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The breath I’d been about to take gets trapped in my lungs, and when I find the courage to peek up at Aiden, his expression seems wholly serious.
“What?”
“If anything,” Aiden says, “you’d be out of mine.”
My mouth parts in surprise. “What? There’s no way that—”
“Cassie, you have to know...” He blinks then, seeming to realize the content of the conversation we’re having. “Okay. I think maybe I’m the one overstepping now.”
“No, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to—”
“I just don’t think you should ever imply that you aren’t good enough for someone,” he says matter-of-factly. “Least of all me.”
I have no idea what to say to that, left sitting on the bench with my mouth open and scrambling for some sort of response. Is he saying that heisin my league? Like he’s considered it? Or is he just being nice? I’m too afraid to ask; everything about this conversation is screamingdangerous.
We both stare at each other for what feels like much longer than the ten seconds it more than likely is. I notice the way Aiden’s eyes dip to my mouth, the way his throat bobs with a swallow and his chest rises and falls heavier than it did a moment ago.
“Hey, Dad! Come push me!”
Aiden snaps his head away, still breathing harder than he should be as he finds Sophie waving at him from the other side of the playground. He looks from her to me to her again, finally shaking his head before he stands up from the bench.
“Sorry. That was... I shouldn’t have—” He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, only to expel it from his mouth. “Just forget I said anything.”
I say nothing, because I have no idea what to begin to even say, watching his back as he walks away from me. Over and over, my mind is picking apart and piecing together every single thing thathe just said, to try to find the meaning of it, coming to all sorts of conclusions, each one making less sense than the last. Did Aiden really just tell me in some strange roundabout way that I am well within his league? That he is in mine?
And what the hell does it mean if he is?
It takes a long time for me to move from the bench as my thoughts race, knowing that I will be doing the absolute opposite of what he’d urged me to do.
Just forget I said anything.
Right. Fat chance of that.
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Fucking hell, Cici. That was incredible.
You asked me to be loud.
I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight thinking about you begging for me.
You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you.
I think I’m starting to get an idea.
CHAPTER 11
Cassie
Aiden at Disneyland turns out to be one of the most hysterical things that I’ve ever experienced. He looks out of place in his black shirt and his black shades and his dark jeans—a good head taller than most of the other guests and a permanent expression that is equal parts nervous and stoically resolved. Even so, he takes everything Sophie throws at him in stride. He wears the ears that match mine and hers that she begged for. He waits patiently in the costume shop (it turns out she wasn’t too old for princesses, after all) as she garbs herself in the whole nine yards: dress, tiara, wand, and shoes. He even rides every ride that she asks him to, even though I’m pretty sure he might be scared of heights. His knuckles were the color of chalk when Sophie made him go on the Incredicoaster.
It would be the perfect day... if it weren’t for the awkward air between us.
After Aiden left us at the park to go to work on Sunday, the extent of conversation between us from then until now has been nothing more than awkward hellos and goodbyes and a clipped text about tickets and reservations to some Airbnb nearby. He hasn’t said anything more about the strange exchange we had at the park—in fact, Aiden hasn’t said anything more than he’s had to since then. Even on the hour-long ride into Anaheim this morning, it seems like he only spoke to me when absolutely necessary, starting our back-and-forth cycle of avoiding all things awkward all over again.
Our communication skills do seem to devolve into elementary-like levels when either of us thinks we’ve overstepped. It would be annoying if I wasn’t being just as idiotic about it; I can’t seem to make myself bring it up, either, so I don’t think I can actually be upset with him.
By midday, I can tell Aiden is already exhausted, hiding under a shady tree on a bench as Sophie and I come out of the Matterhorn. Supposedly he needed a bathroom break that just couldn’t wait, but I’m not entirely convinced he isn’t scared of the Yeti. The birthday girl is chattering about the ride, adjusting the tiara she got from the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique (blue, because pink was just too girlie for her princess gown, apparently) and skipping alongside me just as she spots her dad.
