Page 97 of When in December

“What if I wanted to?” he asked.

I stood still.

“Haven’t thought about that, have you?”

I shook my head, still not quite understanding how we’d gotten here. One minute, we had been at the party, and now, even Oz had skittered away to a cozy spot near the fireplace and out of this strange exchange.

“No,” I said. “You don’t have to say anything or lie. I get it. You haven’t cared about what I’m trying to do here. You haven’t even wanted me here at all for that matter.”

“Since when, Poppy?”

“It wasn’t a mistake. I won’t say that about it. The kiss. And I’m sorry. I know you don’t even like me, especially not like that. So, I’ve been trying to keep my distance and be respectful andprofessional.”

God, he was making me start to hate that word.

“Yet I’ve been failing,” I admitted, putting a hand on my forehead. “Clearly.”

“You really think that I don’t like you? Care about you? Damn, Poppy.” Aaron ran a hand through his short hair, which was starting to puff out on the sides.

“You’re giving me whiplash here, Aaron. I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to say to make this better, and everything is almost over. Either let me do my job or …”

Or?

I didn’t even know anymore.

I let my hands fall to my sides in defeat.

“You don’t get it,” said Aaron gruffly.

“Get what?”

He nodded. Once. Twice.

“Fine then. Here.” He shrugged as if what he was going to say was simple. “For the past few weeks, you’ve been digging under my skin. Trying to find all my buttons. But then I started to watch you work, and I saw your passion for what you do, and I talked to you?—”

“Whoa, don’t sound so pleased about spending time with me.”

He put up a hand to stop me. “I tried not to like you, Poppy, but sometimes, I can’t help myself. It’s like you’re constantly sitting in the back of my brain. When I’m not thinking of anything else, I’m thinking of you. You’re always there, in the corner of my mind. Your face. Your smile. The way you laugh before covering your mouth with your hands, like you think no one wants to see your teeth. I think about you all the time, whether you’re standing right in front of me or late at night, when my mind won’t turn off and I’m in bed. Then, I’m only with you.”

I stared at him.

“So, when I found out tonight that this wasn’t the first time we’d met, that we had known each other from over a decade ago, it dawned on me. That the girl with the hesitant laugh and concern always written on her face … and the lips that had tasted like strawberries that night I was at a party, wasted off my ass and cursing the world … it was you.”

He knew.

“How did you?—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

I took a deep breath. “It was clear that you didn’t remember. I couldn’t think, what was the point to tell you? Especially after a while. I mean, I’m a different person than I was back then anyway. So are you.”

“Even without knowing the reason, I wanted to be angry that you hadn’t said something. Poppy Owens, the girl with the crush on me that I’d barely even met once until the night before I left,” said Aaron. “But I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?”

Aaron slowly shook his head back and forth. “I was alone for most of the night, you know. My sister was supposed to bewatching me, but I snuck out of the apartment. My parents had been in an accident a few nights before. They died, and my entire family was up in arms, trying to figure out what they were going to do about me. I couldn’t stand being in that house anymore, so I left. I wanted to go to the party. So, I did. I went to the party and got a little drunk, and yet I still felt so damn awful that I crashed on a pile of coats in the guest room. Then, you walked in.”

I looked at him.

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