Chapter Nineteen
Aiden
I take a cold shower and she goes to bed. I refuse to give in to my physical craving for her. She doesn’t want it, either. I understand her reasons, even though she didn’t go into them. Her fear is that she’ll lose me once this is over. I get it, because she will. That much is inevitable. So I soldier on in the face of weakness.
If you saw the most beautiful flower in the world, would you let it continue to grow, or rip it out of the ground for your own temporary pleasure? Okay, did I just do a flower analogy? I hope they can reinstate my man card sometime soon.
I offer her the king-size bed despite her objections that I’ll be uncomfortable on the small couch.
As if I can be comfortable.
I can’t get used to the couch with the way my feet dangle off it and all the damn cushions. I end up on the floor, next to her bed, a sheet beneath me. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. Most of the time, I prefer it. When I was five, Harlan accused me of stealing from him. I didn’t consider taking my mother’s photo from the fireplace mantle stealing, but he did. She was pretty, my mom…blonde hair, green eyes, and pale skin. I would stare at the picture of her for hours, trying to find myself in her features. It gave me comfort that I didn’t resemble my father. He barged into my room, screaming that a pussy thief like me didn’t deserve a bed. He flung the sheets off me, causing the picture frame to fly and shatter against the wall. He blamed me for breaking it. He made me kneel on the broken glass while he accused me of jacking off to her picture. I didn’t even know what that meant at the time. He shouted that I was sick in the head. That I had killed her and ruined his life. The words were nothing new, but they hurt just the same.
Somewhere in the midst of this, Amy woke up and begged him to stop. He did and told me to go to bed. I should have known better. Never believe a monster. He even tucked me in. Then he lifted my mattress, rolling me right off it. It was painful. Not as painful as his leather belt, and definitely not as agonizing as the leather belt when the shiny silver buckle was attached to it. But the surprise of being tossed from my bed made me pee my pants. That happened a lot…being flung off the bed and peeing my pants. Eventually, I learned sleeping on the floor is safer. Even today, I get my best sleep when I’m lying on the ground.
In some ways, I’m grateful the memory came to me as I lie on the floor. It’s easier to distance myself from Emma when I think back to my childhood. It reminds me we come from two different worlds—not that either of us is normal.
She is the girl who lost everything.
I am the boy who never had anything.
I wake up in the middle of the night, the memory fading away…dying and distant. Emma is lying next to me. She must have draped a sheet over me while I slept.
I shake her awake, demanding an answer. “Why are you on the floor?”
“You were having a nightmare. I didn’t wake you up this time, but I didn’t want you to be alone, either.”
“It’s over.”
“I know.”
“Get off the floor.”
“I want to sleep here.”
“Why?”
“Because this is where you are.”
“Go to bed.”
“Maybe I will if you stop waking me up.”
“Go. To. The. Bed.”
“No.” Her back is to me. She shivers. “You could at least share the sheet, though.”
I sigh, throwing the cover over her, trying to summon annoyance I do not feel. God help me, I put my arms around her. She smells of vanilla and rum and sour apple Jolly Ranchers. I bury my face in the silk of her hair. This isn’t real, I tell myself. I am still dreaming. I can do what I want in a dream.
It wasn’t a dream.
She’s still on the floor, pressed against me, when I wake. My morning wood stands at attention for her. I shift away. Down, boy, down, I beg.
She stirs, but she doesn’t wake. Once I get a hold of myself, I lift her gently, depositing her on the bed. She stretches and mumbles something about rum as I tuck her in. I should walk away. Instead, I lean down and kiss her forehead. Her skin is warm against my lips. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t kiss foreheads. I barely kiss at all.
I head down to the hotel gym and run on the treadmill at top speed until every muscle rebels with an aching burn. Emma may not be a virgin, but she’s definitely innocent. I am not. On some level, that distinction attracts me to her, but on another much darker level, I want to steal her innocence. To devour it so whenever she mourns the loss of her purity, she’ll think of me.
She’s sprawled on her belly fast asleep when I return. “Get up,” I say, opening the blinds. The sun hits her hair in such a way that the gold and red strands almost glow.
She stirs but doesn’t wake.
“Up.”
She puts the pillow over her head.
“Get up. Get up. Get up.” I say, bouncing on the bed.
“Why are you being mean? Let me sleep.”
“I’ve let you sleep for hours. It’s ten a.m.”
She rolls to her back. “You look sweaty.”
You look tasty.
“I was working out. I’m going to shower.”
She yawns, sitting up and stretching her arms. “I’ll get our stuff ready.”
“We’re spending another day here.”
She leans up on her elbows. “Why?”
“Because we’re in L.A. You have this world is my oyster thing going on.”
“Okay, Cliché King.”
“Point is, maybe you won’t come back here. Maybe you never get to do all the things in this brochure.” I throw the pamphlet at her. “We can do anything today, be anything. Obnoxious tourists, or beach bums, or explorers—the normal people.”
“Aren’t we normal?”
“Are we?”
She thinks about my statement for a minute. “I guess not. I’m really good at faking it, though. I think you have a harder time.”
“Wow, way to ruin the mood.” Why don’t we address my inner-child now, Emma?
“Let me finish. I’m good at faking it, but I don’t feel the need with you, Aiden. I’m glad you’re my friend. You don’t have to fake it with me, either.”
Fuck me.
“Trust me, Emma, there is no faking when it comes to me. Do you want to do this? I really want us to have this day. I think we both need it.”
“This short detour is taking a long time.”
“Are you in a hurry to get to where we’re going?”
“No.”
“Then let’s do it.”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
Neither of us has mentioned getting another room. We also don’t talk about the night before, proving my point that we are not the normal people.