my first day at school. Taking the hint that he really doesn’t want me here, I take a step backward to escape before I make things worse like I always do.
“Sorry, then, I’ll just . . . yeah.”
I turn around to make my escape, and hear the door slam behind me. Not even two seconds after the door closes, I hear it open again, and Aiden shouts my name. Freezing in place, I don’t turn around to face him, refusing to let him see how much he affects me. I can feel him behind me, but I won’t look at him, I just can’t.
“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding sincere and defeated. He turns me around to face him, leaving his hands on my arms. He looks tired. He looks defeated. He looks frustrated. He looks . . . lost.
“I’m not mad at you,” he begins. “I’m just taking out my anger on you. You don’t deserve that.”
“It’s okay, Aiden. You know I’m here if you need anything.”
“Can you come back inside?”
Aiden steps back on the porch, gesturing for me to follow him. I walk into his house and he closes the door behind me. I take off my shoes as he tells me he’ll be back in a second, and he disappears up the stairs.
I can’t help but simultaneously pray that he did and didn’t go get a shirt to put on. I mean, it’d be a lot easier to think, but damn that boy rivals even the hottest Armani model.
Aiden comes down a few seconds later—sadly, with a shirt on—and we head into the kitchen.
I sit on the stool at the kitchen counter and Aiden remains standing on the other side of the counter in front of me. It’s quiet for a moment, each of us just looking at the other, not knowing where to start.
“So—”
“I just—” We speak at the same time.
“You go first,” I encourage him.
Aiden takes a calming breath. “Remember how I told you that the first day I met you I took my aggression out on you because I just learned Greg could be released on parole?”
I nod.
“I guess I’m doing the same thing now.”
“You mean—”
“Yeah. I found out Saturday morning he’s being released in two weeks.”
That’s why he cut everyone out this weekend and skipped school today—he has much bigger things to worry about.