“We were on that California road trip, without Gran, so Mom was nicer than usual. The sun was shining and the windows were down, that song came on and Dad locked eyes with me in the rear-view mirror, since this was during my non-speaking years, he winked and then cranked that song way up and everything was okay. It was all going to be okay…I’ve dreamed of moving to California and becoming a surfer girl ever since.”
“I suppose I can understand that,” Aiden says, grabbing my hand as we walk down the busy street. Electricity shoots up my arm, buzzing like the energy around us, even though I’m still a snotty, weepy mess. I look down at our fingers. “This is for your safety as your friend,” he says, squeezing my palm in his. “It’s New York, after all.”
“Isn’t Renaldo, like, right back there?” I ask.
“Who?” He smiles. I still can’t believe it when he does this. How absolutely gorgeous he is when his face lights up. He’s suddenly so unexpectedly bright and fun and warm. Like a mug of warm cocoa in the dead of winter.
“Where are we going?” I ask, willing myself to look away.
“We’re just walking, it’s a Saturday night in New York.”
It is. It’s a sparkling, not-too-hot, bustling, totally awesome night in the city. We’re off-off broadway somewhere, a street lined with trees and brownstones and small venues like theone we just enjoyed. Up ahead, skyscrapers glow above and the noise of Times Square rings out.
I’ve been to New York before, of course, since it’s less than two hours from home. But it was always to do some specific, touristy thing. Never just to walk and take it in. I look around, fighting a smile. I know Aiden is watching me.
“You’re not walking me to your apartment here, are you?”
He stops us, “Wait, is that an option?” He starts to pull me in the other direction dramatically.
“No! No, we need to go back. I have to be back in the store tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he slumps playfully. “Let’s just walk a little while longer.”
I don’t respond but I start walking again. He’s looking at the upcoming intersection, so I take the moment to study him for a change. He fits here. His clothes, his dark, perfect hair, chiseled jaw and fearless posture. It’s not like he was made for the city it’s like New York was made for him. I bet London is the same. Makes me wonder why he’s been in little ol’ Juniper Falls so long.
I stop walking, “On one condition.”
He raises his eyebrows, “Oh, what’s that?”
“We only walk as long as you answer my questions,” I say.
“Deal, I’ll talk all night long.”
“Just like that?” I say, surprised.
He nudges me playfully, “Answering your questions is no hardship. I’m a grumpy arse, not an introverted one. Plus, who wouldn’t want to talk about me? I’m amazing.” He jokes.
“Uh huh,” I roll my eyes.
“You said it.”
“Your body! Your bodyis amazing!”
His smile grows, “Now you’re shouting about it to all of the city, you’re very passionate about this,” he calls over his shoulder to Renaldo, “We’ll have to up our routine, eh?”
We laugh and walk and talk for probably an hour, covering everything and nothing. It’s different, refreshing even, how sure of himself he is. He answers each question, from his favorite childhood nanny to his favorite ice cream flavor, with zero hesitation.
We talk about our friends and he surprises me by asking me to put in a good word for him with Janie. It surprises me again to hear about his time in school with Benedict. Apparently none of his little rich friends knew how to function away at school without an adult. So at a young age Aiden became their adult. He has hilarious stories about sneaking them snacks, bribing prefects and using his parents’ fleet of planes without permission.
He truly is a caretaker, even if his doctor manners are lacking.
We stop to get ice cream and I decide to finally ask what I really want.
“Okay. Time to tell me what your big dream really is and why my dad’s shop has to be leveled for it.”
“Damn,” he chokes on his rocky road as we wait at the crosswalk. “I am rubbing off on you.” He looks down and wags his eyebrows, “Not as often as I’d like, for the record.”
“Aiden!”
