Page 39 of Pretender

“Aiden has a sweet tooth. Noted.”

“Keep going,” Aiden says, the sides of his mouth twitching.

“Well, we got thirsty and bored with walking on the way to Waterloo station and stopped for drinks at this random bar in Soho. And we had the best night.” I press my lips together, trying to contain the joy that bubbles up in me at the memory. “Happy hour cocktails, dancing to reggaeton. It was great. But we ran out of cash before we ran out of steam, so we started bartering our chocolates for beers and shots from bartenders and other patrons.”

“It worked?”

“It did. Turns out chocolate is a currency.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It wasn’t all that fun the next day when we were painfully hungover and didn’t have any of the snacks to eat.”

Aiden chuckles and drains the rest of his gin.

“One more?”

“I’m okay, still working on this one.”

“I’ll be right back.”

The space feels colder suddenly, as if Aiden had been blocking a breeze. I drape my cardigan over my shoulders and take in the life of this place. People laughing, cheering. I miss that time with my friends. Those carefree days.

I let my gaze travel across the growing crowd in front of the bar, and I spot Aiden. It’s not hard. He’s taller and wider than everyone around him. In the light of the bar he looks like he’s from a different world. I mean, he kind of is. The world of Mayfair, glamour, and champagne fountains. But he’s almost shimmering, he’s so beautiful. Objectively, of course.

Women and men stare at him as they pass, and I chuckle into my plastic cup. The man can’t go anywhere without attracting attention. No wonder he’s turned into a shallow charmer—the world wants him that way. Everyone wants a little piece of him. I guess that’s where I disagree with the blogger’s earlier post. Aiden’s not exclusive, not from my perspective.

He approaches our picnic table with his easy smile.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Pardon me?” I touch a hand to my hair to check my ears are hidden. They’re definitely hot right now.

“Caught you staring at me.” His smile widens, it’s like he can’t contain it, and I do my absolute best not to react to it.

“Arrogant, are we?” I say, stifling my smile, but it breaks free as a smirk. “You’re so massive, it’s hard to avoid looking at you.”

I can’t deny where my eyes had landed, but he doesn’t need to hear about what I was thinking.

“Well, it’s hard to avoid looking at you too,” he says, his eyes intense as he eases into his seat.

“Are you calling me massive?” I point at him with my gin cup. “I refuse to give up my pickles.”

Aiden laughs. “That’s absolutely not what I said, and you know it. Please continue enjoying your … pickles?”

I sip my gin slowly. More slowly than I need to. Such a flirt.

What am I supposed to say to that?

Oh, giggles, thank you. Excuse me while I go fan myself.

Blargh.

“I prefer if you didn’t comment on my looks, Aiden, I’m not in need of flattery and it’s best if we keep this as professional as possible.” Or I’ll just get annoyed.

He nods, those blue eyes more piercing than ever.

“I’m sorry.”