As I thought, the days leading up to Sunday fly by. I’m in a strange mood the entire week, flitting back and forth between nerve-wracking anxiety and wild hope. Every time I get distance from Aiden, I start pulling at the loose threads of my confidence, like I’m determined to unravel it.

But every time I see him, every time he touches me or smiles at me or calls me his Companion Plant, my heart leaps into my mouth. See? it says. He loves you, too.

It’s going to be okay, because he loves you, too.

Then I get some space from him, and all my worries come crashing back.

I brush off our plans with excuses about feeling tired, which I honestly am. I’ve had too many sleepless nights. What little sleep I do get is filled with dreams of Aiden. I toss and turn until the movements make my sheets hot, even though the temperature is dropping lower every day, and my bedroom is cold.

I thought I should try to avoid spending time with Aiden, beyond what’s necessary for Ghost Office practice. I don’t want him to catch onto the raging internal battle I’m having, because if he asks me what’s wrong, I can’t lie to him about it.

But it quickly becomes obvious that staying away from him is impossible. I only succeed two times, the whole week.

Every night, I tell myself I won’t go over there, I won’t see him - and every night I lose the battle. In fact, trying to stay away makes me want to see him even more. It makes me think of what life will be like if this doesn't work out. Me, without Aiden.

I end up desperate to touch him, hold him, convince myself it’s not going to go that way.

The pent-up need always drives me right back to his place, walking there like I’m in a fever dream, and Aiden’s voice, his smile, his hands on me - that’s the only thing that could possibly break me out of it.

I put in a fucking herculean effort to act normal around him, but my feelings are revealing themselves in unexpected ways.

For example.

It strikes me that if Aiden freaks out and disappears when I admit that I love him, then these perfect moments we spend together, tangled up naked in his bed or mine - there won’t be any more of those. This week could be my last opportunity to be with him like that. Some subconscious switch flips in my brain, informing me that if this is the case, I need to make every single time unforgettable.

So I work my tongue over his body until he melts beneath the heat of my mouth. I caress him everywhere, with my lips and hands and my own body. I tease him into oblivion, coaxing all kinds of sweet noises out of him, make his muscles vibrate with pleasure under my touch.

Memorizing everything. The way his toes curl when I do that thing with my tongue. The feeling of his glossy chestnut hair wound up in my fingers. How he looks with his head thrown back, breathing hard, his cheeks turned that burnt scarlet.

I keep us going until we’re both dizzy, until we’re both intoxicated and useless and barely able to get up out of the bed. Aiden responds enthusiastically every time I drag him back to me for more.

It ends up being helpful in more ways than one. Aiden might have noticed that something is weird with me this week, but instead he’s all smiling and happy, humming to himself as he gets ready for work in the mornings, smoothing his hand through my hair over and over again when he thinks I’m asleep.

However, it also produces a secondary and unexpected side effect. I feel closer to him every time, and therefore more and more afraid of what might happen if things go wrong.

I recognize this, but I can’t stop myself.

“Fuck, Jamie,” Aiden pants, after a particularly fun hour spent in his bed.

I know what he means. We still haven’t gone farther than we did at the Ghost Office, not yet, but it absolutely doesn’t matter.

I climb up to join him, and he rolls onto his side to face me. Red-cheeked, out of breath, his eyes dazed and his pupils overtaking most of the blue in his irises. He trails his fingertips down my arm.

“What did I do to deserve that, little demon?”

His voice has dropped to that husky rumble, the way it only gets when we’re alone together like this.

You made me fall in love with you. It’s your own fault.

Aiden’s body is far from the only thing I’m afraid to lose. I keep closing my eyes to savor every huffing laugh. Rereading every cute thing he texts me. 

Lingering in his bed, taking deep breaths of that vetiver scent.

~~~~

On Saturday night, I go out onto the porch and stand for a few minutes in the cold.

Aiden joins me. His chestnut hair is tousled, soft lips a little swollen, the blue of his eyes still fiery and smoking from what we just did.

“Everything okay?” He wraps his arms around me, then presses his nose to the nape of my neck, warm hands skimming down the front of my body. “Your energy has been an interesting flavor, all week.”

Fuck. I forgot that Aiden can hear me. My energy is giving me away.

“Interesting how?” I ask, to deflect the question.

“I don’t know.” Aiden drags the tip of his nose over my skin, following the curve of my shoulder. “I’m not an empath, I can only understand the broad strokes. Your energy is too complicated for me to understand, right now.” He gently bites down on my neck, then places a kiss in the same spot. Goosebumps roll down my spine. “You could help me out by telling me what you’re feeling.”

I could probably help myself out by doing that, too. At least then I’d have an answer. But I’ve made it this far, and there’s a reason I wanted to do this at my parent’s house. I need Aiden to be as comfortable as possible. I want him thinking his own thoughts, speaking his own words, not getting confused or derailed by other people’s.

“I feel like I want to go to bed,” I tell him. It’s true, and it’s punctuated by a well-timed yawn.

Aiden knows that this isn’t really an answer to his question, but thankfully, he doesn’t push me.

“Bed it is, then,” he says, and pulls me inside.

~~~~

Sunday is bright and clear, unseasonably warm. The autumn leaves drifting down from the tree boughs catch the light bouncing off of cars and windows. The earth eats up the sunshine, turning the ground warm in that way you can feel against your feet.

I have a shift at the shop in the afternoon. I go home afterwards, take a shower, and get dressed carefully. I find my favorite flannel, where I’d forgotten it on my desk, and pull it on. It’s a comfort thing, and I need all the grounding influences I can get today.

Kasey watches me, sitting on my bed with her legs crossed at the ankle.

“You alright?” she asks. “Something going on?”

I haven’t told her. Telling Noah was helpful, maybe even necessary, but - no one else should know before Aiden does.

It’s pointless to even attempt lying to Kasey, so I glance at her over my shoulder, then turn back to my mirror.

She watches me for another moment, then hops out of my bed and takes a longer look at me. I expect her to ask a follow-up question, but she doesn’t.

“Wear your black t-shirt beneath the flannel,” she says. “It looks good on you, and the fabric is nice and soft. I think Aiden likes it.”

Of course. I don’t need to tell her. I should have known that Kasey would understand exactly what’s going on, anyways.

I cast her a grateful look, and silently reach for the shirt.

~~~~

My mom is in a good mood today, and it definitely shows in her cooking. She sets out a beautiful, colorful spread of food on the outdoor table. We sit down right before dusk, and watch the sun sink down beyond the treetops. The garden turns cool and dim, the trees casting velvety shadows. My mom lights some candles, so we can see to eat our dessert.

When the last of the apple pie is gone, we end up back in the kitchen. My mouth tastes like cinnamon and caramel, and I’m warm and cozy in a familiar place, with people I love. Some of the fear that’s been hounding me all week starts to retreat, letting me breathe properly.

I lean back against Aiden, who leans back against the kitchen counter. He’s chatting comfortably with my parents, laughing at my dad’s ridiculous jokes. He’s been here enough times now to start opening up, sharing little things with them, answering more of their questions.

“Well, Mrs. Keane,” my dad says eventually, “Shall we?” He picks out two mugs, then nods at the door to the garden.

“Too cold for that, my love.” She reaches up to pinch his cheek. “Coffee on the couch tonight, I think.”

“Sounds good,” he says, pouring some coffee into each mug. “You boys want any?”

“Decaf?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow. “Um. No.”

Aiden laughs. “Could’ve told you he’d say that.”

“Do you two want some apple cider instead?” My mom starts opening kitchen cabinets. “I can make up a pot really fast. Or we have some-”

“Mary, they’re fine,” my dad chuckles, taking her by the elbow. “Come on, into the living room we go.”

They disappear together, leaving me alone in the kitchen, with Aiden.

My pulse starts to race. This is the perfect opportunity.

I tip my head back, so I can meet his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hello,” he says, smiling down at me.

“If my parents aren’t going to the garden, we could. Do you want to hang out on the swinging seat? I know it’s cold, but since you have the body temperature of an active volcano-”

“Alright, alright,” Aiden laughs. “Yeah, that sounds nice. We should get our jackets, though. And where’s your flannel?”

“Oh,” I say, realizing, “I forgot it upstairs. It was warm out, earlier.”

“I’ll go get it. It’s in your bedroom, right?”

“Mhm.”

Aiden releases me, pops a kiss onto my nose, and heads off towards the stairs.

I’m secretly grateful for a moment alone before I do this.

I stand at the kitchen counter with my eyes closed. Reaching for whatever inner calm I have, gathering up my courage.

I don’t realize how long Aiden has been gone until I blink, look down, and check my phone. He definitely doesn’t need this much time to just grab my flannel. I pad up the stairs after him, concerned. Maybe he can hear someone in trouble?

I find the door of my bedroom open, and step inside.

Aiden is sitting on my bed, silent, motionless. The flannel is on the comforter next to him. He has both elbows resting on his knees. One hand pressed over his mouth, the other holding - a crumpled piece of paper. His head is tipped forward over it. I can’t see his expression, but I know exactly what he's looking at.

My heart stops.

I’ve been so distracted, I forgot about it completely. Didn’t even hear the papery crunching sound when I was putting my clothes on. But Aiden must have heard it, when he picked up my flannel just now.

The whole poem is written out on that paper. And what did I write at the bottom?

Aiden, I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you.

It’s all right there. In my handwriting.

~~~~

I stand there in the doorway, frozen.

When I can breathe again, I step inside, shut the door after myself, and lean back against it.

At the click of the closing door, Aiden looks up, blinking as if he’s just been pulled out of a dream. His wide eyes find mine through the semidarkness. His face is blank, impossible to read.

His fingers tighten around the paper.

“Jamie?”

He says it so softly and quietly. He’s a quiet person, but I’ve never heard his voice sound like that before.

I have no idea what my face is doing right now. My hands are pressed flat against the door behind me, and my heart is hammering so hard that I almost missed hearing what Aiden said.

We stare at each other for a long moment. It feels like we’re both holding our breaths.

Slowly, I cross to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. I look into his eyes, then fold my fingers around his free hand. He doesn’t move to hold me back.

When I finally say something, my voice is shaking.

“Would you believe me, if I say that I was planning on telling you tonight?”

“Telling me,” Aiden repeats, like I’m speaking a language he doesn’t know very well.

I falter. My heart is going wild, my cheeks heating up at a rate that Aiden would probably tease me about in any other situation.

But I feel it so deeply, right now, looking at him.

I keep my gaze right with his, and give his fingers a very gentle squeeze before I speak.

“I love you, Aiden.”

He stares at me. I search for some kind of positive or negative response in his expression, but he just looks stunned, more than anything.

“I’m sorry,” I begin, “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Aiden says, so forcefully that I startle and lean back. “Don’t-” His voice softens again, then goes hoarse. “Don’t say you didn’t mean it. Please don’t say you didn’t mean it.”

“No, oh my god, no!” I was trying to stay calm and collected, but I revert to my usual speed of talking pretty much instantly, and my eyes betray me by starting to fill up. I blink it back ferociously. “That’s not what I was going to say at all!” I forge on, my voice breathless and stumbling. “I was going to say that I didn’t mean for you to find out like this!” I gesture at the note, still held tightly in his hand. “I do mean it. I’ve been saying it at your back every time you walked out of a room for like, weeks. And I was in love with you way before I even started doing that, only I didn’t - understand what it was, or know how to deal with it, because I’ve never...”

I fade off, desperate for his expression to change, for him to give me any kind of indication of what he’s thinking. He’s still the perfect picture of blank shock, even though he managed to get a few words out.

“Aiden.” I let go of his hand and touch my fingers to his face. I half expect him to pull away, but he sits still. I make a concerted effort to slow down, speak more clearly. “I would have waited forever to tell you, as long as you needed, but - I can’t. I mean literally, I can’t. I need you to know.”

Aiden stares at me, then down at the note, then back at me again.

Oh, no. Why won’t he fucking say something? Is it because…?

“You don’t have to say it back,” I tell him, my heart sinking.

This, of all things, gets a reaction.

Aiden lets out a short, sharp laugh. He takes his fingers from mine and runs his hand over his face. “I don’t have to say it back?”

He falls silent, then looks into my eyes again, biting his lip.

“Jamie…" he says, very softly, "I’ve been in love with you since I was like, fifteen years old.”

Now I’m the one staring at him.

“What?” I stammer, but before I can even begin to process that, something catches my eye from my peripheral vision. I twist to look around at my bedroom.

It was dim in here, before. Only the moonlight and the faint glow of my bedside lamp to see by. But now...

The air is spangled with Aiden’s magic fireflies. Only he didn’t carefully work them out of his palms, like normal. They’re simply appearing, gathering together out of nothing, all around us. Shimmering and glittering, even more beautiful than I remember them.

The whole room is gently glowing golden.

“Aiden,” I whisper, spellbound.

I turn to look at him, and find his blue eyes wet, but his smile radiant.

“Sorry. I’m just - really happy.” He strokes his thumb along my jaw, then leans to press his forehead to mine. “I spent so long chasing after you. I never expected you to turn around and love me back.”