Since 2004

seven

        I spend the majority of the rest of the night typing out an apology text to Aidan. But I just can't bring myself to send it and I sort of hate myself for that.

I set my phone down on my desk in frustration and stand up. As much as Aidan gets under my skin I have some common sense and I know that I took it a little too far tonight. He easily could have left me on the side of the road but he came and picked me up and I was still a piece of shit to him.

I heave a sigh and look out the window. For the first time in a few days, Aiden's curtains are open in the house next door. Just as I'm noticing that, his bedroom door opens and he walks in. I freeze when I notice his shirt is off.

My jaw almost drops to the floor. When I imagine fake scenarios at night to fall asleep and imagine that the guy's abs look good, this is what I mean. Even from my room I can see how picture perfect they are. Jesus Christ.

He has a towel wrapped around his waist and I assume his hair is probably wet, not that there's very much of it. He definitely just got out of the shower.

He looks right at me.

Fuck! I'm tempted to open my window and do a fucking acrobatic turn off the side and to my death.

I look away as quickly as possible, busying myself with something that is not actually there. I look back up a minute later and there is a piece of paper taped to Aiden's window. My heart drops as I read it.

"I know you're not actually doing anything, Santiago," it reads.

Holy shit how did he see that? His window is literally lower than mine. I mutter a few choice words.

Aiden reappears at the window and shoots me a smirk before taking the paper off the window, balling it up, and tossing it into the trash can.

In a hurry, I run to my backpack and rip a piece of paper out of one of my notebooks. I scribble out a note and smack it against the window. Aiden's eyes flit up to read it.

Now's a better time than ever to say sorry for tonight. I can't back down and not say anything now. "I'm sorry for everything I said tonight. I'm a bitch," I wrote.

Aiden's response comes quickly. "Self awareness is important ;)" it reads.

I flip him a finger and I can see him laughing.
He writes something else.

"Thank you," it says.

I just nod and smile and Aiden's curtains close.

***

My alarm goes off at the ass crack of dawn on Thursday morning and I snooze it three times. By the time I finally get up, I need to be out of the house in 30 minutes to make sure Aidan doesn't drive off without me. My car needs to hurry up and get fixed.

I jump out of bad and into the bathroom. My hair looks a fucking mess. In frustration, I throw it into a braid and pull out a few pieces. Once back in my room, I pull on a full length red tank top and dark gray sweatpants. I was originally planning on jeans and a cute top but I don't think I want to bother with the commitment of wearing jeans right now.

I throw my computer in my backpack and head downstairs once I've put on jewelry and perfume. I have five minutes to spare.

My mom is on the phone with someone when I gets down there. She looks up at me briefly.

"No, John. She's not going over there this weekend," my mom snaps into the phone.

My dad. I freeze. He hasn't called us in months.