Page 160 of Between the Lines

He struggles for a few seconds, and Mom and I both laugh. “Okay, fine. Maybe I know their character names better,” he admits.

“I’ll tell you later,” I say.

It’s just a conversation I’ve been dreading for weeks.

“What about your boyfriend?” Mom asks. “How is he treating you? Is he nice?”

“Yes, tell us more about him,” Dad says. “He hasn’t asked you to sign an NDA, too, has he?”

I run a hand over the back of my neck. “No, not exactly.”

The distance from my bedroom to the large couch in the TV room feels painfully small. There’s no way Aiden isn’t hearing this.

“So? What else?”

“He’s a good guy,” I say, my cheeks burning. “Funny. Has a good job. Works hard. I actually tried surfing thanks to him. But, like I said, it’s still early. We’re not really boyfriend-girlfriend.”

“I see,” Mom says with a knowing nod. “He sounds fantastic. And he’s treating you well?”

“Yes, and you already asked that.”

“It’s worth double-checking,” she says. “We care about you, honey.”

I know they do.

And I know they don’t entirely trust my judgment.To this day.Even though it’s been years and years sinceThe Gamble.

We chat for a few more minutes before I excuse myself and hang up. The silence in my room feels absolute, and I take a deep, calming breath before forcing myself off the bed.

Aiden is standing in the doorway. He’s leaning against one of the jambs, hands in the pockets of his sweats. He takes up all the space in the threshold.

I grimace. “How much of that did you hear?”

His face is carefully neutral. “How much are you comfortable with me having heard?”

“I’m sorry about the boyfriend thing. I had to give them something, but I know we’re not… that we’re…”

He lifts an eyebrow. “That we’re what?”

“You know,” I say and wave between us. “That we’re this.”

“Right. And what do you think thatthisis, exactly?”

“Aiden,” I say.

He takes a step into the room. “Your number one rule is forthisnot to be serious. That neither of us are allowed to wantthisto continue.”

The blush had been there during my call with my parents, but now it singes my cheeks. “Yeah. I did say that.”

“I won’t hold you to it,” he says. “You know that, right?”

I blink a few times. “You mean you… wouldn’t mind? If I theoretically called you… that… again?”

“Your boyfriend?” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t, no. But we’re not in a rush, either. I think you’ve felt that in the past. The rush. So we won’t add any here.”

“I have to hand in your memoir in a week.”

“Yeah. But life will continue after that. You can stay here. Work on your book proposal, which is fucking fantastic.”

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