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THE WALK BACK TO AARON’S IS filled with the rustle of crisp packets, the fizz of Lucozade bottles being cracked open, and Cora’s nonstop commentary.
“You two took long enough,” she says around a mouthful of strawberry laces. “Honestly, I was starting to think you’d never get together.”
I snort, nearly dropping the bag of Walkers I’m holding. “Excuse me?”
Aaron groans beside me, shaking his head. “Here we go.”
“I called it, though!” Cora beams, skipping ahead of us on the pavement like she’s just been named Relationship Prophet of the Year. “I said it from the start, remember? I told you, Connie—’she likes you, you donut,’ and you were all mopey like, ‘nooo, she’s way outta my league—'”
Aaron throws a mini packet of Haribos at her. “Relax, kid.”
“You’re welcome,” Cora says, sticking out her tongue as she catches the Haribos mid-air. “I should start charging people for this.”
“She’s unbearable now,” Aaron mutters to me with a dramatic sigh.
“I kind of love it,” I whisper back.
He looks at me sideways, and just like that, there’s this glow in his eyes that I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of.
We round the corner to his street, our bags of snacks rustling as we go.
“Dad’s home,” Cora calls out, pointing to the car parked in the driveway.
My heart sinks.
Last time I saw Aaron’s dad, he told me that I was a distraction. And more.
Does he still think of me like that?
Suddenly, all the fizzy laughter from seconds ago evaporates. My fingers tighten around the plastic bag.
Aaron notices immediately.
He stops walking, turns to me, and without saying a word, slings an arm over my shoulders. Then he leans down and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. His lips are warm, and his touch is grounding.
He doesn’t need to say anything because that itself was enough to calm all my nerves.
We head inside, the smell of tea and toast wafting in from the kitchen.
“Who wants a cuppa?” his dad calls out.
“Me!” Cora yells, kicking her trainers off and practically sprinting to the kitchen.
Aaron and I follow more slowly and his dad turns around just as we enter.
His eyes land on Aaron first—and then they shift to me.
My stomach knots. I prepare for the look. For the sigh. For the disapproval. But instead—he smiles.
“Would you like one too?” he asks, polite, almost gentle.
I blink. Look up at Aaron.
“We’re good, Dad,” Aaron answers for us, his voice calm. “But thanks.”
His dad nods once, turning back to pour the kettle.
Cora’s already at the table, talking to him about some science quiz she aced. The two of them slip into conversation like nothing ever happened. Like things are just… normal.
Aaron nudges me gently, and we head upstairs. The creak of each step sounds louder than usual.
Once we’re halfway up, he whispers into my ear, “I talked to him about it, you know?”
“About what?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“About what he said to you.”
“Oh.” I pause, gripping the banister for a second. “Aaron, you didn’t have to—”
“I did.” He opens the door to his room and holds it for me. “I can’t have anyone talking bad about my girl.”
I look at him then, heart skipping for reasons I don’t fully understand. “Your girl, huh?”
“You know it.” He grins, stepping in close.
Before I can say anything smart back, he leans down and kisses me—soft, sure, like a promise.
And then, in true Aaron fashion, he pulls back, gives me a cocky smirk, and says, “Now come on. Time to lose at FIFA.”
“Oh, please,” I scoff. “You forget who you’re dealing with.” As if I didn’t smoke his ass last time we played.
We collapse onto his bed, surrounded by sweets, drinks, and the buzz of this Xbox. Ten minutes later, I beat him 3–2 in extra time with a last-second goal.
“I can’t fucking take this anymore,” he groans, dropping his controller onto the bed in a huff.
“I can’t relate to you,” I feign a sigh, shrugging my shoulders. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose.
“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffs.
I can feel the smoke growing on my face. “Admit it, O’Connor. I’m better than you.”
“You’re not.”
“Am.”
“Nope!”
“Yep.”
Suddenly, he lunges at me, fingers going straight to my sides.
“Aaron—no—stop—!” I scream-laugh as he starts tickling me, relentless. “I’m serious—I’m gonna pee myself—!”
“You brought this on yourself,” he taunts, both of us a tangled mess of limbs, laughter, and ridiculous inside jokes.
“Okay—okay—I’m sorry!” I wheeze between laughs.
He finally stops, collapsing beside me with a breathless smile. “That’s what I thought, Blondie.”
“You’re evil,” I say, wiping tears from the corners of my eyes.
He turns his head toward me, a lazy smile on his lips. “You still love me, though.”
“Unfortunately,” I mutter.
He chuckles and reaches for a bag of crisps. “Movie next?”
I nod, snuggling into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. At this point, it is.
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