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“He won’t hurt the twins.” I hope my tone is comforting. “I know you won’t let anything happen to them.”
“Damn straight,” he responds without a second of denial or hesitation.
When we get to the parking lot, Noah and Mason have left Annalisa and Charlotte by my car, and are heading toward theirs. Aiden and I stop at the top of the stairs and turn to look at each other.
“I’ll see you tonight?” I ask Aiden, a small part of me hoping he’ll say no, while the bigger, stupider part of me is screaming Please come!
“Of course. For you, anything,” he responds, the intense look in his eyes making it clear that he’s not just talking about tonight, but about life in general.
Feeling the onset of tears, I suddenly can’t help but throw my arms around his waist and draw myself into him, burying my head in his strong chest. I can feel that he’s taken off guard, but he recovers quickly and puts his muscular arms around me, pulling me in closer. Realizing my mistake, I quickly draw away from him and take a few steps away.
“Well . . . see you tonight.” I don’t even wait to see his confuse
d expression or hear his reply before I turn around and jet down the stairs toward the two girls waggling their eyebrows at me from beside my car.
I hate myself.
All of my drawers are open and practically empty, and my closet’s in the same condition. Almost every single piece of clothing I’ve ever owned is littered somewhere on my bed or floor. Charlotte has tried on every nice outfit I have at least twice, unable to decide on the one she likes best.
“Julian says they’re all almost here,”—Annalisa looks up from her phone—“with the pizza.”
“I’ll go start setting up the kitchen,” I reply as I throw some clothes into a drawer and close it.
“Wait, do you have silver heels that match this dress?” Charlotte turns and gives me a view of the navy dress she’s wearing.
“I think I have a couple of options. Help yourself.”
I head out of my room and Annalisa follows me to help set up, leaving Charlotte to pick whatever shoes her heart desires. We’re just grabbing all of the plates and drinks when we hear the doorbell ring. I let Chase, Noah, and Julian in, followed by Mason and Aiden a few minutes later.
“Thank God!” shouts Noah when Mason and Aiden carry in some pizza boxes. “I’m starving!”
Approximately four seconds later, a couple of the boxes are almost empty courtesy of the five ravenous teenage boys.
“Char!” Annalisa yells up to Charlotte, who’s still in my room. “Come get some pizza before these pigs destroy the boxes.”
“But I’m not done yet!” she yells back.
Annalisa slaps away Noah’s hand, which is going in for a fifth slice while his fourth is still hanging from his mouth.
“Save some for us,” she scolds.
“Finish later!” I yell back at Charlotte. “Come eat!”
She comes down the stairs in her own clothes and we grab a couple of slices before the boys finish them all, moving into the living room to watch whatever movie they all agreed on.
I notice Aiden glancing at me more than a few times, but I make it a point to avoid making eye contact, sitting on the opposite side of the room between Charlotte and Noah. Everyone gives me perplexed looks, and Aiden definitely looks at me longer than necessary, but I pointedly look straight at the TV and eat my pizza.
About halfway into the action-comedy movie the Boys settled on, Charlotte asks if I have any extra blankets. I jump up to go get some, grateful to be away from the room and Aiden’s eyes.
I run upstairs to my room, not even bothering to close the door behind me. My room still has some clothes strewn about, and Charlotte threw a bunch of shoeboxes from my closet onto my bed, half of them not even opened. But I can’t focus on the mess. All I can think about is the way Aiden keeps looking at me, and how I much I want him to see the real me. I want to be with him, but I have to put him first.
“Amelia.”
I jump and turn around when I hear Aiden’s deep, honey-laced voice from my doorway.
“Hey,” I reply, trying to calm my raised heartbeat, which of course won’t work because Aiden is standing in my room looking all Armani modelesque.
“We need to talk about whatever the fuck is going on with us,” he says, cutting straight through the bullshit.
