I laugh, staring at him as if I can memorize the details of his profile. “Simmer down. You’re not that great.”
He takes his eyes off the road. “Aren’t I, though?”
Maybe.
He turns the radio on and raises the volume when he realizes it’s a song from my favorite band, Siren of the Heart.
Okay, he definitely is.
He reaches across the center console and grabs my hand, the warmth instantly making me feel at peace. It suddenly feels like so long since I’ve seen him, since I’ve really talked to him—not about the shallow stuff, but about the heavy stuff. The real stuff. It hits me all at once how much I missed him. As the lead singer of Siren of the Heart sings in the background about needing to be closer to his love, the tightening in my chest tells me I feel the same way. He’s sitting right here, right beside me, touching me, holding my hand, but for how long? How much longer will I get to be with him, to touch him, to feel his arms around me?
“Pull over,” I say.
“What?” Aiden’s eyebrows draw together as he scans me, but he pulls over easily since the road isn’t busy, and engages the parking brake. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t unbuckle my seat belt fast enough.
“Thea?” he asks, and my real name on his lips sends shivers down my spine.
Instead of answering him, I attempt to climb over the center console. Pain radiates from the crown of my skull when I bang it on the roof of the minivan. It’s more spacious compared to the Challenger, but I may have overestimated just how spacious.
Aiden’s eyes are wide. “What are you doing?”
I grumble as I unsuccessfully attempt to clear the center console. “I’m trying”—I bang my foot on the glove compartment—“to be cute and spontaneous”—I slip off my shoes, which are too bulky for what I’m attempting—“but I’m failing miserably.”
The expression on Aiden’s face changes as he realizes my intention.
“Don’t laugh at me!” I huff, and he doesn’t bother hiding the amusement on his face.
“I’m not. Here.” He reaches beside his seat and the seat slides back, giving me space. “Better?”
I flop into his lap with as much grace as I can manage and straddle him on the seat. His hands come to my waist under my leather jacket and my hands grip his shoulders, the earlier awkwardness gone in an instant and replaced with an intense longing. Leaning closer, I press against his chest, my heartbeat speeding up with each breath he takes, with each glance at my lips. His are mere inches from mine, hovering there, teasing me. He’s so close I can feel his shaky mint breath against my skin.
“Much,” I whisper when I can’t stand the miniscule distance anymore and bring my lips to his. As soon as his lips meet mine, the unsettled feeling in my chest lifts, and every nerve in my body awakens. It’s rough and desperate and I know he missed me as much as I did him. There’s a deep groan from the back of his throat and his hands slip under my shirt and up my back, pressing me even closer against his hard chest. I can feel him everywhere, invading all my senses. The softness of his hair as I run my fingers through it juxtaposes the hardness of his body, and the warm earthiness of his cologne mixes with something that’s entirely Aiden. As he kisses me, all my worries and problems melt away as I lose myself to everything he makes me feel.
Sitting across from Aiden now at an all-day breakfast place not too far from my house, stealing not-so-subtle glances at him, I’m glad we have some alone time to talk things through. I told him about what happened this morning with Kaitlyn, but he assured me that she and Ryan combined didn’t have two brain cells to rub together, never mind be able to uncover my secret identity, and it put me at ease.
“How’s everything between you and Mason?” I ask between bites of Nutella smothered pancakes. “He barely said a word at lunch.”
“We’re good. We just kind of pretend that night didn’t happen, which is fine by me.”
He doesn’t need to clarify which night he’s referring to: the one at the beach house when Mason basically told Aiden that he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve to be with me, right before everything with Harvey went down.
“Have you guys talked since?” he asks me.
“He called me to apologize for the hundredth time about my nose, and we talked a bit, but not about that night. I guess we’re going to pretend it didn’t happen too. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him in first period.”
Mason knows how I feel about Aiden; all our friends know. So even though he technically didn’t come right out and tell me that he has feelings for me, Aiden and I know the truth, and I’m sure our friends aren’t oblivious to it, even if they haven’t outright said anything. Mason is my friend, and I’d never want to hurt him, but I love Aiden, and Mason deserves more than trying to fight a battle he knows he already lost.
“How are you feeling about everything with your dad?” I ask, and Aiden’s jaw twitches. Every time I asked about it on FaceTime he would brush it off and ask me how I was coping with everything.
“You mean Andrew?” he corrects, and takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m fine. I haven’t heard from him since before New Year’s Eve, and it’s cool with me if I never hear from him again, unless it’s about him being arrested for ordering a hit on you.”
I hesitate. “And what about . . . everything else?”
“You mean the death threats from random people on the internet? As long as they leave my brothers alone, I don’t care.”
After Aiden’s interview exploded on the internet, he became semifamous. In addition to the whispers from kids in the hall, which didn’t faze Aiden at all today, he’s receiving both support and death threats from strangers. He doesn’t like talking about it, but my friends and I know it’s happening.
“Have they been getting worse?”
He shrugs, seemingly unaffected. “I’ve been trying to stay off social media. People can get really aggressive and I have other things to worry about.”
Being “Amelia,” I don’t have social media, but even I know the kinds of things people are saying about him and to him.
“Were these pancakes everything you ever wanted and then some?” he asks, biting into his crispy bacon.
I take his cue and we change the subject, continuing the conversation with lighter topics. We don’t talk about the past or anything that happened at the beach house. I think we may just need an afternoon where we don’t stress and can pretend everything is okay in our worlds. I’m not leaving him soon, and he’s not receiving death threats on the internet. We’re just two normal teenagers skipping sixth period, sharing a plate of pancakes.
“It’s still early, what should we do?” he asks me once the bill is paid and we’re making our way outside to the minivan.
“We can watch a movie at my house until you have to pick up the twins from school if you want?”
Aiden alone in my house? Please say yes, please say yes.
If he’s reading my mind, he doesn’t give me any indication. “Only if I can pick the movie.”
“Deal!” I agree and jump into the passenger seat. Geez, Amelia. Can you at least try not to look so eager?