Eight Weeks (Unfrozen Four Book 2)
Eight Weeks: Chapter 28

“you say we’re just friends, but I swear / when nobody’s around”—Better by Khalid

I woke up half an hour ago to an empty room. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect Aaron to stay around when he wakes up, but I did expect him to come back eventually.

Who is keeping him away for that long? If it’s Leon… fuck, he’ll need someone there.

Even though I’d love to spend some more time in bed, regretting my life choices, I do end up getting up to put on some more presentable clothes. I refuse to go downstairs in shorts and a tank top. Not with Leon around.

I only get to pull my shirt over my head half-way before I freeze to the sound of my bedroom door opening. To make matters worse, I don’t even see who just entered my room thanks to my shirt being around the same height of my head, but I do know they have a splendid view on my boobs right now. A second later, the door closes, but I just know someone is still in the room with me. Someone most definitely being Aaron.

He just tends to have great timing when it comes to seeing my goddamn boobs. Start to think they’re some fucking magnet field for his eyes.

“My, my, Icicle. If you wanted me to fuck you, you just had to say the word,” Aaron jests. I’m about to drop the shirt back down my body when two hands touch my arms, stopping me. “Sofia…” His voice is low, breathy. His hands move to my shirt, pulling it right over my head and arms before he tosses it over into my hamper.

Aaron’s eyes meet mine, pupils dilated and filled with lust that he tries to blink away. As soon as my arms sink to my sides, I contemplate on covering myself up but then conclude that it’s useless as he has seen my boobs already anyway, so why hide them?

After a little while his eyes follow down my neck, settling on my boobs. His gaze burning my skin. If I didn’t know it’s physically impossible to burn skin using one’s eyes, I’d be convinced Aaron is leaving some third-degree burn scars on my body.

“Do you have a breast fetish?” I ask at the same time as his hands grasp my waist and he pulls me closer into his body. “I mean, you do so happen to like looking at them.”

“Generally, no. For yours, definitely.”

Oh, okay.

His hands on my waist slide up until his thumbs brush the underside of my boobs. While Aaron is too busy ogling my breasts, I use the opportunity to ogle him, take mental images of his face to savor them until I die.

Why does he have to be so goddamn handsome?

His hair seems to be fluffy, a dream come true for my hands. Long and voluminous. His skin a tad too light but suiting to his freckles and light leaf green eyes. His lips far too kissable for my liking, but enough to make me crave them on mine. Aaron’s jaw is chiseled, defined like I’ve had yet to see one. And the dimple on his right side whenever he smiles… I could die looking at him.

A shiver runs down my spine when one of his thumbs brushes over my skin ever so softly, it might as well be a brush of air.

His eyebrows dip into a frown—nothing mad but confused, maybe? A frown of interest? “What does it mean?”

What does what mean? His touch? The fuck do I know. I’d say it means he’s interested in my body. What does it mean that I let him touch me? I’m sure it means I’m just as interested in his… and I don’t seem to have enough strength in me to fight it right now.

“The tattoo, Sofia,” he chuckles, clearly having noticed my inner conflict. “What does it mean?”

Oh. The tattoo. I totally forgot I had it.

Suddenly, I really miss my shirt, or any shirt. Even a blanket around my torso would do.

Finally, I manage to step back from Aaron, walking over to my closet to replace a shirt to wear. Without looking at Aaron again, I speak. “It just says ‘breathe’. It doesn’t have a meaning.” Only that I have crippling anxiety and need to be reminded that it’s okay to take a break every now and then.

“I think it does. But alright, if you don’t want to tell me yet, I won’t make you.”

Oh lord, why does he have to respect me this much? Or anyone for that matter? Couldn’t he be a total asshole? Being an asshole would certainly make hating him less difficult.

Imagine he wouldn’t give a shit about what I wanted, how I felt. How differently I would think if he weren’t still the sweet guy, he was at the age of eight, loving to tease but respectful. Only now does he also know how to tease me in ways that has not only my head smoking in anger, but also make my body act like a complete fucking traitor.

Once I’m wearing a hoodie and exchanged my shorts for some black leggings, I allow myself to turn around again, replaceing Aaron standing by my dresser. He must be looking at the pictures, wondering why I have them here and why I would frame them and put them up.

My words are my worst enemy. I keep saying the kiss Aaron and I shared meant nothing, that him and I could never work… and yet I have pictures of us when we were younger standing on my dresser like some fucking shrine. It’s kind of like my own personal temple, or so people could think if they looked at it.

Suddenly I’m glad I threw in pictures of my closest friends here in Germany as well. Only like two, but that’s better than none, considering that there must be three framed ones of Aaron and me alone, then approximately six other ones of Lily, him and I hanging on the wall somewhere between all the other ones. The other ones being six in total, at most.

“See anything interesting?” I ask, figuring that I have to say something.

“I talked to your mom.” Aaron turns around, now holding a bouquet of fucking flowers in his hands. Or so I assume. They’re covered with an extra sheet of white wrapping paper. Where the hell did he get those from anyway? “She said you wanted to stay here.”

The ultimate betrayal.

“I like it here.” I do. I hated living in the center of Munich. Big crowds and everything being so busy wasn’t my thing. But then we moved here, into this small village. Everyone knows the other, the people are kind and always there for one if needed. They’re like one big family and I loved the closeness. I never felt uncomfortable here, never had to worry about random men groping me when I walk alone at night, because word would get around quicker than anything.

If one of the villagers hate you, you’re doomed. Your entire family is doomed, actually.

Aaron hums as he takes a step closer to me. “I don’t blame you. It’s beautiful here, though I bet it looks better in the summer.”

It does. Everything is far greener, more fun. You can do other things than try not to slip while walking up the hill and ending up sliding down instead.

“Did you mean to walk away from New City?”

I nod. There’s no use in denying it. “I had nothing there anymore. I basically grew up around here. And after what happened when we came back to America… I just—”

Aaron’s eyebrows draw together. “What happened?” he interrupts.

My heart begins to beat faster, hands shaking as I realize my mistake. I swore to never speak about it ever again. I swore to never feel the way I felt when it happened ever again. “Get me drunk and you might be able to get an answer.”

Without trying to argue, Aaron takes yet another step toward me, holding the bouquet out for me. He doesn’t press for an explanation, which I love about him.

Not love. Like. It’s what I like about him. Cherish, appreciate, value, if you will. Any other adjective in the book. But definitely not love.

“I figured you could use something beautiful in your life, apart from me, obviously.”

This guy… I’m at a loss of words for his cockiness.

I take the bouquet, immediately lifting the top paper to look at the flowers only to have my breath get sucked right out of my lungs. Beautiful fucking soft purple lilacs staring back at me like they’re the sun shining down on me.

There’s one thing I should do, like thank him, cry while being overrun with joy, but what comes out of me are six whole other words. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“I thought you’d be happy to get flowers, your favorite ones, mind you. I suppose I was wrong.”

My head shakes all by itself, mouth slightly opened in either shock or disbelief, perhaps a healthy mixture of both. “One stem alone costs good four dollars, give or take. These must be what? One hundred stems?”

“Is this a bad time to tell you I’ve got more?”

“LILACS?”

He snorts a laugh. “No, presents.”

I let out a deep breath, taking steps back until my legs hit my bed. Sitting down, I stare at the flowers in my hands, blinking away tears. I refuse to let some of those salty traitors run down my cheeks, telling Aaron just how much I love these. Appreciate. How much I appreciate these.

No one has ever gotten me flowers, especially not lilacs. Given the price of one single stem, I understand why no one has ever bought me lilacs. But fuck, I never even received a daisy, and everyone knows you can literally pick them off the grass outside.

Looking up to meet his eyes, I smile at him softly. “Thank you for these,” I say, using every ounce of strength in me not to cry or smile like a child seeing candy. “This means the world to me.”

“You’ll get more.” He offers me a nonchalant shrug, grinning widely at the same time as he goes to grab a giftbag from beside my dresser. Once he’s back in front of me, Aaron sits down on the floor, crossing his legs while handing me the bag. “Now, I know you love romance novels, but I didn’t know which one would be a surprise to get you, so I had to ask the owner if she knew you and all. She recommended something. So, in case you don’t like it and it doesn’t surprise you at all, it’s not my fault.”

I chuckle, even though I’m unsure of what he’s talking about. At least until I open the giftbag and peek inside, replaceing a hardcover book staring back at me. Gasping, my eyes snap to Aaron’s. “You did not.”

“Did what?”

“Get lilacs and a hardcover! Do you know how expensive both things are?” I mean, hardcovers are definitely less expensive than lilacs, for sure.

Aaron runs his fingers through his hair. “Can’t say I checked the bill.”

Of course he didn’t. Honestly, I don’t think I’d check it either, too afraid of my heart stopping to beat when I see the number on the receipt.

I pull out the book from the bag, experiencing yet another minor heart attack when I see it’s a fucking first edition of Pride and Prejudice. I was well aware our local bookstore sold it, but none of the villagers could ever pay for that thing.

I mean, spending hundreds on a book or food… yeah, I think everyone chooses food over books.

“Does your money have any boundaries?” I regret asking instantly. It’s rude to ask about money, but honestly, can you blame me for blurting out the question?

“For you? No.” Aaron takes the giftbag from me, setting it down on the floor. He then lays the book on the bed beside me before taking my hands in his. “I got access to my trust fund when I turned twenty-one. My dad wants me to use the money to buy a house or do anything smart with it, invest or, you know… things like that. But I figured spending it on stuff that’ll bring a smile to your face will do.”

Aaron Marsh has officially lost his mind.

“No, Aaron. I’m thankful you got those for me, truly. However, if you could get a refund for these”—I nod towards the lilacs—“I would make you get it… but as that’s impossible, I have to ask you not to spend so much money on me anymore. The money is for something important. It’s for your future. Think of the dreamhouse you want. You could use the money to buy a piece of land and build the house you’ve dreamed of.”

He shakes his head. “You are important, Sofia. More important than any dream I have ever had or will ever have.”

Please, I need him to just stop this. Stop breaking my heart with every word he says that isn’t proving his hatred for me. He has not once shown me he hated me, but fuck, I need him to. It’ll make leaving him behind when college is over so much easier.

He leans a little into me, not all too much but enough for my pulse to go nuts.

“I was going to get you one of those porn books you seem to like,” he says, his voice a little hoarse when he speaks. “But I couldn’t think of any book you don’t already have that intrigued me to buy.”

A pink flush appears on my skin, I’m sure of it. “How would you know about my ‘porn books’?”

His hands lay on my knees, a shiver rushing through my body. And then… he winks. He. Fucking. Winks. And to make matters worse, he adds a smirk.

Hi, God, it’s me again.