Loving You Differently

Thirty Seven

Aria Adkins

The sound of the front door swinging open alerts me to the fact that Austin is back. I sit up from where I was lying in bed throwing myself a pity party. Perched on the edge of the bed, I rub a hand across my forehead, the soft fabric of Austin's sweatshirt that hangs past my fingertips caressing my skin.

I stand up and pad over to my bedroom door, opening it and leaning against the door jamb, arms folded protectively around my midsection. From this angle I can see Mom stomping into the dark house with Austin trailing behind her. I make eye contact with her as she passes me in the hall, and I'm sure her splotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes match my own. I flinch when she slams her bedroom door closed.

Austin walks towards me, one hand in his pocket and the other hanging at his side. A manila folder dangles from his fingers. I turn and step into my room, Austin silently following. When the door closes behind him, I lean against it and watch as he drops to the edge of my bed with a sigh.

Silence ticks between us, our eyes locked on each other. I softly clear my throat and dip my chin towards the folder in his hand. "What's in it?"

He smirks bitterly and plops it on the bed beside him. "Your reprieve."

My arms, still folded across my abdomen, clench the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"It's done? She signed them?" I croak.

Austin sighs again and shakes his head, his gaze skirting to the floor. "She didn't want to, but yeah, she signed them."

"How..."

"Aria," Austin cuts me off, his voice straining. "Come here."

My heart gallops and I freeze. Austin senses my hesitation and rubs at his eyes tiredly. "Please, baby," He says quietly. "Just let me hold you. I need to hold you."

My throat burns and, vision blurry, I stumble his way. And, of course, Austin catches me. He pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me, one palm clutched gently at the base of my neck and the other grasping the base of my spine.

"You knew," I whisper into his neck, a little unsure of whether or not it comes out as a question or a statement. "How did you know?"

He dips his head down, his stubble grazing my cheek as his lips find my ear. Quietly, hesitantly, he says, "Six months ago, I was leaving from a meeting with the owner of Vice. The meeting ran late, I didn't end up exiting the building until around the time the doors opened for the night. A little ways down the block, there was a woman crying. Howling. Cursing. And then there was you. You were trying to get her into a taxi, ignoring her while she spewed hateful shit at you amongst some drunken nonsense."

Austin pauses and tilts his head back, meeting my eyes and what I'm sure is a shocked, horrified look on my face. His jaw clenches as he continues, "Three months ago you walked into the bar that I was now running, and the sight of you almost knocked me on my ass. You had that same look on your face like the night I watched you handle Maeve."

I pull back, my body tense and insecurities slamming into me at full force. "So you hired me out of pity. You saw the girl with the alcoholic mother and wanted to help her out, get close to her so you could.. what? Restore your hero complex?"