Swapping the spray bottle for the scissors, I step in front of Aidan.
The moment I step in between his legs, the air changes. It's heavy, thickened with possibility. My stomach flutters as if there are waves inside my core. Aidan's breathing has accelerated, I can see it in the rise and fall of his chest, more rapid than it was only a few moments ago.
Forcing my arms to work, I lift a section of hair and run the comb through it, then capture it in between the sides of two fingers. My scissors are poised to cut when I feel his touch. Both of his hands are on the backside of my thighs. My whole body stiffens, including the hand holding the scissors.
Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, Aidan's hands run up the backs of my thighs, only to return to my knees. He does this two more times, and somewhere in between his second and third pass is when I feel myself relax just a tiny bit. I toss my scissors onto the countertop.
Tentatively I reach for his hair. Just a few moments ago I was touching him with the imprecise movements of an amateur barber, but touching him now feels different. My fingers run through his soft, overgrown tresses. His hair is so silky it slips through my fingers.
Aidan's hands are moving again, this time to the insides of my thighs. He stops himself before they climb too high. Can he hear my heartbeat? It's thundering in my chest, louder than a stampede of horses could ever be.
His hands pause, and he takes the deepest breath I've ever heard. With his inhale he breathes in the heavy, lusty air that is ripe with possibility, and with his exhale he replaces it with prudence and frustration.
My fingers still as his body sags. He leans his forehead against the bottom of my chest.
His words are muffled, but still I understand him. “You are my girl, Natalie.”
With those words, he has ended this. It’s his way of reminding me that I am too special, too important for there ever to be anything between us. He will not risk me. He will not risk us.
I step back from him, and his arms fall limply to his sides. I want to run and hide, but I don't.
I stand strong in front of him, my gaze on his. I see not only my best friend, but the man who has stayed by my side while I've loved and lost, made hard rights and easy wrongs. I cannot risk him either. Of all the things I could lose in this world, he can't be one of them.
“I’m going to get ready.” My voice is steady, even though the inside of me feels like it's in the middle of an earthquake.
I turn and walk out quickly because I don't want him to see my tears.
15
Aidan
“You look nice, honey,”my mom says, coming in through my open bedroom door.
“Thanks.” I turn back to the mirror over my dresser.
“How did your haircut go?” She examines my head.
“Fine,” I lie. It most definitely wasn't fine.
“It doesn't look like she took very much off.”
“Just a trim,” I tell her.
Mom nods. “Are you okay?”
“All good.” Grabbing my sports coat off the desk chair, I shrug it on and smile at her. “Promise.”
My mom isn't buying it. “You look…weird. And so did Natalie when I saw her downstairs a few minutes ago.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say sarcastically.
Mom blows out a short breath. “I didn't really mean you look weird. More just, your aura or your energy, or something like that. You get what I'm trying to say.”
I slip my feet in my shoes and bend down to tie them.
“Those are cute,” my mom says, probably trying to make up for her weird comment.
“Thanks.” I finish tying the laces on my leather tennis shoes and stand up.
