Page 18 of The Expiration Date

It is pouring.

Hard.

The day after the premiere, Aidan and I go on another pseudo date, which consists of walking around Midtown, ice cream cones in hand and talking about the new movie he’s working on and how physically demanding the role is. It is amazing how attuned I feel to the cameras clicking and phones held up facing our general direction. But even with all of the distraction, I feel more attuned to Aidan. Talking with him has always been easy, but everything has always been about business. Now, it’s like we’re gathering pieces of each other and putting together the full puzzle that makes up our lives.

As we cross the street to enter Central Park, we both feel droplets fall from the eerie gray sky that has gradually become darker since this morning.

“We should be fine,” Aidan assures me. “We are really close to my apartment in case the sky opens.”

And boy does it. Aidan breaks out into a full-on sprint and drags me along with him. We finally make it to his apartment building. We jet past Aidan’s sweet doorman, who greets Aidan with a welcoming smile and tips his hat toward me. I give a small wave and smile back, then step into the elevator after Aidan. As Aidan presses the button to his floor, which is outrageously high, I can’t help but wonder how many women have followed Aidan up this elevator and greeted his doorman in a similar fashion.

Chills run up and down my body as a result of the rain, but also because I am about to enter Aidan Stone’s apartment. This is entering very personal territory. This was never part of the plan. This is why I opted to stay in my own hotel. To avoid situations like this.

I am soaking wet from the deluge outside. Great. The only available piece of clothing I always carry in my belt bag for emergencies is a pair of underwear. And not the sexy kind either. Like boy-shorts underwear. At least they look like shorts. It could be worse. It could be a thong.

We finally reach Aidan’s floor. As we walk down the hallway toward his apartment, I say, “Seriously, Aidan. I can go back to my hotel. I think that might be better. I don’t have any extra clothes here and I am drenched.”

He chuckles. “I do have a washing machine, you know. And towels. Plus, I have something for you to borrow in the meantime. I don’t want you to go out in this storm. I already told Raul to go home for the night, so you don’t have anyone to drive you. Your hotel is close, but it’s not that close to walk out in this storm.”

Aidan finally unlocks his door, turns the knob and pushes the door open. The security system starts to beep and he puts in his code discreetly. I lower my eyes so as not to see the numbers, rubbing the sides of my arms to generate some sort of heat.

“Oh wait,” Aidan says. “Why am I hiding this from you? You need to know this information just in case I’m not with you.”

“There’s no need, Aidan,” I say, trying to contain the water that is dripping from my hair into my just as soaked, if not more, shirt. “I don’t think I’ll ever come here without you.”

“You never know. Anyway, it will be easy to remember.”

“Well it’s not smart to have something easily remembered as your code. My dad, who worked in IT for years I might add, would be so disappointed in you.”

“Haha smartass. I meant that it will be easy for you to remember. Ready?”

“Fine. Tell me.” I pull out my phone and open the Notes app. A common practice at this point in our relationship.

Aidan suddenly looks away from me to the ground, as if he is afraid to look me in the eye. He clears his throat. “It’s 012991.”

My breath catches as I process what I just heard. I examine his pink face, and then he looks back at me and now it’s my turn to avert my eyes. I click the side of my phone and clear my throat. “Yeah, you’re right. That will be easy for me to remember.” Thank God Aidan hasn’t turned on his lights yet, because no doubt my cheeks are bright red. Why would he have that day as his code?

Aidan smirks a little, gestures for me to step into his apartment and finally turns on the light.

My jaw drops. Massive windows in his living room reveal the stunning city lights. It feels like I am in a fishbowl, even though I know no one can see me. The rain is still pounding down on the street below. Soon thunder rolls in. Lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating the harsh outer lines of the buildings. I look to my right and see a beautiful chef’s kitchen. Black stainless steel appliances, a very expensive coffee machine, double oven, the works. He has huge couches, probably to accommodate his massive build. Clean, sleek, classic. Just like Aidan.

“Here you go. I know this may be a little big on you but it’s something for you to wear while your clothes are in the wash. And here’s a towel.”

In the time I was admiring Aidan’s apartment, he’s already changed out of his own drenched clothes and dried off. I’ve never seen his hair look this unruly. Boyish. Innocent. Unguarded. It’s kind of cute. Wait, what am I thinking? My cheeks get warm again, and it isn’t because we are in his warm apartment. He holds out a gray shirt to me and I unfold it. A UConn basketball t-shirt. I smile because I know how much of a UConn basketball fan he still is. I take the towel from his other hand and scrunch it into my hair. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Um, if you want to go change, my room is down that small hallway and to the left. There is an ensuite in there, if you want extra privacy.”

“Thanks.” I make my way down the hall and find his room. His bedroom is just as big as his living room. A massive California king bed, perfectly made. I switch on the light to his bathroom and close the door behind me. Glancing in the mirror, I am instantly mortified. My hair is covering most of my face. It’s like I am looking at an image of that scary girl from The Ring. Not cute. Why do I even care if I look cute? My clothes are clinging to my body for dear life. I inch my jeans off my legs and peel my shirt off my torso. I’m just gonna have to wear my soaking bra. I am not going braless in Aidan Stone’s apartment. No way.

I dry off the rest of my body and try my best to dry the heck out of my bra so it won’t soak through the borrowed t-shirt. I replace my wet underwear with the dry boyshort ones from my purse. They look like spandex. Not too bad, considering I wore spandex playing volleyball in high school and that was deemed appropriate. I pull Aidan’s UConn shirt over my head and it falls mid-thigh. I look naked under this oversized shirt. Yep, this is exactly how I want my boss to see me. Almost naked. Wonderful.

I pull out my phone and text Aidan.

Hey do you have any shorts I could borrow?

Almost immediately, I hear the door to the bedroom open. Drawers open from his dresser and he is fumbling around. There is a small knock on the door. “Hales, I’m leaving some basketball shorts out here if you want them.”

“Okay, thank you.” I wait to hear the bedroom door close before I open the bathroom door. I pull his shorts on. But once I let go, they immediately fall to the floor. Perfect. This isn’t going to work. Boyshorts it is.

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