She's With Me

by Jessica Cunsolo

  I notice Aiden glancing at me more than a few times, but I make it a point to avoid making eye contact, sitting on the opposite side of the room between Charlotte and Noah. Everyone gives me perplexed looks, and Aiden definitely looks at me longer than necessary, but I pointedly look straight at the TV and eat my pizza.

  About halfway into the action-comedy movie the Boys settled on, Charlotte asks if I have any extra blankets. I jump up to go get some, grateful to be away from the room and Aiden’s eyes.

  I run upstairs to my room, not even bothering to close the door behind me. My room still has some clothes strewn about, and Charlotte threw a bunch of shoeboxes from my closet onto my bed, half of them not even opened. But I can’t focus on the mess. All I can think about is the way Aiden keeps looking at me, and how I much I want him to see the real me. I want to be with him, but I have to put him first.

  “Amelia.”

  I jump and turn around when I hear Aiden’s deep, honey-laced voice from my doorway.

  “Hey,” I reply, trying to calm my raised heartbeat, which of course won’t work because Aiden is standing in my room looking all Armani modelesque.

  “We need to talk about whatever the fuck is going on with us,” he says, cutting straight through the bullshit.

  We do. As much as it sucks, I owe it to him to give him some closure. I can’t be with him, and I need to stop giving him mixed signals. If I tell him we can never be together, at least it will hold some accountability for me to stay away from him.

  “Yeah, I guess we do,” I answer solemnly, my heart breaking with what has to be done.

  “I just—I don’t know what I did to cause you to be so distant lately,” he starts.

  “No, Aiden, it’s not—”

  A loud crash from downstairs saves me from finishing the lame “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. Everyone’s talking over each other, and Aiden and I move out of my room and into the hallway.

  “Is everything okay?” Aiden yells down.

  “Chase dropped his glass and it shattered!” Julian yells back up at us. “Where are your paper towels, Amelia?”

  “I’ll be right there!” I yell back down.

  “Wait,” Aiden says. “We’re not done here.”

  “Okay—wait here, I’ll be right back,” I say before running down the stairs.

  I’m going to tell him I don’t like him in a romantic way tonight if it kills me. Just do it quick—like ripping off a bandage. Except this pain will probably last much longer and be more intense than some pulled skin and hair, but it has to be done. My life requires sacrifice; this just happens to be one of the biggest ones yet.

  We get all the glass and juice cleaned up in under five minutes, all while I’m mentally preparing the speech I have to give to Aiden and reminding myself that under no circumstances am I allowed to cry.

  When I get back up to my room, I start talking before I even look at Aiden. “Sorry, Aiden, I just don’t know how I can say this but—”

  I immediately stop talking when I look up and see Aiden’s face. It’s a mixture of anger, confusion, disbelief, and betrayal. It’s then that I realize what’s wrong.

  My heart stops and my stomach drops. My lungs stop drawing air. The shoebox. My shoebox. It was disguised among the others in my closet, and was one of the ones Charlotte pulled out but didn’t have the time to go through. It’s open on my bed. And Aiden is holding my three previous IDs in his hand: Thea, Isabella, Hailey. All variations of me with slight changes; all with the same age, so it’s not like I can claim they’re fake ones to get me into a club.

  He holds up various newspaper articles from the shoebox in one hand, my IDs in the other. “What the fuck, Amelia? Or Hailey or Thea or whatever the fuck your actual name is.”

  It’s then that I break my vow not to cry tonight. Tears stream down my face, prompted by the look of betrayal on Aiden’s face. He opened up to me. He told me all of the most personal, deepest secrets that he never tells anyone—never has told anyone. But me.

  He trusted me.

  And this is him discovering that he placed all of his trust in a person who’s been lying to him the entire time, right to his face, and is the biggest fucking hypocrite to walk the earth.

  I can’t think of anything to say to him, not one way of explaining myself—except the only thing that’s running through my head, the one thing I’ve always wanted to hear him say. “Thea,” I say quietly, and he looks at me in disbelief. “My name is Thea.”

  He looks back at one of the IDs, presumably my real one, then back at me. He drops everything he’s holding in his hands back into the box and looks at me, with what I can only describe as the visual representation of heartbreak. My entire body hurts, physically and mentally. I hate that this is how Aiden has to find out how fucked up I am—through a fucking shoebox.

  “Explain,” he breathes, his eyes narrowed and distrusting, his low voice turning the blood in my veins to ice.

  “I—Aiden, I’m so sorry.” I wipe the tears staining my cheek with my hand. “I didn’t mean to—”

  I don’t know what to say to make this better, to make this go away, to erase the look of betrayal written all over Aiden’s face. He’s the one person who ever really mattered to me, and now he hates me. I can’t have that. I need him to understand, to be okay with it, to forgive me. I need him to understand more than I need to breathe.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Our friends yell from downstairs for us to come back and finish the movie, and we glance into the hallway.

  “Shorten it.”

  Here it is. The thing I’ve never said out loud before. I take a steadying breath and refuse to meet his eyes. “I’m in witness protection. My name is Thea Kennedy. In order to keep myself and the people around me alive and safe from the man hunting me, I have to keep this secret. I couldn’t tell anyone—I can’t tell anyone—because then I’d have to relocate or risk him coming here to hurt me, to hurt the people around me.”

  Aiden sinks down on my bed in defeat. He looks at the articles with a newfound understanding.

  “I swear, Aiden, everything was still me. I haven’t lied to you about anything except my name.” I move closer to him, unable to stop myself. I need him to believe me, not to hate my guts. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone. It was just safer this way.”

  He looks at me, his eyes unreadable, then back at the newspaper articles.

  I feel the compulsory need to fill the silence. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I know I’m a terrible person, and I know you don’t deserve to be lied to. It’s why I’ve been pulling back the past couple of weeks. You’re amazing, Aiden. More than amazing, and you deserve better than me. You deserve more than someone who can’t even tell you their real name.”

  Aiden holds up a newspaper article, the one of me holding my ribs after being attacked in the mall, where three other people died that day. There’s an intensity and a sadness in his gray eyes.

  “You went through all of this? For a year? Alone?”

  I bite my lip, unsure where this is going, but I nod at him. There’s a loud pounding at the front door, and we both glance into the hallway. We ignore it as he drops the newspaper article and suddenly I’m wrapped in his arms. I feel like laughing and crying all at once. I expected him to hate me, to yell at me, to call me names, anything other than this.

  I wrap my arms around him, holding him to me like he’ll disappear, vaguely aware of the incessant heavy pounding at the front door.

  “It’s okay. I’m here,” he soothes in my ear, his voice thick with emotion. “You are the strongest person I know.”

  My heart skips. “No, I’m not.”

  He pulls back to look at me. “Yes, you are. You’ve been through so much—things that would’ve and should’ve broken you. But you’re here, and you’re still so full of life
and energy and a fiery attitude.”

  “You don’t hate me?” I ask, needing to know the answer.

  A small smile tugs on Aiden’s lips. “I think I need the full story one day, but I don’t hate you. I could never.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to run while you can?” I breathe. My heart picks up and he leans his head closer to mine. Aiden’s lips are mere inches away from mine.

  “I’m all in, Thea Kennedy,” he whispers, finally bringing his lips to mine and my heart erupts from pure happiness.

  He’s here. He doesn’t hate me. I’m not alone. And he used my real name.

  “Um, Amelia?” Someone calls me from downstairs as the heavy knocking continues.

  I reluctantly pull away from him even though everything inside of me is screaming to close my bedroom door and ignore the world.

  “Let’s just—let’s see what they want,” I tell him, wiping the tears from my face.

  Aiden’s intense gaze never leaves my face as he gently wipes the tears still running down my cheeks. “Let’s go, then we’ll talk.”

  He grabs my hand and follows me out of the room, my heart ten times lighter. He wants to talk. He’s holding my hand. He doesn’t hate me. Everyone has left the living room and is looking at the front door, then all look at me once I’m in sight.

  “We didn’t know if we should answer it . . .” Mason trails off when he notices my tearstained face, and my hand, which is held tightly in Aiden’s.

  I ignore them and head straight to the door, not even bothering to check who it is first. Swinging the door open, I pause when I see four police officers.

  “Is that Aiden Parker’s Challenger in the driveway?” the biggest one asks.

  “Um.” I don’t know if I should answer. What if it’s related to the street racing and gets Aiden in trouble?

  “Yes, it is,” Aiden answers, moving in front of me.

  “Aiden Parker?” a second officer asks.

  “Yes?” Aiden replies.

  Before I can even draw a breath, the four police officers storm into the house, pushing me back, and grab Aiden, roughly pushing him up against the wall. An officer violently yanks Aiden’s arms behind him and handcuffs him, even though Aiden is in no way protesting. They kick his feet apart and roughly pat him down for weapons, and all I can do is stand there, completely stunned.

  “What’s this about?” Julian angrily goes right up to one of the officers.

  “He didn’t do anything! Stop being so rough!” Mason comes up beside him, Noah and Chase right behind them while Annalisa stands back with a panicky Charlotte.

  One of the officers turns to face the four concerned boys and he puffs up his chest, making a show of placing his hand on the gun that’s in the holster on his hip. “Stay back. Let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be.”

  The biggest officer pulls Aiden off the wall with more force than necessary. Aiden does not resist in any way, his face giving nothing away.

  “Aiden Parker, you are under arrest for the suspected murder of Greg Simms. You have the right—”

  My ears tune out after that, white static replacing what should have been Aiden being read his Miranda warning. We all move onto the porch and watch helplessly as Aiden is dragged down the driveway.

  “Pick up the twins from Tyler’s house, Julian! Keep them with you,” Aiden yells before he’s shoved into the back of a police cruiser.

  The Boys spring into action, barking orders and making calls, but I can barely hear what they’re saying. The room’s spinning like it was when Noah’s head was cut open, but this time Aiden’s in serious trouble. There’s no way he could’ve done this—he wouldn’t risk losing the twins, especially so close to his birthday.

  The police cars drift off into the distance, lights fading the farther away from my street they go, leaving us all stunned.

  Aiden’s stepfather, Greg, is dead. And the police think that Aiden killed him?

  To be continued . . .

  Acknowledgments

  This story would not exist if not for my readers, fans, friends, and Violets. You have and will always be my biggest motivator to get me to unlock my potential. So thank you. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I appreciate all the kind words, support, and encouragement that you’ve given me throughout the years. Thank you for following me on this journey and allowing me to follow my dreams.

  Thank you to my mom, Carmela, who read to me every night before bed, for teaching me the beauty of words, and for showing me the power behind reading a good book. Thank you for being my biggest fan.

  Of course, I’d like to thank my dad, Bruno, for supporting me unconditionally, and for always believing in me without even needing to hear details about the project I’m working on. You’re the greatest.

  Thank you to my brother, Michael. He didn’t really do much, but he’s my brother and supports me, so into the acknowledgments he goes.

  To the Wattpad community, Wattpad Stars, and Wattpad HQ, thank you for always being such a great support network, and always being so quick and willing to help a Wattpad Star in need. It’s an honor to be part of this community.

  Thank you to Ashleigh Gardner and everyone at Wattpad Books—editors, publicists, marketing—involved in working so hard to make my book ready for publishing.

  Also a huge thanks to Crissy Calhoun, Adam Wilson, Rebecca Mills, and Deanna McFadden for being extraordinary editors, helping me transform this story from a draft to an amazing book that I’m so incredibly proud of.

  Thank you to my talent manager, I-Yana Tucker, for believing in me in the first place, for answering all my dumb questions immediately, for being my work mom and biggest cheerleader, for fighting for my stories, and for always having my back.

  To all the aforementioned people, and especially the ones I probably forgot, I will always be immensely grateful for having been put in your paths.

  Stay With Me

  Exclusive Excerpt

  1

  Sometimes life likes to laugh at you.

  I guess things get boring to watch every once in a while, so life goes, “Hey, why don’t we fuck around with her a bit? Don’t you think that’ll be funny?”

  And then life’s friends, drama, pain, uncertainty, and unfortunate events, go: “Hell yeah, dude! We got your back. Watch the shitstorm we can cause.”

  And then they all get to work, inserting themselves into your life, stirring up the pot, and then they sit around with a cold beer clutched in their hands and some boxes of pizza shared between them and they laugh and laugh and laugh at you.

  At least, that’s how I think it happens, because sometimes it seems like my life is just one long fucking episode of let’s see how we can fuck with Amelia today.

  There’s a man out there intent on murdering me. This man has hurt and killed other people in the name of getting revenge on me. And I have the world’s biggest crush on someone I know I can never be with, who just discovered that he was being lied to and deceived from the start, and who was just arrested.

  Aiden was just arrested.

  The police said he murdered his stepfather, Greg.

  But Aiden is not a murderer; he’s not capable of doing something like that.

  Or is he?

  He’s a fierce protector of those he loves, and he’s been worried about Greg harming his brothers ever since he learned Greg was being released from prison. I know he would do anything to protect his brothers . . . but murder?

  Aiden hates Greg with a burning passion—I’m pretty sure he did abuse Aiden as a child, after all—but I can’t see Aiden taking his life then coming over to my house to watch movies like it was just any other day.

  Why would the police think Aiden did it? He was at my house all night, and he was with Mason before that . . . wasn’t he? When did Greg die anyway? He’s been out of prison for a couple of we
eks; wouldn’t he want to spend some time with his son, Ryan, and not bother with Aiden?

  Ryan.

  I wonder if Aiden’s stepbrother has heard about the death of his father. I wonder if he’s heard Aiden was just arrested for Greg’s murder.

  Ryan already hates Aiden just for being Aiden; I don’t even want to know what he’ll do if he thinks Aiden is responsible for the death of his father.

  We haven’t been told anything, as the only interaction between us and the officers has been them occasionally glaring at us for taking up practically the entire waiting area at the police station.

  After Aiden was arrested, Julian, Mason, and Annalisa picked up the twins from their friend’s house like Aiden asked, and took them to Julian’s house for his mom to watch. Everyone else went to the police station, and Julian showed up a bit later with Annalisa and his father, Vince.

  Julian practically grew up with Aiden, so it makes sense that Julian would go to his dad—who’s probably known Aiden since he was a kid—for help. Plus, it’s not like Aiden really has any other adult to turn to.

  Vince is tall like Julian, with broad shoulders and a stern face, and there’s a commanding presence about him that gives him an air of authority.

  A bit after Vince showed up, Mason arrived with his dad, Brian. The adults went to talk to the police about Aiden while the rest of us sat worriedly in the tiny reception area.

  Brian has dark hair and tanned olive skin like his son, but is a bit shorter than Mason. I can tell where Mason gets his looks from, but Brian’s dark eyes lack that certain spark of mischief that Mason’s often hold—but then again, perhaps this isn’t quite the right situation for him to be happy about.

  As Brian and Vince talk to the officers, I can tell Brian is getting frustrated by the way he runs his hand through his hair like I’ve noticed Mason does, the gold wedding band sparkling brightly in comparison to his dark hair. I just hope they can work out whatever’s going on and get Aiden out of here as soon as possible.