ARIA’S POV
I stand outside Xander’s apartment building, my heart pounding as I press the buzzer for his unit but there is no answer.
I try again, holding the button longer this time.
Still nothing.
I pull out my phone and call him, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Damn it,” I mutter.
I’m about to give up and leave when I hear the screech of tires. Xander’s car pulls into the parking lot, and I can see him through the windshield.
He looks terrible. His hair is messy, his shirt is wrinkled, and when he gets out of the car, I can see that his lip is bleeding.
“Aria?” he says, like he can’t believe I’m actually here.
He rushes over to me, and before I can say anything, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.
“You came,” he says into my hair. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
I pull back to look at his face. “What happened to you? Where did you get hurt?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. You’re bleeding.”
He touches his split lip and winces. “It’s not that bad.”
“Xander, tell me what happened.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then sighs. “Caleb was the one who took the picture from my phone and posted it.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“He somehow got into my phone and found the picture. Then he shared it with everyone.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I just came from his place.”
“So you went to confront him?”
“Yes. What did you expect me to do? Sit still while he ruined your life?”
I stare at him, trying to process this information. “He really did it? It wasn’t you?”
“It was never me. I would never hurt you like that.”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by guilt. “I’m so sorry. I thought—”
“I know what you thought. And I don’t blame you for thinking it.”
“We should get you inside,” I say, noticing how he’s favoring his left side. “You need to clean up that cut.”
He nods and leads me up to his apartment. Once we’re inside, I guide him to the bathroom.
“Sit,” I tell him, pointing to the edge of the bathtub.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding.”
I rummage through his medicine cabinet until I find some antiseptic and cotton swabs.
“This might sting a little,” I warn him as I dab at the cut on his lip.
He doesn’t flinch, just watches my face as I work.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I should have protected that picture better. I should have made sure no one could get to it.”
“How were you supposed to know Caleb would steal it?”
“I should have known what kind of person he was.”
I finish cleaning the cut and put the antiseptic away. “There. That should heal fine.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do. For everything. For coming here, for believing me, for giving me a chance to explain.”
I sit down beside him on the edge of the tub. “I almost didn’t come.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Your text. You said you could prove it wasn’t you.”
“And I did, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. You did.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment.
“Actually,” he says, and I can see a hint of pride in his expression, “the picture has already been deleted.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How?”
He smirks. “I threatened to post his nudes too if he doesn’t delete it.”
I gasp and hit his shoulder. “You didn’t!”
He laughs. “I did. Amazing how quickly he found a way to take it down when his own reputation was on the line.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Is it? He humiliated you in front of the entire school. Turnabout is fair play.”
“You could get in trouble for that.”
“I don’t care. No one messes with you and gets away with it.”
Something warm spreads through my chest at his words.
“You really fought him over me?”
“Of course I did.”
“I’m so sorry you went through that. I’m sorry everyone saw something that was meant to be private.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like my fault.”
“Well, it’s not.”
He reaches up and touches my face gently. “You think I’d share a photo of you looking that good? I’d break anyone who touched it.”
The possessiveness in his voice sends a thrill through me.
“Xander…”
“What?”
Before I can lose my nerve, I lean in and kiss him.
This kiss is different from any we’ve shared before. It’s rough, desperate, full of all the anger and hurt and relief we’ve both been feeling.
He kisses me back just as desperately, his hands tangling in my hair.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“I missed you,” he says.
“I missed you too.”
“I thought I’d lost you.”
My heart pounded at the statement and he kisses me again, softer this time, and I feel something inside me settle into place.
“I want to finish it,” I say against his lips.
“Finish what?”
“The list. Every last item. With you.”
His eyes darken. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I want to do everything on that list, and I want to do it all with you.”
“All thirteen things?”
“All thirteen things.”
“Even the ones that scare you?”
“Especially the ones that scare me.”
He looks at me for a long moment, like he’s trying to make sure I really mean it.
“Okay,” he says finally. “But we do this right. No rushing, no pressure. We take our time with each one.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“And if you change your mind about anything—”
“I won’t.”
“But if you do—”
“Then I’ll tell you. I promise.”
He smiles, and I can see the cut on his lip pull slightly.
“In that case,” he says, standing up and offering me his hand, “let’s get started.”
30
