“It’s serious, then.” Adela smirked from the couch as I flitted about the apartment, collecting miscellaneous items I probably wouldn’t need for the trip home.
“He’s already met them,” I reminded her, plucking up a paperback and studying it. I wasn’t sure if it was mine or Adela’s.
“Yeah, but sleeping under their roof?” She tutted. “You might be twenty, but in Brad’s eyes, you’re still his little boyfriend-less, innocent girl.”
“Ew. Don’t refer to my dad by his first name. It’s weird.”
“Calling someone mister who looks that good when he’s pushing fifty just isn’t right. I’m doing you and myself a favor.”
I tossed the paperback down. “First my brother, now my dad?”
She licked her finger, turning the page in her book. “Not my fault your family has good genes.”
A knock on our door had me walking over to hug her, then I pinched her arm for being a brat. “Merry Christmas, turd.”
Her laughter followed me as I left. “I’d check under your pillows when you get home for that!”
On the other side of the door, Aiden’s eyes were curious. “Ignore her,” I said, heaving my duffel over my shoulder and grabbing my purse.
Aiden took it from me. “Merry Christmas, Adela.”
“Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”
I grumbled as we made our way down the steps to where his car was idling by the curb.
After opening my door, he took my bag to the trunk.
I slid inside and clipped on my seat belt, Aiden’s cologne and the clean scent of his car loosening my tense limbs.
“So where exactly will I be sleeping?” he asked once we’d hit the highway, my hand wrapped in his. “In a cupboard beneath the stairs?”
I snorted. “Sure thing, Harry. Except we don’t have stairs. One story.”
He forced a pout. “One day, I’ll get to live out my dream as The Boy Who Lived.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of living, if you ask me.”
That dangerous tilt shifted his lips as he swung a sweeping look over me. “True.”
I was glad when he gave his attention back to the road. Months of dating, of letting him get familiar with every part of my body, still hadn’t hindered his ability to make me blush.
I grabbed his phone to distract myself. Not only from him, but from the fluttering fear and excitement that returning home for the first time since I’d started college erupted.
Scrolling through the mega long playlists, I skirted the heavy metal, RnB, and felt my stomach dip when I found Dashboard Confessional.
Aiden’s hand squeezed mine, and as the guitar intro to “Hands Down” started, he glanced over at me. “No way,” he said. “It feels like it’s been years since I’ve listened to this song.”
“Me too.” It hadn’t been that long, but it sure felt like it. “My brother wasn’t a fan and used to poke fun at me.”
Aiden mock gasped, and I giggled like a fucking sixteen-year-old.
We settled into the song, but when the chorus hit the second time, I almost jumped out of my seat when Aiden belted it out at the top of his lungs.
I doubled over laughing. How someone could look so good when they were doing something they were so terrible at, I didn’t know, but at that moment, I knew I more than adored him. I felt more than a lot of things for him. Things that terrified and revived.
A love that rivaled another.
Dragging my eyes forward, I gave in and joined him for the last leg of the song.
Aiden, sucking in a loud breath, lowered the volume of “Arabella” by the Arctic Monkeys before we turned down my street. “Well, here goes nothing.”
I smacked his arm, smiling. “Shush. You’ve already met them.”
“I love it when you shush me.”
I pointed at the house on the left where my dad’s truck sat in the drive, ignoring the nudge in my gut and that pull from the house sitting across the street.
Digging stubborn claws in, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on my own house, and grinned when I saw the snowman Dad said he’d lost years ago half-lit up and moving side to side in the garden.
The sun had set, and we were welcomed with hugs, claps on Aiden’s back, and a grin from Dad before we ventured inside.
“What happened to the snowman?” I asked, gesturing for Aiden, who was holding our duffels, to follow me down the hall to my room.
“Well, he’d been shoved up against an eave in the attic, so, uh, half the lights were smashed.” Dad scratched the back of his