Dear Aaron

by Mariana Zapata

There’s only so much I’m willing to do for my country. Nudies isn’t one of them.

Would it make it any better if I told you that your country appreciates your dedication, nudies or not?

I was a chicken. This was my truth. I wasn’t afraid to admit it. It was me. Ruby Marisol Santos was a certified, grade-A chicken. Not even the good kind of chicken that was grass fed and antibiotic-free because I’d been on antibiotics a few months ago. I was the worst kind of freaking chicken. The human kind.

“Maybe we should text for a minute first. Break the ice.”

“You could’ve told me your mom and sister are the ugly ones in the family.”

I screamed . I’m obsessed. I love this man. Period.

“Are you going to hug me or are you just going to stand there?” I asked him. I had no idea right then that, for as long as my soul resided in my body and I could reminisce on the best parts of my life, I’d remember how Aaron Hall leaned forward and wrapped those long, tan arms around my back and pulled me into his chest. Me who was still on the bench. The way he hugged the hell out of me would be something that sickness and death could never take away. And in the time it took me to suck in a breath, I put my own arms around him. I’d hugged dozens of men before. Dozens and dozens, hundreds of times. And Aaron’s upper body was just as wide and solid in front of mine like the best of them. But better. So much better. Because his hug was the greatest. He smelled like a hint of cologne with cedar in it. And I would remember it forever.