Page 94 of Instigator

As the night goes on, Aidan grows quiet as the conversation swirls around us. He’s holding himself back more and more. His body is coiled tight with tension, a muscle twitches in his jaw, and his eyes are unfocused, like he’s standing in the middle of a maelstrom and letting it pass him by.

I want to drag him into the conversation, to make him feel like part of the crowd, but he doesn’t seem to want that, and I don’t want to push him. For whatever reason, he’s not comfortable with this. Whether it’s his teammates or their partners or the crowd or me, he’s not his usual self.

He says he’s fine, but I can see it on his face; he’s not having a good time, which is all I wanted for him. Tomorrow night, we’ll stay in and game. Spend some quality time together without all these people crowding us. Maybe that will cheer him up a little.

After a few hours, Hailey yawns, and I’m ready to head home myself. There’s no question of where I’ll be sleeping tonight. I haven’t been home for much more than a shower and change since our date, and until he kicks me out, I have no intention of returning to my empty, depressing house.

Aidan drives the four of us home, and as the elevator reaches the tenth floor, we say good night to Hailey and Ryan. My boyfriend’s hand tightens on mine as the doors slide shut, and then we’re finally, finally alone.

“You doing okay?” he asks as we take the short ride up two more floors. “Not backing out?”

“Not anytime soon.”

He scowls. “You say that now…”

Before I can wonder what that means, we reach his floor, and he tugs me out of the elevator.

Inside his apartment, we toe off our shoes and hang up our coats before heading for his bedroom. Aidan strips off his suit jacket, laying it on the dresser.

“We should talk.”

My heart skitters to a stop. “What’s wrong?”

thirty-six

. . .

Aidan

She doesn’t know. I’ve never said the words out loud.

They’re echoing inside my head, clawing to get out. We can’t go on without having an open, honest conversation.

And that’s fucking terrifying. What if she changes her mind? What if she decides this is a dealbreaker and ends it right here and now?

I don’t want to lose her. But I also can’t keep living on the edge of my seat, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the inevitable day where I’m too weird or stim too much or am just… too much for her.

The idea of telling someone, anyone, is terrifying. I’ve never considered telling even Hailey and Ryan. They probably wouldn’t judge me, but on the off chance they did, that it changes things, I can’t risk it. I love them more than anyone in the world, and I still can’t trust them. Not fully.

Nobody has ever mattered to me as much as Ceci does. Not even my sister. I love Hailey, don’t get me wrong. But I’ve always known that at some point, our paths would divert. She would find a life partner and leave me alone. And I was right; she’s found an excellent partner, and I couldn’t be happier.

Ceci is my best friend on top of being my partner. She knows things about me I’ve never told anyone else. I want to share my truth with her in a way I’ve never experienced before, and I finally feel safe enough to tell her.

But it’s risky. All day long, I’ve been on tenterhooks, anticipating the moment she realizes I’m not normal. Once I’m beside my teammates, it becomes obvious I don’t fit in. That I’ve been faking it, pretending I’m just like everyone else.

But I’m not. I can’t be. Nor do I want to.

“Aidan?” Ceci’s hand lands on my arm. “Are you okay?”

My throat works around a thick swallow, and I try to get the words out, but they’re stuck. They choke me, strangle me, until I can hardly breathe and have to force back the inexplicable urge to cry. Instead, I pace back and forth, running my hands through my hair like that will ground me, anchor me.

It only makes me feel more untethered. Unbalanced.

Her face creases with concern. “Babe, you can talk to me.”

I stumble over to the bed, sitting on the edge. She perches beside me like she’s ready to spring up at any moment. Her hands fold in her lap, clenched together, her anxiety obvious in the way she holds herself back.

“I—” My tongue swells in my mouth, and I fight the reflexive urge to gag. Every breath I take feels like it might be the last one.