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“Very nice,” Howard takes in the paint before turning his attention back to Aria. “You outdid yourself. It looks professionally done.”
“Grandpa believes in me when no one else does,” Aria says. She laughs and reaches over to squeeze his shoulder. But there’s a softening sadness in her expression. “It will be hard to leave this place when I find a new job, someday.”
“But think of the rewards,” Howard counters, his hands going wide. “It’ll be a good move for you to branch out and do what you love.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. We’re going to the festival when it opens, right, Grandpa?”
“It wouldn’t be Christmas without that.” He gives her a glinting smile before turning his attention to me. “Now Theo, tell me about your work in the law. And then I’ll tell you some of the finest lawyer jokes you’ve ever heard.”
The squeak of the sneakers and basketballs at the New Hedge Rec Center is like the sound of a bell to Pavlov’s dogs. Instant calm. Instant fun.
And it mostly shuts out thoughts of Aria’s kiss last night.
It was a kiss unlike any I’ve ever had. Way too short. But holding so much intensity that, even now, I’m reduced to mush at the memory of it.
The problem is, it was a reaction to her sadness—and whatever else she was feeling about her ex getting engaged. Which is why it can’t happen again.
Still. I’m frustrated she and I haven’t had a chance to talk about it, even though it was fun spending time with her and her grandfather at the bakeshop today. Those two are something else together.
Here, at the rec, I’m playing one-on-one basketball against my brother Jesse, which makes everything better. I love to beat him at the game he taught me to play, but usually that only happens because I’m taller and have younger arms and legs.
But I can pretend I’m beating him because I’m that much better.
We take a quick break to get in line at the drinking fountain.
Jesse is in front of me—old men drink first—and he lifts the neckline of his T-shirt up to his face to wipe the sweat off.
“You need one of these,” I tell him, lifting my new workout towel from my shoulder. No chafing against the skin, this thing is as smooth as butter and highly absorbent.
“Let me use it.” He reaches for it.
“You cannot use my sweat towel.” I lift it from my shoulder and hold it high in the air.
He doesn’t play this game, instead waving me away. “You need a nice, specialized towel to impress the ladies here. The only woman I care about impressing had to work late to get things squared away for her booth at the festival. I’ve been meaning to ask, how is this year’s co-host gig? Do not let my wife down by ruining the festival, you hear?” It’s his turn in line, so he bends to get a drink.
I wait for him to finish at the water fountain before I respond. “Camilla will love this year’s festival.”
“I’m just glad our days of painting a booth are over,” he says. “It’s nice to have one that’s still in good shape.”
Jesse has moved to the side, so I lean over to take a long drag from the fountain.
“Speaking of impressing the ladies, what’s happening with Aria?” he asks.
I start to choke on the water and cough a little. Another drink calms my throat and lungs down. I wipe my mouth with the towel, and we walk away from the drinking fountain. “Wow, you really went for it, didn’t you?”
Jesse smirks at me. I’m guessing this line of questioning is payback for all the times I bugged him about Camilla before they got married.
“Did Camilla put you up to this? Because Aria and I are friends. That’s it.” I begin heading back to the basketball court.
“I saw you in the bathroom of Shorty’s when I brought you a shirt.” He stares at me long and hard, and I look away, bouncing the ball as I walk.
“Nothing happened in the bathroom, Jesse.” I shake my head. Wild imagination much?
Except, there was a lot happening in that bathroom, it just wasn’t the physical version. But the feelings? Yeah, there was a lot happening.
I’m also trying very hard not to think of the kiss—it was way too short, but it’s burned in my brain forever. And it’s getting harder and harder to explain away.
Jesse nods at my words, but his smile tells me he’s not exactly buying it. “I know the power of Shorty’s bakeshop, and the small spaces. Did I ever tell you about the time Camilla and I were kissing on a yoga ball and her Grammy came waltzing in?” Jesse drops his head back and laughs. “Let me just say, I did not handle it well. I ran away instead of dealing with her line of questioning.”
