Page 135 of First-Time Caller
“He’s good for you,” Aiden repeats.
“How’d you gather that?” I ask, the ache slowly twisting itself into something fiery hot. “Got everything you need from a twenty-second phone call? Or were you just hoping to shove me off on the first halfway decent guy who called in?”
Aiden’s eyes snap back to mine. “Lucie—”
“Off the show. Out with someone else. Did I do something wrong?” I ask. His weird mood. The conversation that wasn’t meant for me to hear. The way he won’t tell me what he wants. The way he won’t tell me anything. I’ve had to pull and prod and pry for every little bit I get. I try to bite down around the edges of my frustration, but I can’t. I’ve been more honest with Aiden than with anyone in my life, and he can’t return the favor. I thought we were on the same page, but apparently we aren’t even in the same library.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. Frustration flashes behind his eyes. The first sign of honest emotion I’ve gotten out of him tonight. “You said this is what you wanted.”
“When?”
He tosses his hands up. “Since the very start, this is what you said you wanted. Romance and effort and magic. He’s playing a song for you. He brought you flowers.”
“I’d hardly consider Audioslaveromantic, Aiden.”
He gives me a withering look. “Don’t be cute.”
“Then don’t be stupid,” I immediately fire back.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m being pragmatic.” He reaches forward and punches another three buttons on his keyboard. “I’m killing myself over here,” he mumbles under his breath. “Trying to give you what you want and you—”
“You’re giving yourself what you want,” I seethe from between clenched teeth. The urge to curl both of my hands in the front of his shirt and shake him until he understands is all-consuming. “Don’t play stupid. You’re making it easier for you.”
Aiden freezes, half hunched over his programming software. I keep going.
“You are what I want, Aiden. But for some inconceivable reason, you don’t seem to believe me when I say it.”
Aiden blinks at me. “But you said—” He has to take a second to compose himself. “You said you wanted it to be a secret.”
I shake my head. “I never said that.”
“You said you wanted everything to stay exactly the same.”
“I meant seeing you, being with you, talking to you. I meant I didn’t want to talk about what’s going on between us live on the air.”
His face collapses. “You said you wanted fun.”
“You’re the only person I want to have fun with. You’re the only person I want anything with. Maybe this started as fun, but now it’s different. Isn’t it?”
I wait for him to answer. He remains silent. His mouth opens, then snaps shut, then opens again. His forehead collapses in frustration.
“Lucie,” he whispers, my name broken into two stiff syllables. I usually love how he says my name, but right now I don’t like it at all. It’s the start of a sentence I don’t want to hear. “I’m not good for you.”
He says it like a fact, like it’s something he’s known all along. That we were never, ever going to work and I’m the silly girl who believed differently. My stomach rolls and I blink down at my hands.
I’ve been here before. I know this feeling. The sinking realization that my feelings don’t match up. That I’ve felt too much too fast and made assumptions. Misread the situation and projected my own hopes on another person.
But things are different with Aiden. Iknowthey are. I haven’t misread anything.
“Bullshit,” I whisper.
I hear the rustle of fabric as Aiden shifts in his seat. “Lucie, listen—”
I lift my chin and ignore the pressure behind my eyes. “I saidbullshit. What you’re saying is bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t—” he starts again, but I don’t let him finish.
“No,” I snap, cutting him off. My voice is calm despite the rattling in my chest, my words slow and precise. “I think you tell yourself you don’t deserve the things you want so it’s easier for you to manage your expectations. It won’t hurt if you don’t care, right? How many lies have you told, Aiden?”
