by Nikki Chase
“It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. And you?”
God, I hate this small talk. It feels like we’re both skirting around something that could potentially explode, taking both of us down. And yet, we’re just having idle talk. You know, like normal colleagues.
“Yeah, same,” he says simply, clearly as uninterested in the topic as I am. “Listen, about what you said at the wedding, I—”
“Oh, no, that’s . . . Just forget about it,” I say quickly, cringing inwardly. I’m mortified by my own candidness that night. “I was just being weird. It was ten years ago. It’s all water under the bridge.”
“Aubrey, I can explain why—”
“Please, don’t feel like you have to do anything. I’m sorry I brought it up. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve known it was only going to make things awkward for us, now that we work together.” I give him a smile. “It’s okay. We were teenagers. Relationships don’t work out at that age. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“Just listen to me,” he says with so much authority that I can’t help but shut up.
I look at him expectantly. I guess, despite my efforts to convince myself to the contrary, I still care about what some teenage boy did ten years ago.
“Good.” Aiden smiles and tilts his head slightly. The afternoon sunlight falls on his thick hair, revealing the light-brown undertones in his dark hair. “I never got a chance to tell you this, but my dad died ten years ago.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say as I raise my hand to cover my mouth. “I had no idea.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I never told you much about my family. My dad was, uh, on his way home from the casino—again—and he’d been drinking—again. He did that often enough that he was bound to crash his car at some point . . . and he did, one night. I don’t think I was very surprised when I heard the news.”
“I’m sorry, A,” I say, my heart clenching for him. My dad can be annoying, but I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I were to suddenly hear that he’s… I don’t even want to think about it.
“You used to call me ‘A’ all the time. I liked it. I still do,” Aiden says with a sincere smile. “So anyway, my mom became convinced that there was something evil in Las Vegas, and she took me to California. She also forbade me from ever going back and from ever talking to anyone I knew from Vegas.
“She took my phone away but I, uh, I knew your phone number by memory. I wanted to call you, but by the time I finally found someone whose phone I could borrow, that number was dead.
“I couldn’t believe it. I called again and again. But it always said the same thing. ‘The number you dialed is not in service,’” Aiden says.
I study his features. It startles me to realize that he’s telling the truth.
“My dad took my phone away too,” I say. “I can’t remember why anymore. I’m sure it was something stupid. He did things like that a lot. He still does, actually. Just last month, I found out he was tracking my location with my phone.”
Aiden chuckles. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you’ve had first-hand experience dealing with him, and you know how crazy he can be.
“Well, one day, he acted extra crazy. I guess I had a bad test result or something. He took away my phone and changed my email password. I had enough of him, so . . .”
Aiden nods. “Yeah. I remember we had a plan just in case we had to get away from your dad.”
“Yeah,” I say. “So like we’d discussed, I left a message for you at the convenience store, telling you to meet me at a certain time. I never got a reply from you, but I went anyway, hoping you’d show up. But you never did.”
I force a smile.
As I take a deep breath, I feel my tension melting away. It feels good to talk about this and finally get some answers, especially when the answer is that Aiden didn’t just abandon me.
“I’m so sorry, Aubrey. That must’ve felt horrible,” Aiden says, his eyes filling with regret.
I take a deep breath. “It’s okay. That was a long time ago. And you obviously didn’t do anything wrong. You were just going through some difficult times.”
Aiden huffs a relieved sigh. “Thank you. That’s been weighing on my mind.”
“Sorry I got angry with you at the wedding over something that happened a long time ago.”
“That’s not a problem.” Aiden chuckles. “Honestly, it bothers me more that you haven’t replied to any of my text messages. I’ll forgive you if you say you’ll text me back.”
I should tell him that knowing what happened in the past doesn’t change anything. We still have a complicated history, and we work together. The smartest thing to do here is to keep a massive distance between us.
But instead…
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
What? Don’t judge me.
I can’t help but feel like Aiden and I may have something we can’t just let go. Hearing his side of the story was overwhelmingly healing. All that pain that I’ve been holding on to for years is now gone. All it took was a few words from Aiden.
Now, I feel like a door has been opened, and in front of me are so many possibilities my head’s spinning.
“Okay.” The corners of Aiden’s lips curl up as he gazes at me with tenderness in his blue eyes. “I’ll text you, then.”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow,” I say, meeting his gaze.
Aiden takes a deep breath as he watches me, as if he can’t believe I’m actually here. He smiles. Then, he turns around and starts to walk away.
But he only takes about five steps before he stops in his tracks.
“Hey, what are you doing right now?” he asks.
“Uh, now? Going home, I guess.”
“I was going to text you and ask you to go out with me, but I realize that’s dumb. I know you’re probably tired right now, but just in case you’re not . . . wanna have dinner with me?”
“Now?” I ask stupidly, in a bad attempt to stall.
He just said “right now.” Great. Now I look like an idiot.
I feel like I need to go home and process what’s just happened. But at the same time, as he was walking away, it suddenly started to feel so lonely.
And, I mean, it’s just dinner, right? It’s not like we’re going to jump into bed together this same night.
Aubrey
That Same Night
You know, it feels weird to see you here. I’ve always associated you with Vegas.” I pick up a nacho, dip it in cheese, and look across the table at Aiden.
“That’s funny. I’ve been here for ten years,” he says as he takes another sip of his beer. “So this is where you hang out, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s close to where I live, close to the hospital, and close to my old college as well, so most of the time it’s the convenient choice.”
“No kidding. This is prime location. It took us two minutes to walk here from the hospital.”
I give Aiden a smile. Our location is not the only thing that feels strange about what’s going on. It’s also the fact that we’re having small talk like strangers do. I feel like Aiden and I have gone way past the introductory stage now, and yet here we are.
“Where do you live?” I ask, despite the niggling feeling that I’m asking exactly the kind of question a stranger would ask.
“Just outside of town, to the east. The rents here are too high for my Mom and me,” he says easily.
Unlike some people I know, Aiden has never hidden the fact that his family doesn’t have much. I love the fact that he owns it and doesn’t seem to feel any shame about it. It’s easy to be confident when you’re doing well for yourself, but it takes guts to own up to your problems.
Despite his humble beginnings, he’s made it through medical school, and now we’re peers. That’s way more impressive than the same achievement for someone like me, or someone like Trey. We both have dads who are prominent physicians; they have enough sway to help us advance in our medical car
eers.
Trey’s been texting me, by the way.
He’s been asking me out and I’ve been giving him excuses that get worse by the week—I’m sick, I have to go to the dentist, I need to organize my books by color, Game of Thrones is on, I’m deep-cleaning my fridge, and my horoscope warns against going out of the house.
Now I need to brainstorm excuses that require me to be outside, because Trey’s offered to come to my place several times. You know, to help clean the fridge or something like that.
Trey’s a nice enough guy, really. He’s just a little brash for me. He’s also either dumb or gullible or both because he bought my lame excuses instead of laughing them off. Obviously, we don’t share the same sense of humor either.
It’s nothing at all like how things are with Aiden.
Even though being so close to him makes me nervous, I find it easy to find things to say, and whatever I say seems to amuse him no end.
The way he gazes at me, rapt with attention, puts a permanent smile on my face. We must look like idiots, smiling and staring at each other while the food only gets nibbled on every once in a while.
I don’t know about Aiden, but I don’t have time to eat. I’m too preoccupied with this invisible force that connects us together. Oh, and also, we’re kind of talking about cysts.
“So I brought out the ultrasound machine,” I say, “and wait for Dr. Graham to find me like she said she would. Meanwhile, I put the gel on the patient and run the probe over her skin.
“The patient looked at the screen and went, ‘Ooh, is that my ovary?’ I tell her yes because what else could it be? The probe was right over her womb. But then she asked me another question.”
“Oh, no. That doesn’t sound good,” Aiden says, already grinning in anticipation.
“She asked, ‘Do you see cysts there?’” I pause and let out a sigh. “So I had to tell her I didn’t really know how to use the ultrasound machine.”
Aiden chuckles. “That’s not too bad, as far as first days go.”
“Why? What happened on your first day?” I ask. This should be interesting.
“Oh, not much,” Aiden says. “I only almost killed one patient.”
I widen my eyes. “He survived, though?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was exaggerating. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Aiden shoots me an apologetic smile. “On the way to the hospital, the EMS took the insulin pump off this guy with Type I diabetes. I didn’t catch that right away, but I did before it was too late.”
As I exhale, I realize I’d been holding my breath.
“Sorry,” Aiden says again.
“No, that’s okay,” I say.
I know lots of doctors have a somewhat dark sense of humor; it’s a tool they use to cope with the impossibly massive burden of being responsible for other people’s lives.
It’s not that I’m offended; I just didn’t expect that kind of comment from Aiden. It reminds me, once again, that he’s not the same person as the teenage Aiden I used to know.
But I kind of like this new Aiden. He intrigues me. I want to get to know this gorgeous man sitting across the table from me right now.
“I’m told any doctor’s bound to make a mistake,” I say. “It’s inevitable because you’re only human. It’s healthy to poke fun at your own mistakes rather than let them consume you.”
“Thanks for saying that.” Aiden smiles as he runs his fingers through his hair. His blue eyes scan the restaurant. “I think they’re closing soon.”
“Really?” I check my watch. How is it already 9:45? “Yeah, they are,” I say.
“They just turned off the music and some of the lights. That’s the universal sign that they want us to get the fuck out of here.”
I laugh.
Aiden chugs the rest of his beer, and we quickly go to the counter to make the payment, leaving about half a plate of nachos on the table. He insists on paying—that hasn’t changed.
Once we’re outside, I notice we’re walking a little closer than we did before. A little slower, too.
God, I don’t want this spontaneous date to end. We’ve been talking for hours, and I still haven’t had enough of him. Now my own watch is telling me I only have a few minutes left? Traitor.
“This person who told you about how making mistakes is inevitable . . . Was that your dad?” Aiden asks as his arm grazes mine.
“Yeah. It’s probably hard for you to believe, but sometimes he says things that make sense, too.”
Aiden laughs softly. “He’s a good man, your dad. He said some good stuff during his speech at the wedding, too. I could tell how much he loves his family.”
“Sometimes a little too much,” I say wryly.
“That’s better than too little, right?” Aiden asks as we pass through the gate of my apartment complex. “I assume he’s the reason why you live in this nice building.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” I slow down my pace. I can’t believe we’re already here and we wasted our precious walk talking about my dad, of all things. I look up at Aiden.
From the way he gazes back at me, I can tell he feels the same way. His hand brushes against mine, although it feels more deliberate than the previous accidental arm graze.
When our fingers interlace, I’m not surprised. It feels like a natural progression of things, like this is exactly what we’re supposed to be doing.
We stop right in front of the main entrance to my apartment building, our fingers still entwined as our lips lock together. Aiden’s strong arms wrap around me, surrounding me with his musky scent.
He claims my mouth, and I kiss him back with the passion I’ve kept buried for too long. I thought it had left me forever. Turns out it’s still there, just waiting for Aiden to bring it back to life.
When we pull back from the kiss, the air is electric. Although our lips no longer touch, he’s got me trapped in his embrace and I’m clutching onto his muscled arms. We’re both panting, out of breath.
“Do you want to come up to my place?” I blurt out.
Aubrey
Still That Same Night
I lean against my front door as I fumble in my bag for my keys.
I curse myself for letting old receipts and other random things clutter my bag. Now it's impossible to find my keys with Aiden’s brawny arms around my waist and his lips on the back of my neck.
“Aiden,” I say, my voice sounding like a sigh and a moan at the same time. “I need to find my keys.”
“Go on. I don't mind.” As he speaks, his hot breath lands on my skin, waking up my sensitive nerve endings. He continues teasing me with his tongue.
I want to tell him I can't concentrate on anything other than what he's doing to me, but I get the feeling he already knows that.
Finally, I find the keys and open the door. We both stumble inside as it swings open, his hands in my hair and under my shirt, my hands holding onto his sturdy back for balance.
“I’ve been thinking about this since your speech at your sister’s wedding. I remember that red dress you used to wear. Does your sister know what you used to do in that dress?”
“No,” I say breathlessly.
I remember how Aiden used to slip his hand behind me and pull the zipper in the back of the dress down until the sleeves fell off my shoulders. Then, he’d nibble on my neck while kneading my breasts, making me arch my back on the backseat of the car.
“Naughty girl,” Aiden says in the kind of voice that sends a chill down my arms.
He corners me against the wall, his hard bulge pressing against me, reminding me of all those times we used to dry-hump in our clothes.
“You made me want to rip up that dress. I swear I had wet dreams of me doing just that, stripping you naked and having my way with you.”
“Sounds like you still want to do that.”
“You have no idea,” he says, his voice hoarse with desire.
I believe him, especially because the bulge in the front of his jeans is only growing harder.
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“We can go all the way tonight,” I say with a small, flirty smile. “You can have your way with me.”
Aiden growls—a primal sound that makes me want him to unleash the animal within. “You’d better mean that, princess.”
This time, I don’t mind it when he calls me “princess.” But before I can reply, Aiden grabs me by the waist and lifts me up until I’m sitting on the kitchen counter. The stone surface feels cool even through my jeans.
“Take off your shirt before I tear it apart,” Aiden says in a low, threatening voice. I have no doubt he’d do that. The dangerous glint in his sharp, blue eyes tells me he means it.
So I lift up both my hands and let Aiden yank off my shirt. My hair must be such a mess, but I don't care anymore. Because Aiden doesn't care either.
He's too busy staring at me with hungry eyes. He's ready to devour me, but at the same time he wants to stretch this moment a little longer. He puts his hand behind my back, unhooks my bra, and pulls it off my arms.
His palm feels hot on my back as he pulls me closer toward the edge of the counter. “Spread your legs,” he says as he pulls my knees apart and positions himself between them.
I gasp when I feel his hardness at the juncture of my thighs. Even through layers of denim, I can sense his urgency.
Aiden smirks as he notices the way I push my hips forward to press against him. “Put your hands behind you and stay still,” he says darkly.
Obediently, I press my palms against the cold, hard granite counter I’m sitting on. The urge to gain more contact with Aiden is overwhelming, but I force myself to just watch as Aiden gives me an approving smile.
I remember this. Even when we were making out as teenagers, Aiden used to like calling the shots. I can’t wait to find out how that dominant streak has matured now, after ten years.
“Good girl,” Aiden says as he grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling from the root so it doesn’t hurt, but with enough force to show me he’s in control.
