Paper Hearts, Page 3

  Okay, weird. Was he too shy to talk to me, or did he not want to tell me his name?

  “Never mind,” I said. “Pretend I never said anything.”

  After a few more moments, he draped his headphones around his neck and said, “I’m Aaron.” He didn’t give a last name, but I could work with that.

  “So Aaron,” I said and tried not to wrinkle my nose. Calling him Aaron felt wrong somehow, but maybe that was because I babysat a little boy named Aaron who enjoyed wearing his Halloween costume year-round and popping out of closets to scare people. “What are you doing here?” As soon as I said this, I realized it sounded like I was asking why he was sitting with me, and I quickly added, “At the ball, I mean.”

  “My dad was invited,” he said without giving a more detailed explanation. I was pretty sure he was frowning, though it was hard to tell because of his mask. I wanted to reach over and pull it off so I could see his face, but I folded my hands neatly in my lap.

  God, Felicity. Can you be anymore awkward?

  Apparently I could.

  “Is that the man with the dark hair you were talking to earlier?” I was trying to get him talking, and Aaron, who seemed to be the silent type, wasn’t much help. His lips twitched, and for a split second, I saw what I thought was a flicker of emotion on his face.

  “So you did see me.”

  Oh. My freaking. God.

  Embarrassment slammed into my chest like a well-aimed roundhouse kick. I resisted the urge to run back to the girls’ bathroom and hide. My question sounded completely stalkerish and creepy, but then it occurred to me that with his response, Aaron had admitted to noticing me too.

  “Well, yeah,” I confessed. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. “It was kind of hard not to with the way you were staring.”

  My answer made him look away, like he felt shy about the situation too. As he did, he touched his headphones as if he was making sure they were still there. “When I first saw you standing there,” he said, “I thought you were someone else.”

  Of course, I thought. Here we go again. I knew what his answer would be, but I asked, “Really, who?”

  “Don’t laugh, but I thought you were Violet James. She’s the actress in—”

  He’d asked me not to, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I know who she is.”

  Violet James, a.k.a. vampire princess Lilliana LaCroix from Immortal Nights. The show was her first starring role, and ever since it aired, people insisted we could be twins. I didn’t see it. Violet had pale hair and light-brown, almost golden eyes, which was a stark contrast to my red mane and green ones. Yet, whenever I ventured into the touristy areas of LA, people would stop me on the street to ask for an autograph.

  It wasn’t that I hated being compared to Violet. After all, she was beyond gorgeous, but it always came up when I met someone new. It didn’t matter who the person was. I could be meeting the president of the United States or the Little Mermaid, and sooner or later they would point out the resemblance. In fact, I’d heard it so many times that I knew exactly how the conversation would go. Normally I was asked personal questions about Violet (as if looking like someone gave you the power to read their mind), when the next season would start (suddenly I had insider information?), and if I could do that Lilliana quote that everybody seemed to love. (No, I’m not quoting a sex scene!)

  But tonight something entirely different happened. Aaron went off script.

  “As soon as you glanced my way, I knew you weren’t her.” He said this like it was amusing.

  “Really? How’s that?”

  “When Violet looks at you, she has a way of making you feel minuscule even if you’re six feet tall.” Aaron spoke about Violet as if they knew each other, but he was quick to change the subject. “So you never said. What are you doing here tonight?”

  “Oh, I volunteer for the CCA.”

  For the first time since I met him, Aaron smiled. It was one of those slow half grins, and my lips tugged up in response. “Normally my dad has to drag me to these social events, but I have a friend who”—he hesitated, his smile disappearing—“has a close connection to the cause.”

  …meaning his friend has cancer. Or has a family member with cancer. Either way, it was terrible. My first thought was to offer some type of condolence, but I didn’t know anything about his friend’s situation, and Aaron clearly wasn’t willing to get into the details. The best thing I could do was be friendly and maybe try to wrangle another smile out of him.

  “Well, you’ll be happy to hear that my particular job is integral to the cause,” I said, splaying a hand against my chest. “I spent the earlier part of my evening working coat check.”

  This made him laugh. It wasn’t loud or long, but there was enough of a chuckle to make my heart flutter.

  “In this heat?” And as if to make a point, he unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and tugged it off. After folding it neatly and setting it down between us, he reached for his bow tie. “Do you mind if I…?”

  “Nope.” I grinned and kicked off my heels. “Oh, thank God. These evil things remind me why I’m not fond of formal wear.” As fun as it was to get dressed up in a ball gown, the pain in my feet was far from glamorous.

  “Aside from your dress,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or asking a question.

  Dammit, we’re back to this topic again?

  “I honestly don’t care about the stain.” I glanced down at the brown spot. Now that it was dry, it was much less noticeable. “It’s just…” I didn’t know how to explain my plan to return the dress without sounding horrible. Aaron didn’t prompt me further. He sat there, staring at me until I figured out what to say. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I flipped, but if I do, you’re going to think less of me.”

  Aaron looked me directly in the eye. “I highly doubt that.”

  “Wanna bet?” I asked, but I didn’t wait to hear his answer. “I left the price tag on.”

  He was quiet for a moment as he considered my words. “That makes you a bad person?”

  “Yeah, because I was going to wear it and return it. Look, I’ve never done something like that before, but all the volunteers had to dress up for the ball and I don’t own any formal dresses, and this was the least expensive one I could find, but tuition at Stanford is going to be ridiculous and—”

  Before I could finish, he held up a hand to cut off my rambling. “No. I don’t think you would have done that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m an excellent judge of character,” he said, like it was a fact and not his own opinion.

  “How does that work? Wait, don’t tell me… Intuition? Spidey senses?”

  Aaron shook his head.

  “Then what?” I demanded. I needed to know how he understood something about me before I did, especially considering we’d just met. Because as soon as Aaron announced that I wouldn’t return the dress, I knew he was right. I didn’t have the guts to follow through.

  “Because,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve never seen anyone look as guilty as you do over something they haven’t actually done.”

  He stood and brushed off his pants, and I was positive he was ditching me—which, I realized, is probably a good thing, because our entire encounter thus far had been mortifying. But then he did something I didn’t expect. He sucked in a quick breath and held out his hand.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked, gesturing at the gardens.

  He seemed eager and cautious in the same instant, and it put every humiliating second from tonight out of my head. I glanced down at his outstretched fingers, and a slow smile worked its way onto my lips.

  Okay, cute guy. Why not?

  I put my hand in his and let him lead the way.

  Chapter 3

  The gardens were huge, much larger than I’d originally
thought, and it would have been easy to get lost along the mazelike pathways. We wandered beyond the decorative lights and lanterns surrounding the fountain, but the glow of the ballroom perched on the hill behind us helped me keep my bearings.

  Aaron hadn’t said anything since his invitation. I spent the beginning of our walk trying to come up with conversation starters, but he was moving forward with a purpose, like he was deep in concentration, so I kept my lips pressed together. And the deeper we pushed into the greenery, the less I minded our lack of talk.

  At first, his hush made me feel like I had to say something, but the longer we walked, the more I noticed how confident Aaron was in his own silence. It occurred to me that he didn’t expect me to say anything, and the steel between my shoulders finally dissolved. Only then was I able to notice the more subtle things going on around me, like the way Aaron and I were walking close enough that our elbows occasionally bumped or how every few seconds he’d cast a sideways glance in my direction.

  Before long, the walkway opened up, and Aaron came to a stop where the rosebushes ended. We were standing at the edge of a small square, and in its center was a koi pond. Lily pads dotted the surface of the water, and a tiny moon bridge connected to the path on the other side.

  “It’s pretty,” I said, breaking the quiet between us. There was enough moonlight for me to see flashes of white and orange moving beneath the dark water.

  Aaron nodded. “I came here a long time ago with my mother. We fed the fish Doritos.”

  My eyes widened. “You gave chips to the fish?”

  “They’ll eat almost anything,” he said, shrugging.

  “No, I mean why would you willingly throw away something as delicious as a Dorito? Were they Cool Ranch? If they were, I don’t know if we can be friends.” Chips, whether tortilla or potato, were my all-time favorite snack food. Cool Ranch Doritos were my personal crack. I could devour an entire family-size bag in one sitting. But as long as they had that satisfying crunch, I’d eat any kind.

  “They were Sweet Chili,” he assured me.

  “I suppose that’s okay,” I told him. “But you have to swear to never again waste a chip.”

  “Cross my heart,” he promised.

  We fell quiet again. Deciding to take a page from Aaron’s book, I took a seat on the stone bench near the water’s edge. Aaron followed suit. Again, he was careful not to sit too close. For the next few minutes, we stared out across the water, enjoying the placidity of nighttime in the garden. Eventually, I turned to face him. He was still clutching his phone, and I watched as he turned it over in his hands.

  “Got anything good to listen to?” I asked, gesturing down at it.

  Our eyes met again, and Aaron offered me a dazzling smile. I didn’t know what kind of reaction I was expecting from him, but that flash of white wasn’t it. For the second time, I was momentarily blown away by how beautiful he was, and even though it felt weird to describe a guy that way, beautiful was the most accurate word that came to mind.

  Aaron didn’t notice the effect his smile had on me, because he was already busy scrolling through his music. After a few moments of searching, he found the song he was looking for and shoved one of the buds into his ear. He handed me the other, but we were sitting too far apart, so when I tried to put mine in, I accidentally yanked his out.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. For reasons I couldn’t explain, sharing headphones and listening to Aaron’s music felt intimate.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He fished around for the dangling bud, and once he caught it, he glanced down at the space between us. After a moment of consideration, he scooted toward me and slipped the earpiece back in, and we both focused on the music.

  The song was slow—soft in some places and loud in others. It reminded me of a combination of These Beautiful Lies and Sunday’s Calling, my two all-time favorite bands. Aaron let me listen to the whole song before pressing Pause.

  “Do you like it?” he asked. His lips were slightly parted, and he held his breath as he waited for my answer.

  “It was beautiful.” There was so much more I wanted to say, like how it was one of those songs that made my heart fly. I didn’t know the lyrics or melody, but some part of me welcomed the unfamiliar music like an old friend, as if the artist had used my soul as inspiration when writing it. “What’s it called?”

  “‘Flying Free’ by the Silver Souls,” he responded, not taking his eyes off mine.

  “Never heard of them.” But the first thing I was going to do when I got home was download the song.

  “They haven’t released any music yet.”

  I paused. If the Silver Souls don’t have an album out, how in the world does he have access to their music?

  “Oh?” I prompted, wanting him to explain, but my curiosity only made Aaron clamp his mouth shut. From the way his shoulders stiffened, I knew my question had made him uncomfortable.

  Again, weird.

  I tugged on a strand of my hair and tried to patch up the situation. “So,” I said hesitantly. “Mind if we listen to some more?”

  He exhaled through his nose and nodded. “Here.” He handed me his phone. “You pick.”

  I took it from him carefully and cradled it in my palm. A few seconds passed as I thought about how unexpected tonight was turning out to be.

  Aaron cleared his throat. “Um, Felicity?”

  “Yeah?”

  He pointed down at the phone. “You have to hit Play for it to work.”

  “Right.” I fumbled with the device for a moment, and then the screen lit up. I quickly jabbed the play button. Another song by the Silver Souls started playing, and Aaron closed his eyes and settled into the bench. I took a second to watch him listen to the music. He was drumming his fingers against his legs, silently mouthing the words. He looked so content I had a hard time tearing my gaze away from him, but I didn’t want to be caught staring. Smiling to myself, I copied him and let my eyes flutter shut.

  This was by far the best part of my evening, so it was no surprise it didn’t last long. We’d only made it through three more songs before I felt something vibrating inside my clutch. When I pulled out my phone, Asha’s name flashed on the screen. I yanked out the earbud and answered.

  “Hey, girl. What’s up?”

  “Felicity,” she said in an I-mean-business tone. “Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m sorry, Asha. I didn’t mean to ditch you, but I spilled soda on my dress and then I—”

  She cut me off before I could explain. “Never mind that. I have to leave, like now.”

  I glanced at Aaron before moving out of earshot. “Can’t we stay a little bit longer?” I whisper-asked. “I met this guy. His name is—”

  “No can do,” she interrupted again. “Riya called. She finished her shift at the grocery store, but her car won’t start. I have to go pick her up.”

  I groaned. Asha’s older sister had a rust bucket of a car. It was a banged-up Ford Festiva their dad drove around in the eighties and smoked lots of pot in. Riya was gifted Michael James—as Asha and I had christened him, since he was clearly a guy and not a Mary Jane—when she turned sixteen.

  Because I lived close by, Riya offered to give me rides to school. At the time, I’d been ecstatic. Mom worked in the mornings, so I had to face the social embarrassment of taking the bus. My excitement lasted exactly one day before I reverted back to public transportation, a decision I made for my own safety. When Riya arrived to pick me up, I had to climb through the window into the backseat because the rear doors were bungee-cabled shut.

  After that, the only time I rode in her car was when she lent it to Asha. Then I got to sit shotgun where there was a working seat belt. On the few occasions when Riya lent her car to us, Asha and I planned day trips together, like an afternoon at the beach or an outing to Runyon Canyon where we would hike our favorite three-mile tr
ail. Sometimes we only had the car for an hour, so we’d cruise the neighborhood and stop at the Gas Exchange for snacks: Cool Ranch Doritos for me, slushy and Pop Rocks for Asha.

  Four years later, it was a feat the car had lasted so long.

  “Oh no!” I said with a laugh. “Not the Festiva! We’ll have to hold a candlelight vigil to pay our respects.”

  Asha snorted. “We can thank the Lord for Michael James’s passing later. Riya has already called me three times, and I’m running low on minutes for the month.”

  I sighed and yanked a hand through my hair. “Just go without me. I’ll catch the bus.”

  “You sure? It’s getting late.”

  I was way sure. Although I didn’t want to deal with the multiple transfers I’d have to make, I was less inclined to spend the rest of my night listening to Riya moan about her damn car. Complaining ran in the family, and she was more seasoned in the art than Asha.

  “Definitely,” I told her. “Say one last good-bye to Michael James for me. He’s been a semi-faithful companion these past few years.”

  “Text me when you make it home,” Asha said in response. “I want to hear about this guy.”

  I bit back a smile. So she had heard me mention Aaron. “Sure thing. Talk at you later.”

  “Peace, Fel.” And with a click, she was gone.

  I returned to the bench and scooped up my clutch. I had roughly fifteen minutes to find my way back to the ballroom, grab my bag from coat check, and reach the nearest bus stop. If I didn’t, I’d have to wait another hour before the next bus came through.

  “Is everything okay?” Aaron asked.

  “My ride had to leave,” I explained. I didn’t want to say good-bye like this, but like Cinderella, I had to catch my coach home before it was too late. “If I don’t go now, I’m going to miss the bus. I’m super sorry. It was nice meeting you, Aaron.”

  His face hid it well, but I caught a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Wait,” he said, standing quickly. “I was planning on leaving early anyway. How about I give you a lift?” I blinked, and he must have realized how forward his offer sounded because he added, “Only if you want one, of course.”