Page 105 of Not in My Book

We talked in his bed for what felt like hours, telling funny stories from our childhood. I told him how Maria and I would catch fireflies in jars, running around in our backyard. How every Thursday night my family would play Monopoly, and I’d threaten to flip the table every time I lost. I talked a lot for the both of us at first. But once he started to open up, the words came rushing out.

I was greedy for everything Aiden revealed about himself. I’d press him for more details about his best friend from second grade or the time he learned to drive in Queens—he’d shake his head as if he was annoyed, suppressing a smile, and then tell me more.

The love I had read in romance novels was so epic and monumental. I’d spent a lifetime craving grand gestures and sweeping proclamations. I hadn’t known the small moments like this would feel as good.

“You really don’t mind looking over my piece for the fellowship?” I asked him, still in bed.

We sat against the headboard, him facing forward with my legs slung over his lap. He gave me a t-shirt he was never getting back because it smelled like him, and I couldn’t get enough. He was rubbing up and down my leg soothingly.

“Not at all, Rosie,” he said, affectionately. “I love reading your writing. Send it over now.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely as I forwarded him once of my previous emails to Ida with the story attached. He reached for his phone to read through it, but I rushed to stop him. “Not now! You’ll make me nervous.”

He shot me a look. “We’ve writtentogether.You don’t need to be shy in front of me of all people.”

I warmed at the sentiment. “Please,” I said anyway. “I’ll just scrutinize your every expression, and then I’ll probably find it hot and then it’ll lead to me wanting to goagainwith you and I really need my rest.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. Are you sore, baby?”

I leaned forward to kiss him quickly, thrilled that I got to justdothat now. “Not too sore for an hour from now.”

I pulled away before he could deepen the kiss because then we’dreallybe in trouble. He studied me before carefully saying, “I didn’t know how important the Frost Fellowship was to you.”

I scoffed. “Ineedthis fellowship. I wish I’d known about it last year, too—if I’d applied and somehow won, I would be halfway through my MFA by now.” I sighed. “But whatever, hopefully it works out this year.”

He squeezed my calf and said, “I’m sure your piece is great.”

“Have you thought about applying?” I asked, hesitantly. Aiden was more in tune with the literary world than I was. I stuck to my romance novels, always scrolling through social media on the eye for the newest releases. But Aiden knew which magazines were important, which agencies were the most reputable.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” he said quietly.

“The due date isn’t until next week. You should apply.” The lie tasted bad in my mouth. I wanted to be as supportive of him as he was of me. But I knew that if he submitted something, he would have a way better chance than me. As much as I adored Aiden, I couldn’t let go of the part of my brain that viewed him as competition.

“We’ll see” was all he said.

I was a bit relieved by this. It made sense. Aiden had more money than God, he probably didn’t need the money at all. I’m sure he was submitting to other magazines, too.

After we fell into a comfortable silence, I said, “I know it shouldn’t matter now, but I want to know why you hated me.”

He frowned. “I didn’thateyou.”

“Puh-lease. Every workshop you had more notes for me than anyone else, and they were always harsher.”

“Because you’re a good writer—”

“Boo.” I said, lifting my leg to push his thigh gently. “That’s a cop-out. Tell me the truth.”

He ruffled his hair, his hand sliding down the side of his face. “It’s complicated.”

“As if you and I don’t know about that,” I said gently. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay.”

Aiden shook his head. “No, I do.” He took a deep breath. “What I said to your parents was true. I liked you the minute I saw you. It’s stupid, but I had never really been that shy in front of people. Years of my father telling me I wasn’t good enough or a nuisance made me develop this thick skin where I just stopped caring. I spentsolong as a kid trying to find the right version of myself for him. Eventually, I didn’t want to live with other people’s expectations of me. But for some reason, when I saw you, I wasbeyondnervous. I simultaneously wanted you to look at only me and never look my way.”

He took a breath and kept going. “When my mom died, I turned harsh—cynical. The kind of person you hate,” he said lightly. “I’ve been trying to get my shit together, but then you walked in with the widest smile and the curliest hair I’d ever seen.” He smiled softly at the memory, his head tilted back against his headboard. “I freaked out. I didn’t know where to place my emotions and then you said you loved romance and this vision I had of us shattered. I knew you’d want someone to sweep you off your feet, but I wasn’t that type of guy. Maybe I was too much of an asshole and probably too childish, but that’s why I distanced myself.”

“Aiden,” I said softly, tears brimming my eyes. I hated how unwanted he felt. How he had spent so long believing that no one could want him the way I do now.

“Someone made me stop believing in love. I didn’t want to be that person for you. Idon’twant to be that person for you.”

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