Page 54 of Not in My Book

He laughed, biting off half the pickle.

“What about you?” I asked. “Any food you despise?”

He titled his head, his eyes turned to the ceiling in thought. “I don’t like beans. Of any sort.”

“Me either!” I beamed at him and reached across the linoleum black and white table and raised my hand for a high five. Aiden rolled his eyes before slapping my hand back, the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile. “It’s the texture.”

“I watched this movie as a kid,” he began. “Dennis the Menace? He was kidnapped and he had dinner with the guys who kidnapped him, but all they had to eat were beans. They stuffed their faces with it, and that scene always made me sick.”

I nodded in understanding. “My dad knew I didn’t like beans, so when he would get mad at me, he’d make beans for dinner.” The restaurant was nearly empty, our voices echoing in the small building. “I used to hide them under my rice, and he always let me get away with it.”

Aiden finished off the rest of his pickle and grinned. It was sorarefor Aiden to grin. Sure, he smiled and would laugh sometimes, but to watch his whole face morph because of a grin that I’d caused made me glow. “Rosie’s dark side finally comes out.”

“For that, I’m stealing a fry.”

And that started us eating off of each other’s plates. Sometimes when we reached across the table, our hands brushed, and I’d ignore the shock it sent through me. A while later, I hadn’t touched my own fries, but I had eaten most of Aiden’s, and he’d eaten mine.

“Have you ever been in love?” I asked.

Aiden paused with his arm halfway across the table. “Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “Because you hate romance.”

He popped my fry in his mouth. “I don’t hate romance. I hate romancenovels.”

I rolled my eyes. “I feel like you can’t say that when you haven’t read one.”

“I told you I’ve readPride and Prejudice,” he said defensively.

“That’s not what we both mean, and you know it.”

“I’ve been in love before,” he said carefully. “Sort of. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m sureyouhave,” he said, ignoring the question. “Tell me about your first love. I bet you had some sweeping romance with fate and sparks and all the things you read about.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I’ve been in love.” I swirled the straw in my water around, avoiding his gaze. “I thought I was in love, but in retrospect I wasn’t. Because I read romance novels and the love in those stories is just so different from what I’ve experienced. With my ex-boyfriend it was … routine and habitual, a cycle we couldn’t break. When Iamin love, I don’t want to have to wonder if it’s love, you know? I want to know with certainty that there is nothing else I would rather feel.”

He opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could say anything. “And I know romance novels can be unrealistic, but thereareHappy Ever Afters. And, I don’t know … sure, love can be messy, and it can hurt, but I think it’s supposed to heal, too.”

“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “Every time I’ve been in love, or at least thought I was, I thought I had to give up a part of myself. I couldn’t be completely me.”

I snatched one of his fries and gestured for him to take one of mine. I held it up. “To easy, true love.”

“To easy, true love,” he agreed, and we clinked.

Aiden and I had way more in common than I ever thought. We both watchedBig Brother, and dipped our French fries in our milkshakes. Aiden was apparently super into making playlists, too.

“I used to spend hours debating the transition from one song to the next, burning CDs in my bedroom,” he admitted.

“Did you ever make one for a girl?” I asked, cheekily.

He rolled his eyes. “No. I would make them based on a book I’d just read. I’d try to emulate the plot or the vibes of it. I would—”

My phone started buzzing. I cursed and silenced it. But it buzzed again. “Jesus Christ,” I muttered. I shut it off again and shoved it under my leg.

“Do you need to get that?”

---