What If Just...

40 Vivian

"Like before, how is it?" wonders Aiden with mock confusion.

"It's not hiding from me," I answer boldly and confidently.

He chuckles, looking into the distance ahead.

"That is, to fall asleep together and wake up together?" the man specifies, turning to face me.

For some reason, it's when he says these words out loud that I realize exactly what I'm asking for.
It sounds so...mature, family-like even.

I'm mentally ready to go back on my request.

"If you don't want to or can't because of work, I'll understand."

"No, no, I can stay tonight," he firmly agrees, "And I want to."

Warmth envelopes me inside, as if I have drunk hot chocolate on a snowy winter day.

It's so nice to know we want the same thing.

I turn to the window and smile like a fool.
Hope Aiden doesn't notice.

It's already quite late, and we take turns getting ready for bed right away upon arrival.

I put on my satin chemise again, making a mental note to not forget to buy some closed pajamas.

While lying in bed, I open a book to take my mind off Titanic.
This time it's turn of The Man Who Laughs.

Aiden appears in the doorway as I almost finish the first chapter.

"Shall we go to my room today?" he offers.

"Why?"

"I have a TV and you can watch Friends there - they will surely distract you better than books," he explains confidently, as if there can be no objections here.

I know Aiden expects me to follow him immediately.

"I'll be right there," I say softly, looking at him.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong?"

How should I put it?

"It's not very comfortable for me to walk around in... practically underwear."

Aiden looks at me quizzically.

"Vivian, you are the most inconsistent girl I know. First you invite me to sleep with you, and then you hesitate to pass by," he looks around, then begins to take off his white T-shirt.

"What are you..." my eyes widen in terror.

"Take it, it will be long enough for you. Slip it over," he throws the T-shirt, and it lands on the bed next to me.

I take it in my hand and direct a reproachful look at the guy.

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," he says, smiling and raising his hands, as if giving up.

I look at myself in the mirror: a black T-shirt would definitely do better. Let's hope nothing will be visible in the dark.

Aiden, as luck would have it, attentively watches my every step and movement when I enter his room, looking up from the phone screen.

I roll my eyes.

"You could at least pretend you're not staring," my reproach is heard.

"I don't see the point in it," he replies, grinning impudently.

I hurry to dive under the blanket to hide from his studying eyes as much as possible.

"You don't like Friends," I say, trying to distract him.