Before Aiden came back to town, silence was something I didn’t really do. If I wasn’t talking to someone in person, I had a constant string of notifications coming in from my phone. If I wasn’t talking to anyone at all, I would have music on, headphones in. I’ve always needed a little noise.

Aiden has changed a lot of things about me, but this is the one that I'm most aware of, recently.

Whether we’re watching dawn break over an ancient forest, or just quietly walking home together after a long day... I’ve discovered that silence can be comfortable, if you figure out what kind fits you right.

It’s a lesson I probably could have learned from the plants that I love so much. They don’t need words to tell you what they’re thinking. They only need you to really look, really listen. They wait until the right moment, as long as it takes, and then speak to you.

Like Aiden.

At the start of summer, you would never catch me alone, in my room, thinking in silence. My old bedroom, my childhood one. If I close my eyes, it could be years back. I can hear the faint sound of my mom laughing downstairs, and I know it’s the laugh that my dad rises out of her by sneaking some scandalous false detail into a story, something she’ll need to correct. My initial instinct is to rush downstairs and make sure they’re not telling Aiden anything too wild or embarrassing, but…

Instead, I stand here, taking deep breaths. Lost in my thoughts.

I've wanted Aiden so badly. I've been curious, then attracted, then interested, and then something more. But I haven’t really taken the time to slow down and appreciate that somehow, someway, despite everything I told myself when I was desperately trying to prevent him from catching onto my feelings - I finally have him. And he has me, and he wants me, and he says that he has for a long time.

In this very room, I’ve been a stranger to Aiden. Then an enemy, a favorite target. A stranger again. And then… It was on this bed that he told me I was his best friend. And he’s still my best friend, only now he might push me down into the pillows and look into my eyes and stroke my cheek with the back of his fingers, whisper things in my ear that I never thought were possible.

“The ground rules,” I’d said once to Kasey, after a particularly bad day.

“Yeah, let’s go over them again, because this isn’t sticking, apparently.”

“One: never ever trust Aiden, anything he says, anything he does. It’s all lies.”

“Correct. Two?”

“Never go out of my way to try to talk to him.”

“You always fail at this one. I don’t even know why you keep trying to be nice. It’s never going to work. Maybe we should change this one to always go out of your way to avoid him.”

“Shush. Three: don’t let him get to me, no matter what horrible thing he says.”

“You’re not great at three, either, Jamie. That’s why you should just stay away. You know who he is. He’s shown you over and over again. Just remember that. You know who he is.”

Aiden pushed all of the windows in my bedroom open when we came over to my parent’s house tonight. Cold air is rolling into my room. I move to stand by the window, looking out over the moonlit back lawn, the swaying hemlock trees, the garden. He didn’t even look out at the view, only slid the windows up like he was on autopilot, chatting with me over his shoulder.

I touch a hand to the window. Yes, I know who Aiden is. I know now how completely wrong about him I was before, and I was so wrong that I’m starting to wonder if he didn’t purposely paint me a diversionary picture. He truly was a bully, and selfish, and a liar, but - Ripley’s words come back to me. Logic within the chaos. There was some reason for it all. Probably multiple reasons. I can’t even begin to untangle the threads, not until Aiden gives me a place to start.

He’s shown me how to wait, honestly wait, and I will wait until he pulls on one of those threads, looks at me, and says, see? Here’s where it all began. This is what I thought. This is how it changed everything.

And how quickly everything can change. I sit down on my bed and smooth my hands over the covers.

I know this is weird to say, because we’ve only been hanging out for like, half a summer, but you’re probably my best friend. Definitely, actually. I don’t even know why I said probably.

That wasn’t the first impossible thing that Aiden has said or done or shown me, and it definitely hasn’t been the last, either.

With him, it feels like my imagination isn’t expansive enough for all of the endless discoveries and possibilities that the world has to offer. Like life with him could be - no, will be an adventure, even if we never leave Ketterbridge again. Not just because he’s magic. Strangely enough, that’s only one small part of it. Like taking just the mountains from that clifftop view, leaving out the sky, the valleys, the river, the forest.

The picture is much richer than that. Even with lifetimes to use up, you could never find every secret, every surprise.

I blink, look up, and find Aiden leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, watching me. I reach for him, and he moves immediately to join me on the bed. Sits down next to me and lays back, so I lay back, too. We look at each other, and I realize that we’re in the exact same position as we were when he told me that I’m his best friend.

He knows, too, because he smiles, lets out a soft laugh through his nose. I smile back. Shake my head at him. Can you believe this? He shakes his head back at me. No. Still, no.

I reach for his hand and find it already reaching for mine. Our fingers twine together. I slide my thumb along his knuckles, over that sensitive spot of skin between his thumb and his index finger, over the tendons on the back of his hand, over his fingernails, his fingertips. I’m staggered all over again by how I could have gone from hating his entire existence to cherishing every tiny detail that makes him who he is. Like I could find this hand in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, and know right away: Aiden.

I can read the look on his face. He’s feeling thoughtful, like I am, and he’s happy. His expression always used to be so apathetic, permanently blank. Because he’s so dead inside, I would think to myself. I utterly failed to predict that I would one day see his face come alive so brightly. That I would come to intimately know how happiness looks on him, or excitement, pain, or sadness. Affection. Interest. Pleasure. The first and the last are tied for my favorite.

How could Aiden’s mom ever tell him that no one would love him for who is, when this is who he is?

Something must be happening on my face, because Aiden lifts his free hand and gently strokes his fingers along my neck. I lean closer to him, but don’t move to kiss him. I tuck my head beneath his chin, and he drops my hand so that he can wrap an arm around me.

He warned me that life with him could be dangerous, but this is the safest I’ve ever felt.

I listen to the thrum of his heartbeat.

I’ve never told him about how I burned my journal, stopped writing poetry after he stole the poem from me. I’ve decided that I never will. I meant it, when I told him that I would never purposely do anything to make him unhappy. And anyways… when I reach for the anger and shame that came out of that incident, I can’t find it.

I can always pick up a pen again, buy a new journal. Start over. But if having that poem in any way helped Aiden get back to me, helped us find each other again across a sea of anger and distance and time - then it was worth it. It was worth it just to lay here and listen to his heartbeat for a few precious, quiet moments.

It was worth it to one day feel like this.

“Boys!” my dad calls, from downstairs. “Mrs. Keane made dessert, I have sampled it, and I can confidently say that it’ll bring tears. Come down and have some!”

I sit up in the bed, and Aiden does, too. We look at each other for a moment. He offers me a hand, and I take it. We move together out of the room.

It’s not until we’re halfway down the stairs that I realize we didn’t speak a word out loud to each other, not once that whole time.

It’s strange. I feel like so much was said.

~~~~

“Your mom’s cooking is mind-boggling, man, and I’m saying that as a person who lives with Kent.”

“Yeah, Kent’s cooking is spectacular, too. That’s why I’m always over there.”

“Huh. I thought it was to see me. At least partially.”

“Nope. Purely for the jerk chicken. And once there were jerk chicken paninis. My life changed forever that day.”

Aiden laughs. He’s snacking a handful of leftover blueberries. My mom made two pies: a big one, and then a mini one with no strawberries, for Aiden. He’d made her very happy by informing her that he could have eaten a full-sized version all on his own.

I steal one of the blueberries from his hand. I’m sitting on the kitchen counter, and he’s standing next to me, so it’s easy. He tries to grab it back, and I pop it into my mouth before he can.

“Where did your parents go, by the way?”

“They’re out in the garden. They have a sort of - nightly tradition thing, I guess? They always have coffee together at the outside table after dinner."

Aiden sets down the rest of the blueberries, walks to the window, and looks out.

“Oh. Yeah, there they are.”

“Mhm.”

“Aw - Jamie, come look.”

I hop down from the counter and join him at the window. My parents are both sitting on one side of the table. My dad has his arm around my mom’s shoulder, and she has her fingers curled around his. They’re talking quietly. They’ve got a blanket spread out across their knees: defense against fall’s deepening chill.

“Look at what?” I ask, glancing between Aiden and my parents.

“How they’re so-” He hesitates. “I don’t know.” Another silence. I wait, give him time to figure out what he’s trying to say. “It’s only that - my parents... It’s just nice to see that it can happen, you know? That after all this time, your parents can still be so…”

Oh. I think I get it.

“Yeah, man.” I thread my fingers through his again. “It can happen.”

He looks down at me, a smile in his warm blue eyes.

“We probably shouldn’t keep spying on them, huh?”

“They’re gonna come back inside any second now, so... yeah, probably not.”

Aiden startles me by grabbing me up off the ground, striding back to the counter, and setting me down where I was before.

“There we go.”

“You idiot! You could have-” I cut off as he moves to stand between my knees. I’m seated sort of far back on the counter, so it’s not really a sexual thing, more just - closeness. He fixes me with that smile again, and my mind blanks on all of the objections I have lined up. I find myself smiling back, tracing my hand down his face. “Stupid,” is all I manage. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, okay.” He leans forward, and I tip my face towards his for a kiss -

The garden door opens, and my parents step inside. Aiden turns, sees them, and freezes, one hand still on my knee.

“Oh my goodness, Mary,” my dad says. He loops an arm around her shoulders, grinning widely. “Look what we’ve just walked in on.”

“Dad,” I groan.

“Are you two together?” my mom asks, beaming. “I never thought I’d live to see the day that Jamie actually brought someone home!”

“Mom, please, I’m begging you-”

“I’ve been waiting to say this for a long time,” my dad announces. He turns to Aiden and attempts a serious expression. “Young man, I have to ask you about your intentions with my son.”

“Oh my god, holy shit.” I jump down from the counter, my face burning. Aiden, on the other hand, is about as pale as the warm color of his skin will allow. “I think we’re gonna go sit in the garden now, actually! You guys can stay in here!”

“We’re going to have this talk at some point!” my dad calls after us, as I shut the door.

I lead Aiden to the swinging bench in the tree, push him into it, and sit down next to him.

“Okay, so that was mortifying. I’m so sorry. Are you-? You look…”

“No, I’m okay,” Aiden says, pressing a hand over his heart. “Wasn’t - prepared, I guess. Especially not for that conversation with your dad. I would need time to think about what to say, I’ve never been brought home to the parents before. Not - not like this, I mean.” He pauses. “And you - you’ve never brought anyone to meet them?”

“I mean, they know all my friends, and… well, no. Yeah, no. Not like that.”

“But you’ve brought me here a few times, now. Before and after we started seeing each other.”

“Yeah… Guess I have.”

Aiden smiles, a little color returning to his face. “Hmm.”

I hear the door open again. We both turn to see my mom step out into the garden. She spots us and makes a beeline for the swinging seat. The temptation to grab Aiden’s hand and run for the edge of the lawn seizes me, but my mom is speedy when she’s in a hurry. She would catch us.

She stops right in front of us, a little out of breath, her bright red braid swinging around her shoulders.

“Oh, Aiden, sweetheart! I’m so sorry if we put you on the spot back there. We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She holds out a hand to him. Aiden hesitates, then takes it. “We just got so excited - you’re such a nice boy, and it makes us happy to know that Jamie would choose someone like you. Someone with a good heart.”

Aiden blinks up at her, opens his mouth, and doesn’t find anything to say.

“Mom, it’s alright,” I tell her, and she shakes her head, still clasping Aiden’s hand in both of hers.

“No, really. I want you to know that you’re always welcome in our house, Aiden, and that Marcus and I - you’ll have to forgive us if we’re a little - overenthusiastic.” She closes her eyes, her nose wrinkling as she thinks, the same way mine does. “There’s a verse that I know says something about this - from - Proverbs, I think-”

“Oh, mom, please-” I begin, but she stops, opening her eyes as Aiden squeezes her hand.

“Thank you,” he says.

My mom smiles. She doesn’t drop his hand, but rather offers it to me, and I take it from her. Aiden folds his fingers around mine, and my mom beams at us again.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. Whew! Okay.”

“You’re alright, mom!”

“Goodness. I was worried - okay.” She takes a breath. “I’d better start cleaning up. You two come in when you feel like it.”

We watch through the darkness as she threads her way across the garden, careful not to step on any plants, and vanishes back into the house. I can tell that Aiden needs a minute, so I let us lapse back into silence.

The trees whisper around us. The old chain that holds up the swinging seat creaks softly.

Eventually we’ve been quiet long enough that our heartbeats have synced up. I can feel it in the place where our wrists are touching.

“Aiden? Are you-?”

“I think I’m gonna tell my aunt about us. And tell her that you know - that you know about me, what I can do. How I’m different.”

My breath stills completely.

“Are you sure?”

He holds my gaze for a long moment, then leans over to kiss me.

“Yes,” he murmurs, burying a hand in my hair. “Yes, I’m very sure.”