by Portia Moore
Still, after everything that happened, what surprised me the most was . . . Aidan. He wasn’t really the Aidan I expected, aside from him wanting to go and kick Jack’s ass—I’m actually regretting stopping him, since I have absolutely no clothing—but Aidan mostly just sat there and listened and let me cry on his shoulder. I didn’t expect that. I don’t know what I really expected from him. Even as I walked up the steps to his house, I didn’t know what he’d say or do. I figured he’d give me a night to get my bearings together, but to let me stay almost indefinitely? That shocked me.
What shocked me even more was that after he showed me to this room, he told me I wasn’t a whore. If someone had bet me yesterday that Aidan would tell me I wasn’t a whore, I’d have lost the little life savings I have.
I trip down the stairs and into the kitchen, reminding myself to give Aidan money for groceries. When I round the corner and see Hillary standing at the half-opened fridge and drinking orange juice, I start to turn back around and leave. Before I can, she turns toward me, looking just as uncomfortable as I am.
“Hey.” She sounds chipper.
“Hi,” I answer, returning the same enthusiasm.
“There’s nothing much here that’s not frozen. There’s some old people cereal in the pantry.” She giggles, so I laugh.
I eye the box on the counter. As hungry as I am, I’d eat a bowl of raw eggs at this point. She grabs the milk out of the fridge, so I grab two bowls and two spoons and set them on the table. We sit quietly and reach for the Splenda to try to drown the dry bran flakes’ flavor.
After a few awkward minutes, she clears her throat. “I’m sorry about yesterday, the whole me opening the door and almost attacking you thing.” She laughs, and I can’t help but smile.
I chuckle, feeling the tension settle a little bit. “Yeah, you kind of scared the crap out of me.”
“I’m not usually that crazy. Aidan just kind of makes me that way,” she says.
I nod. I never thought of the fact that the girls he deals with become crazy after him. Maybe he’s the cause.
“How long do you think you’re staying for?” she asks, her eyes surveying me.
“Um, I don’t know yet.” I wonder if Aidan told her what’s happened to me. I feel as though she has so much more information on me than I have on her. Lauren had to have told her about everything that happened last year, but did Aidan tell her what I told him last night? How close are they?
She laughs at herself. “I’m so nosy. Forgive me.”
“How long are you staying?” I ask, and she seems caught off guard. Her expression immediately shows that she doesn’t live here, and I inwardly let out a sigh of relief.
I hope that question didn’t come off as catty, because I’m really not trying to be. I’m just curious. She’s the first girl I know of that Aidan’s let come to Grams’s house, and I wonder about the girl who has transfixed the unattainable Aidan. She’s beautiful, there’s no question about that. I can’t even attribute it to makeup or trumped up clothes. Her face is completely symmetrical, she has lips like Angelina Jolie, and her confidence is off the charts. But Aidan has gone through more beautiful women than I can count.
“Oh well, I planned on leaving later today. I have to get back to work,” she answers quickly.
Her eyes narrow on me again, and I look down at my cereal. I don’t have enough energy for a stare-off.
“Look, I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” she blurts out, obviously more uncomfortable with the silence than the forced, awkward conversation.
I let a genuine smile spread across my face. I hate awkward silences and would rather say almost anything to avoid those pauses.
“Aidan told me that you’re like his best friend and he’d never look at you that way so I’m completely cool with you staying here,” she gushes, and I scratch my head. “I-I think it’d be cool if we could be friends . . .”
I rub the back of my neck. “Friends?”
She nods.
“You-Lauren-you do know who I am?”
She nods again. I assumed from the way Aidan said my name last night and how her face contorted into a twisted shock of recognition, she knows exactly who I am.
She throws her hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m the last person to judge anyone.”
Now I know without a doubt that she knows what happened with all of us.
“I’m super curious about it actually,” she admits, and my eyes widen. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me now or anything, but . . . how does something like that happen? I mean, Mr. Scott is hot for an older guy, but you had Chris right there—”
When she stops suddenly, I glance behind me. Thankfully Aidan’s strolling into the kitchen with a glare that tells her silently to shut up.
“Morning, Leese,” he grumbles through a yawn, nodding at me. He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Morning, babe,” she responds cheerfully.
“I bet you’re starving since Grams isn’t here,” I tell him, and he nods dramatically.
“I never realize how much I miss her until she’s gone.” He pouts like he used to when we were twelve, and he rubs his stomach.
I chuckle as Hillary glances between us as if she’s trying to figure out what to make of us and if I’m really a threat.
“So what were you girls talking about?” he asks, eyeing Hillary.
“Just girl stuff,” she replies, waving him off. “I can leave a pair of extra clothes here for you when I leave, Leese. Well, except the underwear because that’d be kind of gross.” She giggles.
I notice she’s picked up Aidan’s nickname for me. I actually hate it, but he’s called me that forever. For her to say it, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard. But I swallow the need to tell her that. Hopefully she’ll be gone soon.
“She actually hates that name. Just call her Lisa,” Aidan says.
I fight away a smile.
Hillary’s eyes shoot daggers at him for a split second, but surprisingly she smiles it off. “Oh, sorry.”
Aidan looks between us and rolls his eyes. “We’re going to get her clothes later on today.” He pours the bland cereal into his mouth straight from the box, successfully changing the subject.
“No, we’re not,” I say quickly.
He finishes the mouthful. “Yeah, we are. They’re not keeping your shit.”
“Why don’t you want to go get your clothes?” Hillary asks.
“Because my stepdad’s a prick,” I mutter as I take my bowl to the sink and empty it.
“I’ll swing by and pick them up after I drop Hillary at the bus station,” he says.
“No!” I tell him, and he frowns. “I don’t know if Jack will be there, and if he is, he’s going to say something that will make you want to smash his face in. Since Grams is out of town and I’m pretty much broke, you’ll be in jail with no one to bail you out.”
He stares at me stubbornly. Those blue eyes could slice through ice, but I don’t relent.
“Hey, I can leave her my things. What are you, size four, right?” Hillary interrupts our standoff.
“I-I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I tell her, a little surprised at her offer.
She shrugs it off as if it’s not a big deal. “It’s not much. Just a few pairs of jeans and tanks.”
“How much stuff did you bring?” Aidan blurts out.
I give him a “I can’t believe you just asked that” look. He gives me an “I’m Aidan and I never think before I speak” look back.
“Relax, I wasn’t trying to move in with you and the little woman or anything. I just over pack,” Hillary responds with a twinge of bitterness in her voice.
They glare at each other a brief second.
“Still,” I relent. Walking around in Aidan’s house wearing his semi girl friends clothes is weird.
“Trust me, I know what it’s like to not want to deal with parents,” she says, for the first time offering me a genuine smile.
“O
kay. Thank you,” I say.
She hops up from the table, gives Aidan’s shoulder a loving squeeze, and leaves the room. Aidan turns toward me and smiles tightly. Uh oh, I know that look. He looks as if he’s in a closet with claustrophobia closing in on him.
“I-I don’t know why she brought that many clothes for an overnight trip,” he whisper-shouts to me.
“Relax, she’s a girl. We over pack for everything,” I assure him, though I’m sure she planned on leaving things around to make sure whoever she imagines Aidan brings here would see them.
“So how are you feeling?” he asks, and I shrug.
“As good as a girl who gets kicked out of her house twice in less than two weeks can,” I kid.
He leans forward, putting his weight on his elbows. “I meant about the other thing.”
“Oh, umm good. Nothing special to report.” I laugh, and he frowns at me. For the first time since I saw him in California, I feel nervous.
Hillary comes back with three camisoles, all various shades of black, and three pair of jeans and two oversized night shirts, all items that I would have bought myself. Aidan’s eyes go a little wider at the inventory of clothing she hands me.
“All yours,” she sings.
“Thank you again. I really appreciate it.”
“What’s your problem?” she asks Aidan.
“Nothing,” he says in the way that guys do when everything is wrong but they don’t want to talk about it. “I’m going to hit the shower.”
After he leaves Hillary and me alone, she rolls her eyes. “Ugh! What is his problem?”
The old me would have told her what his problem was, but the new Lisa that I’m working on being is learning to mind her own business, especially since if he kicks me out, I’ll be in motel hell for who knows how long.
IT’S NOT SURPRISING that a little after Aidan stormed off to shower and Hillary followed him, an argument ensued. Even less surprising is that soon after that that, they made up—very loudly. At least I was able to drown that out by taking my own shower.
Hillary yelled an obligatory good-bye as I changed clothes, and I did the same. Aidan told me he’d be back in about thirty minutes, so after they left, I searched the house for Aidan’s iPhone charger to give my phone some juice. I’m not expecting anyone to try to reach me though. I still haven’t heard from Brett since the day everything unfolded, my mom doesn’t have this number—not that she’d call me anyway—and the only person who I can call a friend is letting me stay in his house. So I’m surprised when I see a text message alert at the top of my phone screen. It’s from Stephanie.
Hey Hun. I hope you’re ok. Not sure what’s going on but wanted to check on you.
I can’t help but feel a sad smile spread across my face. Stephanie’s worried about me. I wonder if Brett’s said anything to her. Probably not. Brett probably just told her I went back home. That’d be enough for Stephanie to drop it. She’s not pushy at all.
I start to text back, but then I wonder if Brett put her up to this, if he secretly wants to keep tabs on me through Stephanie. It’s not that I don’t want Brett to know I’m alive and okay, but he could at least be a man about it and call me himself. I exit out of the text screen and lie back on the couch.
My stomach is growling. I rub my fingers across it, still in disbelief that there’s a baby growing inside it. A second baby I’m not prepared or ready for. Can I go through another pregnancy? Could I go through with an abortion? I’m still not ready to be a mother, but this time, things are different. If I do have the baby, could I just hand it off to a stranger? There’s no one waiting in the wings to swoop in and save the day like my aunt Danni did. I fold my legs and scrunch my knees against my stomach. God, I bet she’s in heaven and wanting to come kick my ass for being so stupid.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The next time I got pregnant, I was supposed to be happy and ready. Now I’m virtually homeless, unemployed, and estranged from the father. The one improvement from the last time is that even though I’m terrified and clueless about what to do, the pain in my chest I felt the last time isn’t here. Last time, I was heartbroken because the man I loved had no clue I had his child inside me. Now I’m supposed to speak with said child’s father about what my arrival in town means for him and our daughter, and I have no clue what it means.
I sit up as I hear the door open. I turn around to see Aidan with a big brown bag from McDonalds, and I could kiss him.
“I got you two double cheeseburgers with Mac sauce and some fries,” he says, tossing me the bag.
He still remembers my order.
“You’re my hero,” I say with a wide smile, tearing the bag open and almost gulping down my first cheeseburger. “When does Grams get back?”
He devours his Big Mac, making a fake orgasmic sound, and I nod in understanding.
“Next Monday,” he says after swallowing the wad of beef.
“So when she’s gone, is this what’s on the menu?”
“Pretty much.” He passes me the large orange soda sitting next to his feet and lets out a large belch.
“That was so freakin’ sexy,” I tease, and he winks, and flashes me a wide grin showing off his dimples.
I always thought it was unfair that he has those. Dimples should be something only nice guys have. Men who don’t just want to bang you and leave; guys who want relationships and families. Dimples should be a requirement of a gentleman, a tell-tale sign that he’s a keeper, that he could be the one. I know dimples aren’t the only thing that make girls want Aidan though. Aidan is hot in a way that most girls want. I can’t lie—he has a body that looks as if it was sculpted by God himself. I used to hate for him to go parading around with no shirt on, which he does whenever it’s more than seventy degrees. It was so hard not to stare. Plus he has eyelashes that make me envious, and his lips aren’t thin and barely there. They’re plump and heart-shaped, and if he hadn’t been sort of my best friend since we were kids and I didn’t know how much of an asshole he could be and he didn’t annoy me so much . . . but he was and he does.
“You love it,” he says just as sarcastically, showing off his set of perfect white teeth.
“So . . . are you, like, unemployed now?” I ask, ignoring the lonely butterfly in my stomach that has gone insane and is attempting to fly around.
“Yup, I’ve got enough saved up to open up the body shop by the end of this year,” he says casually, and my eyes widen in surprise.
“You’re opening up a body shop?” I ask happily. Aidan has always loved working on cars, but whenever I mentioned the idea of his own shop, he balked at it, saying there wasn’t enough money where we lived to sustain it.
“Yeah.” He gives me a half-smile, but I can tell by the way his eyes are lighting up that he’s really excited.
“That’s amazing, Aidan. Congratulations!” I squeal, and he nods shyly. Aidan is only ever shy is when he’s embarrassed, and he’s only ever embarrassed if he thinks he doesn’t deserve something. “So what changed your mind?”
He sort of shrugs, finishing the last of his fries. “There’s not much else for me. I’m done fighting. I wish I could be a rapper, but I kind of suck at that, so fixing cars just sort of made sense.” He says playfully.
“But you always said there isn’t enough money for you to do it here.”
“There isn’t.” He obviously can tell I’m confused. “I’m going to start it in Chicago.”
Now, I’m really stunned.
“Chris and Lauren are going in with me, and we already have some places scouted and . . .” He obviously notices my face dropped at the mention of them.
I almost feel sick. “Wow, that’s great. That’s really, really great.”
I hate that hearing the name of my former best friend makes me want to jump off a building to avoid being drowned with guilt, but even with those feelings, I want to ask Aidan everything about Chris—how’s he doing with his condition, about his impending twins, if he’s still te
aching. I want to know my best friend is okay. More than okay, I hope he’s fantastic. But I know now isn’t the time to ask about him. Aidan’s just now warming up to me, and I think even the mention of Chris would make him pissed off at me. He probably doesn’t think that I should ask anything about Chris and his family since I so gloriously almost destroyed it.
“Enough about me,” Aidan says, taking a seat beside me on the couch. His weight makes it sink. He looks at me dead in the eye. “So what’s the game plan?”
I take a deep breath and lean back into the couch. Aidan has never been one to beat around the bush. It isn’t his style. I fold my hands across my stomach. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he asks, his voice unwavering.
I can tell he’s trying to hide either irritation or amusement from his voice. Since I’m looking straight ahead and avoiding his stare, I can’t say.
“You came back here for a reason, I’m guessing.”
“Other than it was supposed to be a place where I had free room and board?” I say dryly, and he lets out a sigh of frustration.
“Come on, Leese, I know you’d live on the highway in a box before coming back and putting up with Evie,” he says adamantly.
This time I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s definitely in fix-things mode. Aidan the fixer. I really wish he could just be the eat-ice-cream-and-drink-wine Aidan. I’d love that right about now, as if Aidan would ever drink wine.
I let out a deep breath. “I just . . . I figured if there was a place to start fixing things, the place where I broke it all makes the most sense.”
He nods slowly. “Do you think you can get your old job back?”
I think about how hard it would be to work at a bar in my state and not take one drink. “Yeah, but since I don’t know what I want to do yet and alcohol is too tempting to be around, that probably wouldn’t be a great idea.” I chuckle, and he looks at me disapprovingly.