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That girl doesn’t feel like me—she feels distant and cold, lost mentally and emotionally somehow.
I’m not her anymore though. Because I’m not fortunate at all. I was two millimeters off.
I don’t blame Aiden. And I’ve never forgotten him either. That’s the problem.
Two years ago. The cold tile. And every single moment leading up to it.
Seeing him again doesn’t help. Aiden was the one good thing in my life before it turned to shit.
Once upon a time, I pictured this moment. Kissing Aiden Griffith.
To the wind, I whisper, “Out of your head, Underwood.” And the wind whispers back, Head in the game.
But there are other people I made that promise to in the past that I failed. There’s no way in hell I’m making that mistake again.
“I dare you to hate me, Ivy. Because we both know you don’t. You couldn’t even if you tried.” Because he gave me time.
And that’s when I know. We’re going to be good friends.
“Who says I’m loyal to you, Aiden Griffith?” The slowest, most calculated smile forms on his face, making an eerie feeling creep into my chest and wrap around the beating organ that drums in my ribcage. “Baby, I don’t think you’ve ever stopped.” My throat closes up at his purred baby.
Because now I don’t think I’d be able to walk away from you, and I’m scared of what that means for me.
Aiden makes me feel that way. Anxious. Needy. Unsettled and settled at the same time.
“I want to be the person you can rely on if you need someone, even if you can do it on your own. I want to cheer you on like you always did for me. To support you with whatever makes you happy. And I want that to be me.”
“Let me be a reason to smile,” he whispers so quietly it’s almost drowned out with the pitter-patter of rain around us.
Ivy’s weakness is selflessness—it always has been. It’s her fatal flaw. And mine is undoubtedly her.
My arms hug my knees tightly to my chest, my feet propped on the edge of the seat in a protective stance. “I’m not a whore,” I whisper, failing at patching the internal wall up as a tear slides down my cheek.
He turns the truck on, not looking at me once as he puts it into drive. “No, baby. You’re a survivor.”
“Let me have this, Chaos. For old time’s sake.” My voice is hard, bordering on desperate, as I deliver the statement. For once, she doesn’t fight me.
Next to his strong body. His kind heart.
It’s Aiden Griffith. I hope that never changes.
His hands find my hips.
Mine find his biceps. His squeeze my thighs. Mine coast across his sculpted abs.
Aiden Griffith waited for me.
I want her. But I want football too.
What is it that Dad says? Oh, right. It’s not really a dream if you don’t sacrifice anything for it.
He never corrects him, or anyone, when they call me his girl. His.
Girl. But then again, I don’t either. When did I stop denying it?
