Its Friday afternoon and have just finished with my classes when I get a text from Benson asking if we could spend the day together, and I agree.
We spend the whole day together, escaping into something that almost feels like before. We take a drive to the outskirts of the city, stopping by a quiet park where the wind rustles through the trees, and the late afternoon sun casts golden streaks through the branches. There's a small café nearby, one we used to go to all the time, and as we sit across from each other with warm drinks in our hands, something between us feels light again.
We talk about random things—movies we need to watch, how Maddie is always getting herself into some kind of drama, how his dad is still pushing him toward law school even when he isn't sure that's what he wants. He smiles more than I've seen him do in weeks, his blue eyes softening, the tension in his jaw slowly fading.
I find myself laughing, really laughing, and as Benson reaches across the table, intertwining his fingers with mine, I remember—he's always made me happy. He always knew how to bring me back from the chaos in my head, how to make me feel like everything was okay.
But somewhere deep inside me, there's still that feeling. That tiny, gnawing sensation that something is just slightly off. Like I'm trying too hard to hold on to something slipping away. I push it down. Tonight is not the night to question things.
Later, we end up at his place, sprawled across his couch, our legs tangled together as we binge-watch a show neither of us is paying attention to. The way his fingers brush absentmindedly over my arm sends warmth coursing through me, and when he finally leans in to kiss me, I let myself melt into it.
The kiss turns deeper, needier, and before I can think, we're tangled together in his bed, hands roaming, breaths heavy. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel uncertain—I feel wanted. I feel right where I belong.
And as I fall asleep beside him, his arms wrapped around me, I make a promise to myself.
I'm never getting involved with Aiden again.
I'm woken up by my loud ringtone.
It's Aiden.
IT'S FUCKING AIDEN.
The sharp sound cuts through the silence of Benson's apartment, and as I scramble to grab my phone, I realize too late that Benson is already stirring beside me. He winces as the music blares, groggily turning to face me just as I finally answer the call.
Judging from the background noise—blaring music, indistinct shouting—Aiden is at a party, and he's definitely drunk.
"Katie," he slurs, barely audible over the chaos. "Come get me."
Benson watches me carefully, propping himself up on one elbow. He knows about my friendship with Aiden, so ignoring the call would only raise more questions. Still, something in his expression shifts.
Minutes later, we're pulling up to the party. The house is a mess—people spilling onto the lawn, music shaking the windows. And there, leaning against the front of the house like he owns the damn place, is Aiden.
He spots us but doesn't look at me. Instead, he greets Benson with a smirk, pushing himself off the wall and sliding into the back seat without a single glance my way.
"Is something wrong between you guys?" Benson asks as we pull away.
I shake my head, forcing a casual shrug. "He's just drunk. He'll be fine."
Benson doesn't push, and soon, we're joking around again, the same way we had all day. I let myself sink into it, into us, into the ease of what we used to be. For once, Aiden's presence doesn't feel like a looming shadow. He's nothing to me. Just a friend.
Or, rather, just someone I used to know.
When we reach Aiden's apartment, he's completely blacked out, forcing Benson and me to search his pockets for his keys. After some struggling, we drag him inside, maneuvering him to his bedroom. I've been here before, more times than I care to admit, and I know exactly where to go.
As I kneel down to pull off his shoes, his voice suddenly cuts through the silence.
"Wait."
Benson sighs. "I'll be in the car."
I exhale sharply, my patience wearing thin. "What, Aiden?"
His hand shoots out, gripping my wrist, and suddenly, I'm caught between his legs. The position is too intimate, too familiar, and for a moment, I hate myself for the way my heartbeat stutters.
His grey eyes lock onto mine, something unreadable flickering behind them. "Are you really cutting me off?"
The question takes me off guard. We agreed on this. Cutting each other off is the only way. The best way.
Before I can answer, Aiden moves. One moment, I'm kneeling, and the next, he flips me onto the bed, pinning me beneath him.
His lips crash against mine, urgent and desperate, and for some reason—for some goddamn reason—I don't push him away. I respond.
The kiss is fire, a collision of emotions I refuse to name. When we finally break apart, we're breathing hard, staring at each other with something too heavy, too raw.
His gaze flickers to my neck, and I know exactly what he sees.
The hickeys Benson left.
His expression darkens, and before I can react, he pulls me in for another kiss—this one punishing. His mouth moves to my neck, his hands gripping my waist, and I hate—hate—how easy it is for him to unravel me.
But then it clicks.
I shove him off, scrambling to my feet. "What the fuck, Aiden?!"
He doesn't answer. He just stares at my neck, at his fresh throbbing hickeys, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then, something in him shifts. The storm inside him fades, leaving nothing but cold indifference.
His hand reaches out, brushing the marks lightly. "Beautiful," he murmurs.
Then he steps back, his expression closing off entirely. "You should probably go before your boyfriend gets worried." He turns away, casually lying back on the bed. "Besides, I called Rosie. She should be here any minute."
The words feel like a slap.
I stand there, my heart hammering, my emotions a tangled mess of guilt, anger, and something far worse.
Without another word, I turn and walk away, my legs feeling heavier with every step.
Back in the car, Benson asks no questions, and I offer no explanations. I make up a story about Aiden fighting with his girlfriend, anything to brush it off.
Back at Benson's place, I grab a few snacks, anything to rid myself of the lingering taste of Aiden.
We fall asleep tangled together, the night filled with soft laughter and meaningless jokes.
And yet, as I close my eyes, my chest feels tight, my heart crushed beneath the weight of everything I refuse to admit.