Looking to Lose (completed)

*27*

Ever the all-American mother, my mom is waiting at the arrival terminal for me when I land. She hugs me tight and fierce, but there are no tears. Afterall, I've spent the past two years living on my own at college – it's not like we've never been apart. Still, I relax into her hug, happy to feel the comfort of a mother's embrace; it eases the slightest bit of my nerves.

"Happy birthday!" She exclaims after she pulls away, immediately pulling me in for another hug and I laugh.

"You're so tan," she comments after our second embrace, her hand patting my cheek. I scoff at the remark, but I guess she's right; compared to my naturally pasty tone, I am brandishing a bronzy hue atypical for me.

She drills me with questions as we make our way to the car, the first of which pertaining to my lost phone. I had texted her on Mila's phone to tell her I lost mine but didn't give any more details. Now I realized that admitting I was completely wasted on a fast-moving yacht in the middle of the night in a foreign country maybe won't go over well, so I say that I forgot it in my pocket when we went kayaking and when I capsized, it must have fallen out and sunk to the ocean floor. Surprisingly, she's not angry, but that's likely because I promised to pay for a new one myself with my Books & Co. earnings.

"Ready to get home?" She asks as she pulls the car into rush-hour traffic.

"Actually, I was hoping you could drop me off at Books & Co," I say, attempting to sound casual.

"Honey, you don't need to earn the money for your new phone today," she laughs. "Plus, they close in an hour. I'm sure Aaron's got it covered."

"I know," I swallow thickly. "That's why I want to go."

"Oh," my mom says in confusion. A pause and then "ohhhhhhh," she says with complete understanding. "Well then, grab a new shirt out of your carry-on – yours is all wrinkled."

"Mom –" I complain.

"Oh, and brush your hair. And don't forget perfume!"

"Mom!" I chide her, my cheeks flushing red. And yet, I do as she says running a brush through my long hair and spritzing some of my lavender perfume on my neck. I slouch in the passenger seat and slip out of my cotton tee, putting on a new blouse Mila forced along with me as a birthday gift.

My mom gazes at me approvingly out of her periphery. "Better," she says with a smile.

My heart begins to pound as the skyline comes into view, and suddenly I'm praying for more traffic, or an extreme storm that halts us in our tracks, or an act of God – anything that prevents me from arriving at Books & Co, from seeing Aaron, in mere minutes.

"Calm down honey," my mom says. "He likes you."

My heart twists painfully. He may have liked me before, but his feelings run so hot and cold, I have no idea what he feels now. It's hard to believe that only a week ago he was kissing me on my porch swing, and now I have no clue whether or not he hates me for real this time. Raph managed to convince me of the possibility that Aaron has feelings for me but based off our correspondence this past week (pre-dropping-phone-in-ocean), those feelings have run dry.

And let's say that he does like me. Would that be enough for me? I basically admitted to Raph last night that I a-little-more-than-like Aaron. What if Aaron likes me enough to kiss me, but not enough to date me?

My internal rant blinded me to the fact that my mother is now cruising down the streets of downtown.

"Uh, mom, I change my mind. Let's go home. Turn around. Now," I demand frantically, as we pull onto the block.

"Oh no, you're doing this," she says with a sly smile, the crazed romantic in her undoubtedly feeding off this drama.

The car slows to a stop at the curb. The golden light of the setting sun shines so bright on the front windows of the shop that I can't see inside, can't see if Aaron's there. All I can see is a reflection of myself sitting in the front seat, staring at my own crazed and slightly sick looking expression.

My mom unlocks the doors with a click and nudges me on the shoulder. As if moving through molasses, I unbuckle my seat belt, slowly push open the door and slide out of the car, until my sandaled feet are firmly on the sidewalk.

"If things go well, there's cake waiting at home," my mom says through the open window. "I'm sure we have enough for one more." With a wink she drives off, leaving me staring at my reflection in the panes of glass of the bookshop where it all started.

The bell over my head chimes as I push through the door, the familiar scent of yellowed pages and freshly ground coffee washing over me, comforting and calming. I take a deep breath, my eyes closed.

"Isa?" says a rough, cold voice that has become all too familiar to me. I open my eyes and see Aaron standing behind the counter, a dripping rag in one hand and a confused expression on his face.

"Hey," is all I can manage to say.

I forgot how beautiful he is. His curly hair is sticking out in all directions, indicating a busy day's work. He's tanner, I think, and it makes his hazel eyes all the more enchanting. I take a few steps closer, and see a cold wall slide up behind his eyes. My heart breaks a little, thinking about how I managed to get that wall down before, how I would do anything for him to open up to me again, to trust me again.

"Why did you hang up on me?" He asks coldly.

"I dropped my phone in the ocean," I admit.

At that I think I see his lip twitch ever so slightly, like it's begging to smile but his brain won't let him. Instead, he just nods and continues to wipe down the counter, not looking at me.

"Why did you come here?" He asks, staring at the bar top with intense focus.

"I know why you're mad," I say as an answer.

"For the last time Isa, I'm not mad," he sighs and looks up at me.

I take a deep breath and take the plunge, praying to God - or anyone who will listen - that Raph was right.

"You're mad because you like me," I blurt out. His face pales and he narrows his eyes. "You didn't want me hooking up with anyone else, so you acted like a crazy person."

"I did not –" he begins to say but I cut him off.

"But I acted crazy too," I admit, stepping closer until my stomach is pressed against the counter and we're just inches apart. "So that must mean that I like you. Maybe more than like," I finish.

For a second he just stares at me, his mouth slightly open, completely taken by surprise. My heart is hammering in my chest so loud I swear he can hear it, and my vision is getting blurry from the adrenaline coursing through my body.

But then I see it, I swear I see it. I see the wall slide down slowly, and the Aaron hiding under that cold exterior surfaces in all his glory. Before I can sigh in relief, his hands are cupping my face and my lips are pressed against his and everything else melts away and I'm home.

He pulls his face away slightly, shaking his head with a sly smile. "You drive me crazy, Isa."

"I know the feeling," I reply before pulling his lips down to mine again, crashing against him with a passion that has been building in me since I first heard his rough voice, since the first time I saw him shirtless, since his hand on my thigh at the old manor. He tugs on my hand and I take his cue, hopping onto the bar top so my legs are straddled around him. I press myself closer to him, consumed by him, until I'm breathless.

I pull away, taking deep gulps of air, enamored by the rosy blush that has risen to his cheeks.

His hands find their way to my thighs and I clench my stomach, trying to push down the overwhelming urge to do more than just kiss him.

He leans in slowly this time, his hands sliding up my legs simultaneously, and kisses me softly, slowly, maddeningly.

"Please tell me you're still...." he mutters pleadingly.

I smile slyly against his lips. Never have I been so happy to say these four words: "I'm still a virgin."

But not for long.