ARIA’S POV
I knock on Xander’s door and he throws it open instantly. Xander takes one look at me standing in his doorway, tears streaming down my face, and immediately pulls me inside.
“Hey, hey,” he says softly, closing the door behind me. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
I try to answer, but all that comes out is a sob. He wraps his arms around me, and I bury my face against his chest, letting myself fall apart completely.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his hand stroking my hair. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
We stand there for a few minutes while I cry. He doesn’t try to rush me or ask questions. He just holds me and lets me get it all out.
When I finally calm down enough to speak, I pull back and look at him.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you came here.” He studies my face with concern. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
“Miles showed up at my house.”
His expression darkens immediately. “What did he want?”
“To apologize. To ask for another chance.”
“Are you kidding me? After what he did to you?”
“That’s what I said. But apparently I’m the only one who thinks cheating is unforgivable.”
“What do you mean?”
I sink down onto his couch, suddenly exhausted. “My mom thinks I should take him back.”
“She what?”
“She thinks I should forgive him. She says men have needs, and sometimes they make mistakes when those needs aren’t being met.”
Xander sits down beside me, his jaw clenched. “She actually said that?”
“She said I don’t understand how relationships work because I’m young. She said Miles is from a good family and I shouldn’t throw that away over one mistake.”
“One mistake,” he repeats, his voice flat.
“That’s what she called it. A mistake.”
“It wasn’t a mistake, Ari. It was a choice. A series of choices.”
“I know that. But she doesn’t see it that way. She thinks I’m being dramatic.”
“You’re not being dramatic. You’re being smart.”
I look at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice.
“You really think so?”
“I know so. What he did to you was unforgivable. The cheating was bad enough, but what he said to you? The way he made you feel about yourself? That’s not something you just get over.”
“My mom thinks I should because I might not find anyone else who wants me.”
The words hang in the air between us, and I immediately regret saying them out loud. They sound even worse when I hear them.
“She said that to you?”
“She said I’m not exactly beating boys off with a stick. That I should appreciate what I have.”
“Your mother is wrong.”
“Is she though? I mean, look at me. I’m not exactly a catch.”
“Stop.” His voice is sharp. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down like that. You’re amazing, Ari. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”
He reaches over and takes my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
“Miles is an idiot for cheating on you. Your mother is wrong for telling you to take him back. And you’re incredible for having the strength to walk away from both of them.”
“I don’t feel incredible. I feel like a mess.”
“You’re not a mess. You’re hurt, and that’s understandable. But you’re not a mess.”
I look down at our joined hands. “I don’t know what to do now.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to forget about all of it. I want to forget about Miles and my mom and everyone who thinks I should settle for being treated like garbage.”
“Then forget about them.”
“How?”
“Focus on something else. Focus on yourself. Focus on what you want, not what other people think you should want.”
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.”
The way he says it, so certain and confident, makes something warm bloom in my chest.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For what?”
“For being here. For listening. For not making me feel crazy for being upset.”
“You’re not crazy. You’re completely justified in everything you’re feeling.”
“I’m sorry I showed up here crying. This probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your evening.”
“Are you kidding? This is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening.”
“Dealing with my drama?”
“Being with you.”
The simple honesty in his voice makes my heart skip a beat.
“Xander…”
“What?”
“Earlier today, when you acted like you didn’t know me at school…”
“I was being an idiot. I told you that.”
“Were you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I prepare myself for the worst.
“I was scared,” he says finally.
“Of what?”
“Of what people would say. Of what my friends would think. Of how it might affect you.”
“Affect me how?”
“You have a good reputation at school. You’re smart, you get good grades, teachers like you. I didn’t want to mess that up for you.”
“By being seen with you?”
“By being seen with me. I’m not exactly known for my stellar reputation.”
“Maybe I don’t care about my reputation.”
“You should. It matters.”
“Not to me. Not anymore.”
He looks at me like he’s trying to figure out if I mean it.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I spent six months with Miles, worried about what everyone would think, trying to be the perfect girlfriend. And where did it get me? He still cheated on me. He still made me feel worthless.”
“Ari…”
“I’m tired of trying to be perfect for other people. I’m tired of caring what everyone thinks. I want to do what makes me happy for once.”
“What makes you happy?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility.
“Being here with you,” I say honestly. “Being somewhere I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I know. That’s why I like being here.”
He moves closer to me on the couch, his hand still holding mine.
He reaches up and touches my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize was still there.
“You deserve everything good,” he says quietly.
“So do you.”
We look at each other for a long moment, and I can feel the tension building between us. The same tension that was there last night before his friends interrupted us.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks.
“Yes.”
This time, when he kisses me, it’s different. There’s more urgency to it, more need. Like we’re both trying to forget everything that’s happened and focus only on this moment.
I kiss him back just as desperately, my hands fisting in his shirt. When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks.
“I’m sure.”
He kisses me again, and this time neither of us pulls away. We lose ourselves in each other, in the feeling of being wanted and needed and chosen.
When he stands up and takes my hand, leading me toward his bedroom, I don’t hesitate. I follow him, ready to leave everything else behind and focus on what I want.
And what I want is him.
30
