ARIA’S POV
It’s almost midnight when my phone rings. I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything that’s happened over the past few days.
“Hey,” I whisper into the phone, not wanting to wake my parents.
“Hey yourself,” Xander’s voice comes through, warm and sleepy. “Did I wake you?”
“No, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
“What are you doing up so late?”
“Thinking about you.”
My heart does that fluttering thing it always does when he says stuff like that.
“What about me?”
“Just… everything. How you looked today when you came to find me. How brave you were to give me another chance.”
“I wasn’t brave. I was scared.”
“That’s what made it brave.”
We talk for the next hour about everything and nothing. He tells me about his photography, about how he wants to go to art school someday. I tell him about my writing, about the stories I’ve been working on but never shown anyone.
“I’d like to read them sometime,” he says.
“They’re not very good.”
“I doubt that.”
“They’re just silly romantic stories.”
“Those are the best kind.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Real life needs more romance.”
“Is that what you’re trying to give me? Romance?”
“Among other things.”
The way he says it makes my stomach flutter.
“What kind of other things?”
“The kind of things on your list.”
“Xander…”
“What would you do if I suddenly appeared in front of you right now?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what would you do if I was suddenly there, in your room, instead of just a voice on the phone?”
“I… I don’t know. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“That’s a weird thing to be curious about.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what would you do?”
“I guess I’d be surprised.”
“Good surprised or bad surprised?”
“Good surprised. Definitely good surprised.”
“Even if your parents might catch us?”
“They’re heavy sleepers.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if I was there?”
“No, I wouldn’t mind. But you’re not here, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look out your window.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“Look down at the street. Out your window.”
I sit up in bed, my pulse racing. “Xander, what are you talking about?”
“Just do it.”
I get out of bed and walk to my window, phone still pressed to my ear. I pull back the curtain and look down at the street below.
There’s a car parked under the streetlight. Xander’s car.
And there’s a figure sitting in the driver’s seat with a phone to his ear.
I squeal so loudly I have to clap my hand over my mouth.
“Oh my god,” I whisper into the phone. “Are you really down there?”
“Wave at me.”
I wave, and the figure in the car waves back.
“You’re crazy,” I tell him.
“Crazy about you.”
“How long have you been sitting there?”
“About ten minutes. I was working up the courage to call you.”
“You drove all the way over here just to sit in your car?”
“I drove all the way over here to see you.”
“My parents will kill me if they find out you’re here.”
“Then we’ll make sure they don’t find out.”
“How?”
“I’m coming up.”
“What? No, you can’t—”
But the line goes dead. I look out the window and see him getting out of his car.
He walks around to the side of the house where my window is. My room is on the second floor, but there’s a big oak tree right outside with branches that come pretty close to my window.
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper, but I’m opening the window as I say it.
He’s already climbing. I can see him moving through the branches, and my heart is pounding so hard I think it might explode.
“Be careful,” I whisper loudly.
“I’ve done this before,” he whispers back.
“You have?”
“No, but how hard can it be?”
He makes it to the branch closest to my window and carefully steps across onto my windowsill.
“Holy shit,” he says, looking down.
“Don’t look down.”
“Too late.”
I grab his hands and help pull him through the window. We both tumble onto my bedroom floor in a heap.
“That was terrifying,” he says.
“That was stupid,” I tell him, but I’m grinning.
“That was romantic.”
“That was crazy.”
“Same thing.”
We’re lying on my floor, tangled up together, and I can’t stop smiling.
“I can’t believe you just climbed through my window.”
“I can’t believe you let me.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Believe it.”
He helps me up and we sit on my bed, both of us trying to catch our breath.
“So what now?” I ask.
“Now we work on your list.”
“Which item?”
“Sleep in the arms of a man in my room.”
I look at him in surprise. “That’s on my list?”
“Number twelve.”
“I don’t remember writing that.”
“You did. Right after ‘get caught doing it’ and right before ‘having sex in public.'”
“You memorized my list?”
“I memorized everything about that day.”
I laugh softly, mindful of my sleeping parents down the hall.
“So,” he says, lying back on my bed and patting the space beside him. “Want to cross another item off your list?”
I look at him lying there in my bed, in my room, and I can’t believe this is really happening.
“What if my parents wake up?”
“They won’t.”
“What if they do?”
“Then I’ll climb back out the window.”
I lie down beside him, and he immediately wraps his arms around me.
“This is nice,” I say, settling against his chest.
“Just nice?”
“Amazing.”
“Better.”
“Tell me something,” I say.
“What?”
“Anything. I want to hear your voice.”
So he talks. He tells me about his family, about his dreams, about the places he wants to travel someday. He tells me about the first time he noticed me at school, sitting alone in the library reading.
“You looked so peaceful,” he says. “Like nothing in the world could touch you.”
“I was hiding.”
“From what?”
“From everyone. From being noticed.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“Good. Because I want to show you off to the world.”
“Even at school?”
“Especially at school.”
We talk until our voices get drowsy, until his words start to blur together. I feel myself drifting off to sleep in his arms, safe and warm and happier than I’ve ever been.
Just before I fall asleep completely, I hear him whisper, “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”
And for the first time in my life, I believe that I really am.
30
