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“I don’t know,” she says again.
I fucking hate those three words. “That’s bullshit.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why did you kiss me back, Aiden?”
Part of me wants to shrug and give her the same shitty answer, but I promised Em I’d put my cards on the table. “Because when I’m with you, I’m not numb.” When she doesn’t say anything, I add, “I know that sounds fucking stupid, but I feel more with you than I’ve felt with anyone in a long time.” She’s still staring at me, and it’s making my heart pound in my chest like a caged animal. “I’ve only ever loved two people, okay? My mom left when I was two, so I don’t even count her. I only had my dad—and I loved him. Because that’s what kids do; they love their parents even when their parents don’t deserve it. The only people I’ve ever loved hurt me in ways that they shouldn’t have, so I stopped trying. I stopped trying to feel—but I feel things with you.” Her eyes are unblinking as she watches me, and it’s making me sweat. “It’s not always a good feeling,” I blurt out. “Sometimes, when I’m around you, I just feel bad about the shit that comes out of my mouth. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” She frowns, her eyebrows furrowing, and I feel like I’ve said the wrong thing. “But sometimes it is a good feeling, like you being in the same room makes me feel less alone.” I’m putting my foot in my mouth. Letting out a sigh, I give up and say, “Seeing you happy makes me happy.”
Claire chews on her bottom lip as she studies me, and I wish she would just say what’s on her mind.
And I wish I could bite that bottom lip.
Fucking focus, Aiden.
Finally, she says, “Who was the other person?”
I lift my gaze, unsure of what she means at first.
“You said you’ve only loved two people, but you don’t count your mom, so who’s the other person?”
Shaking my head, I shrug it off like it didn’t bring my world crashing down. “Just an ex.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line as she thinks about what I’ve said. I hope she doesn’t ask more questions. I don’t want this conversation to turn into one about Sam.
“Why didn’t you ever talk to me after that night?”
I blank. “What?”
“In high school,” she prompts.
My guard immediately goes up. “I thought we weren’t talking about that night.” That night was the first night I told anyone what was going on. I was so ashamed when I got home that night, and every time I looked at Claire after that, the shame would creep back in.
She bites her thumbnail and paces into the kitchen. “I had a dream about it last night. I just don’t understand why you never spoke to me after that.”
Now I’m in another moment where she’s unintentionally making me feel like shit. Following her into the kitchen, I say, “I told you something no one knew that night. I guess I didn’t like that you had so much power over me. You knew too much.”
Her back rests against the counter as she studies me with those big, brown eyes. “I didn’t feel like I had any sort of power over you. If anything, it felt the other way around.”
The kitchen reminds me of yesterday, and I’m getting distracted, so I pick a spot a safe distance from her before answering. “Claire, I told you about my dad. I didn’t know what you’d do with that information. If you had told anyone about that, my life would have changed completely.”
“I thought about it,” she says quietly. After a pause, she adds, “But I would have talked to you first.” When I don’t say anything, she adds, “How are things with your dad now?” and her voice is barely above a whisper.
Her question strikes a nerve. I don’t talk about this. With anyone.
But this is Claire.
Taking a steadying breath, I shrug. “We don’t talk. I moved out senior year when I was seventeen.”
“Where did you go?”
This isn’t exactly the conversation I thought we’d be having. “My girlfriend’s parents let me stay with them until graduation.”
She nods slowly like she’s remembering something. “Julie Moretti.”
She’s right, but she seems to know that already, so I keep my mouth shut.
“I wanted you to kiss me that night, you know. There was a second that I thought you might have.”
Her confession might as well transport me back to that moment. I remember her looking up at me. I remember feeling like she was waiting for me to do something, and I remember leaning in until I chickened out at the last minute. I glance down before daring to bring my eyes back to hers. “There was a second that I thought I might, too.”
