Burnt Black

Chapter 1

Aiden Blaise Matthews was standing at my door in all of his lanky, shaggy-haired glory, wearing a large black hoodie that was hardly appropriate for the heat of the cloudless July evening. He stood still, with his fists clenched tight, his eyes searching, and his face solemn as he waited for me to invite him inside. This particular evening I had a frozen pizza in the oven with 15 minutes left on it's timer, and my parents were away at a co-worker's for dinner. I was thankful that that hadn't turned into a family visit with mandatory attendance, because at my age adults only asked about three things: school, my future, and male suitors. One didn't elicit a deeper response than "good." And the other two... well, with any luck, the other two were standing in front of me.

Aiden was my best friend. He had been for as long as I could remember, and to make matters worse I had come to the conclusion that I liked him as more than that. I knew it was normal, of course, to fall for someone you've been close to, but it was hard. I truly believed that the best romantic relationships were built on solid friendships, and I had a firm conviction that one type of love could become another. However, I also had that fear that always accompanied this situation. How could I tell him how I felt if I didn't know he felt the same way? I couldn't stand to destroy our relationship for something so trivial as misread signals or confused feelings. No part of me was brave enough to risk what we had.

But here he was, at my door. He had no invitation, and he had given me no warning, and of course I didn't care. He was my best friend.

"I just thought I'd stop by..." he teased.

"You live across town," I reminded him, and opened the door wide enough for him to enter. "What's wrong, Aiden?"

He didn't answer me. Not properly, at least. He cast a glance back over his shoulder as if to say, 'Can't I just visit my best friend?'

Oh, but I knew him too well. It had taken me one look at his white knuckles and into his strangely coloured eyes to notice that something was bothering him, and I could be delicate, but there was no way he was leaving without telling me what it was. Aiden was pacing through the kitchen, looking wildly for something he could use to distract himself, and consequently me. We usually talked. It was our duty as best friends to discuss every one of our problems, but Aiden was actively avoiding me... Maybe I couldn't be delicate with this.

He dropped down suddenly to peer into the oven. "What's cooking?"

"What are you doing here?" Well. That came out harsher than I intended, and Aiden noticed.

He whipped his head around to look at me, clearly surprised, but his bizarre eyes found mine immediately, and for a moment I forgot my impatience and marvelled at their strange hue. Aiden's eyes were the most curious and magical mix of a familiar brown, and a faintly hidden orange that just didn't make sense. It wasn't obvious. Most of the time, his eyes were dark and soulful, sweeter than chocolate, but when the light hit them just right, or when I stared at them long enough, they seemed to light up in flame. His eyes held the essence of autumn evening campfires, and I found they provided me with great comfort. Perhaps that was why I forgot my frustration during the few seconds I was looking into them.

Aiden stood up and took a few quick steps towards me, and my anger faded further when I found myself looking up at him. He was tall, and although I couldn't make myself afraid of his personality, his physical presence was imposing; especially after I had just snapped at him. "Do you trust me?" He asked. I nodded. "Then just wait," he insisted, and stalked back to the oven to check on my pizza.

It was hard to drop the subject. I was painfully aware of whatever was plaguing Aiden, and as his best friend it was miserable to not be able to help him, but I did as he asked. I waited.