The Stars Will Shine (17 page)

I take it from him with a shy smile.

“You have to hide,” I say, really regretting that it all has to end this way. “I mean, it would be suspicious if you were here and we’ve both been in the back with the front door locked.” Not that there is an innocent explanation for it.

“No, you’re right,” he says. “Dylan would kill me.”

I let out a laugh. “You mean he’d kill
me
.” Aiden only shakes his head in disagreement then darts into the stockroom and shuts the door.

I heave a sigh, flatten my hair, and straighten my shirt before ambling up the aisle like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Dylan still stands at the door, his back to the glass now. When I unlock it, he spins around and stares at me hopefully through the glass. I turn away and head around to the checkout counter. A few seconds later, the bells jingle, and Dylan steps inside, his face a mix of shame and indecision.

I don’t really have anything to say to him, so I mess around with the Miles of Vinyls
website I’ve been perfecting while I wait for him to talk first. Part of me thinks he’ll just turn around and leave. Part of me hopes for that, too.

But he finally opens his mouth. “I’m really sorry, Delilah.” I don’t look at him, just keep clicking around, moving some text on the webpage. “At the party, what I said—that was such a shitty thing for me to say.” I’m still clicking away, but I’m paying no attention to what I’m doing. “I’m an ass, I know it. I didn’t even think about it, you know? It was like I didn’t realize what I’d said until I said it.” I finally look up. His expression is torn. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“You’re kind of proud, aren’t you?” I say.

Dylan squints at me. “Proud of what?”

“Just proud.” I shrug. “I mean, it’s taken you two weeks to apologize to me—”

Dylan groans and presses his palms to his forehead. “I know, and I’m the biggest jackass for it. Look, I want things to be right between us.”

I sigh. “I forgive you, Dylan. Let’s just forget about it, okay?” He gives a small nod and starts to leave. I roll my eyes and call after him. “When I get home, I better find my bra hanging out the window or something.” He grants a small laugh, but we both know things aren’t going back to that.

Then, like the thought has just occurred to him, he asks, “Have you seen Aiden around?” I think my face turns a deep crimson, but I give my head a curt shake and hope that’s enough. He nods and leaves, his head hanging a little.

When I open the door to the stockroom, I find Aiden in the center, squatting with his elbows on his knees and his hands cupping his face, looking like he’s in a hospital waiting for news about the outcome of a loved one’s surgery. He stands up right away and gives me a look that’s clearly a question.

“He just came by to apologize,” I explain. Aiden lets out a deep breath, and I swear I can see a weight lifted from his chest. He runs a hand through his hair. I shift from one foot to the other. Neither of us will quite look the other in the eye, but I know he’s trying to contain a smile, and, as much as I’ll deny it, I’m barely suppressing one too.

Finally Aiden says, “I should probably go, I guess.”

“Yeah.” I step to the side, and he walks by me toward the door. But then he stops, turns his head a little, and says, “So, about that date…?”

I push him out the door, down the aisle, and out the front door, and he laughs the whole way. And when that door swings closed, he watches me through the glass with an innocently hopeful face, so I pick up a permanent marker and scribble my number down on a scrap of paper. When I hold it up against the glass, his face splits into a grin, and he quickly types the number into his cellphone. He waves goodbye, and I lift my hand in parting. But still we stand and stare at each other for another minute or so, with my heart doing dances inside my chest, until finally he leaves.

As I watch him go, I can’t help but notice the way he’s walking is like he’s walking on sunshine.

That’s when, gradually, everything sort of slows down. My smile steadily sinks as he walks away, and my heart—it’s like one of those slow motion scenes in a movie, where the speed of its thumping dies down but the volume gets louder and louder until it’s the only sound my ears can hear. Because in this moment, everything suddenly feels like it’s slipping away, and I’m left with a painful reminder—that only one other boy in my life was able to send my heart dancing like that, and how one day he just ripped it right out.

I get a text from an unknown number not even an hour later.

How about I pick you up after work tomorrow?

And then another immediately after that.

I, being Aiden, btw.

I stare at his text for a whole five minutes before I send one back.

Look, Aiden. I really did mean what I said at the party… I don’t date.

I could tell him how “dating” Lyle turned out if he needs further explanation. It’s a long while before Aiden replies. The silence in the shop around me is almost suffocating, excruciatingly so.

Okay, how about I meet you in your bedroom tomorrow night instead? Around 9:30?

Some of my caution seeps away. He always seems to know how to turn something serious into something lighthearted.

Did you just set a specific day and time for sex?

I’m hurt you think I’m that shallow.

I can’t help a laugh.

So you have no ulterior motives for wanting to meet in my bedroom?

Just to chat, I swear. When’s the last time we really sat down and got to know each other with words?

I roll my eyes.

Never.

Exactly. Plus, I really want to stare at your orange walls. I can sing you a song, if you want.

My heart stops then flutters to a start again, and I run my teeth over my bottom lip, contemplating his offer. He wants to get to know me. But why does it have to be like that? Why
can’t
he have ulterior motives? Why can’t this just be like the rest of my relationships after Tommy? Empty and meaningless. Sex and nothing more. Using and being used.

It’s a long time before I respond, and what I say is so uncharacteristically honest, I’m surprised I even hit the send button.

I don’t want to feel things for you.

His reply is immediate.

I’ll try to tone down the charm then.

I sigh and look toward the window, where the sunlight streaks through the blinds and casts thin white lines across the hardwood floor.
I’m serious, Aiden
, I warn him in my head,
if you push me too far, I will hurt you.
My phone vibrates again, and I swing my eyes back to the screen, where another text awaits.

See you tomorrow :)

How is it possible to simultaneously feel so light and so heavy? To want something as much as I don’t want it? To feel two emotions as conflicting as dread and elation at exactly the same time, neither winning out over the other? I let out a long breath and throw my head into my arms, blocking out the light.

Chapter Thirteen

It’s 9:25 p.m., and I’m sitting on my bed, my back pin straight and my hands stiffly pressed to my thighs. Five minutes until Aiden comes, and I’m finding it harder and harder to breathe.

There’s a knock at my window, so soft, but still I nearly jump out of my skin. Aiden’s face is inches from the glass, his knuckles poised to tap again. He smiles when our eyes meet and nods toward the window latch. I hold my breath as I make my way over to open it. He doesn’t come in right away, just stays crouched outside on the roof, the starlight shimmering in his eyes. A warm breeze floats into my room, caressing my skin, which is hypersensitive in Aiden’s presence.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” I whisper back. I step aside to let him in, and he crawls through the window and lands softly on the carpet.

“Dylan’s not asleep yet, so we’ll have to be quiet,” I tell him, looking everywhere but at him.

Aiden laughs. “He’s not going to be asleep for a long while, trust me.” And I know it’s true. He’ll be up playing video games until at least 2:00 a.m.

I glance toward the still open window, already subconsciously planning my escape. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea then….”

“Hey.” Aiden places a hand on my shoulder. “I just got here, and I have no intention of leaving anytime soon.” He moves past me to the bed, takes a seat, and kicks off his shoes. With a sigh, he flops back onto the bed, hands hooked behind his head, and surveys the orange walls.

“Truly, they’re beautiful,” he says, taking in my terrible paint job. “I like how your attitude is in the strokes. Like you just didn’t give a damn.”

“I just wanted the pink gone.”

Aiden laughs and pulls himself into a sitting position. “They were pink?”

I grimace at the memory. “An extraordinarily hideous pink, yes. Thanks to Dylan.”

Aiden laughs even harder, and I have to shush him because someone might hear us. When he’s calmed down, he remarks, “Such an endearing fellow, isn’t he?”

“A pain in my ass,” I murmur.

We’re silent for a moment, and I’m still avoiding Aiden’s eyes, though I know his never leave my face.

“You can sit down, you know,” he says as he lightly pats the bed beside him. “I won’t bite.” He doesn’t even have to voice,
Unless you want me to.
Heat pulses through me at those unspoken words, and I full-on blush. My entire face, even my neck and arms go red—the curse of the pale skinned. I meet his eyes briefly. He’s not even trying to hold back his smile, and worse, he’s barely holding in his laughter. I flap my arms to shush him before it bursts free.

“C’mon,” he says, waving me over. “Let’s talk about stuff.”

Skeptically, I take a seat beside him and stare straight ahead.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Aiden says with a gentle voice as he moves my hair off my shoulder. I close my eyes, reluctantly relishing his touch.

“That I don’t like not being in control,” I answer. I don’t say of what, but I think it’s implied that it’s my feelings.

“It scares you,” Aiden says. His thumb calmly rubs the skin of my shoulder, soothing me. I take a deep, shaky breath.

“I don’t know what I’m going to feel next. And, yeah, that scares the hell out of me.”

Aiden nods. “What do you feel right now?”

I slide my narrowed eyes to his. “Like I’m in a freaking therapy session.”

Aiden laughs, but I go on. “I feel…strange. I don’t know. I feel like I’m terrified and happy and depressed and alone and cared about. I feel it all at once, and it’s all so conflicting that I can’t think straight.” I squint off into space. Aiden’s thumb still rubs my shoulder, and his other hand rises to do the same on my arm. It relaxes me. I don’t know how he knows to do it, but it works, and I feel my breaths start to come more steadily.

What is he, an expert on human touch or something? The possible innuendos in that thought just turn me red again. How did I ever think I could use him to make me feel numb?

“What?” he asks with a wary smile, breaking my thoughts. “The only time you ever blush is when you’re having dirty thoughts about me.”

I scoff at him. “Conceited much?” Motioning between the two of us, I say, “That’s exactly why I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Because I drive you wild? I churn your emotions into an uncontrollable whirlwind?” He softly takes my chin and makes me meet his playful eyes. “Because you’re like butter and I’m a hot knife?”

I raise my brows. “Fiona Apple. Good song.”

“See,” Aiden says, his voice more like a plea. “Why don’t we ever talk about music? You work in a vinyl store. I’m a musician. We have loads in common.”

“Okay, fine,” I say. “Who are your top three artists?”

Aiden cringes and sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You’re making me choose
only three
?” he says, his voice growing exponentially louder at the end. I drill my gaze into his and then the door. He gets the hint and lowers his voice as he settles back further in the bed, pulling me down next to him so that we’re lying side by side, staring up at the ceiling, our heads just short of the pillows.

“Okay, let’s see,” he says and follows it up with a contemplative hum. “God, this is hard. Okay, it’s got to be…No…Hmm…”

“Fine,” I say, laughing. “You can do your top five, how about that?”

“Only if you return the favor.”

“Of course.”

“You already know your top five, don’t you?”

“Sure.” I shrug.

“Then you go first,” he says, buying himself some time.

With I sigh, I count them out on my fingers. “The Twilight Singers, The National, Modest Mouse, Brand New, The Veils.”

Aiden lets out a whistle. “Indie and Alternative rock,” he observes. “Fantastic choices.” I let my head fall to the side to get a look at him.