Hate Me (32 page)

“Earth to Keatyn,” Aiden says, startling me and making me realize he’s now standing directly in front of me.
 

“Oh, sorry. I was kind of stuck in a memory. My dad used to like that song,” I say, smiling as the singer continues to croon.
 

I close my eyes again and savor it.
 

Aiden pushes my chin up, so I open my eyes. “Tell me.”

“Every summer, I go to my grandparents’ ranch in Texas. When I was little, my dad went with me. This song, I remember him singing it in the barn. Us dancing. Him telling me he loved me and would miss me on his trip. It was . . . um . . .” I take a deep breath to steady myself. “It was
the
trip. The one where his plane went down . . .”

Aiden caresses my face. “What did your dad do?”

“He was a mod—,” I say without thinking. “A, um, moderator. He worked for my grandpa.”

“Oil and gas? Like your mom?”

Shit. I can’t remember what I told him my mom does. What if that’s not what I said? Shit. Shit. Shit.

But why would he say that unless it’s what I told him?

Then I remember telling him about possible oil in the Ukraine.

I take in a deep breath and change the subject. “Wow. That smell is killing me. Can we eat soon?”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay to just tell me.” He smiles sweetly and kisses me. “And, yes, we can eat now.”

During dinner, he toasts. “To your amazing day. Winning first place in your small group dance. A team third place. And your first successful screen test.”

“And to a fun weekend,” I add, winking.

“I’ll toast to that.” We clink glasses and sip our wine.
 

After a cozy dinner at my kitchen island, he says, “Let’s go upstairs. We can watch a movie or something.”

There’s a little smile playing on his lips and his eyes look sneaky. Kinda like they did the day of my speech when he gave me the glass clover for luck.
 

He holds my hand as we walk through the living room and then gestures for me to walk up the stairs first.
 

He’s totally got something up his sleeve.
 

But when I get to the top of the stairs, I can barely believe my eyes.
 
 

In the corner, all lit up, is a gorgeous Christmas tree strung with the prettiest pastel garland and topped with a silver star.
 

Tears immediately spring to my eyes as I stare at it. The Christmas decorations have been up in our dorm for a few weeks, and Katie and I strung some lights around our window, but it’s just not the same.

This makes my loft look and feel even more like home.
 

“It’s beautiful.” I turn around and throw myself into his arms.
 

He hugs me, kisses the top of my head, and says, “I thought we could decorate it together.”

“Did you get ornaments too?”

He untangles himself from my arms, goes behind the tree, and sets shopping bags down next to the coffee table. “You have to open each one. They all kind of have meaning.”

“Really? What kind of meaning?”

“You’ll see. Open them.”

I sit on the couch next to him and open the first box. It’s a beautiful, brightly-colored blown-glass fish. “It’s so pretty!”
 

“What do you think it means? For us?”

I think about it. “Um, we ate fish in St. Croix.”

“True. Think some more. When did we see pretty fish?”

“When we went snorkeling!”

“And what happened when we went snorkeling?”

“Your back got sunburned?”

“And how did you try to help me with that?”

I laugh and grin. “So, you’re telling me that this fish reminds you of the shower?”

“Yep,” he says with a naughty little smirk. “That was fun.”

“I’m still kicking myself for giving you that washcloth to cover up with.” I lean over and give him a kiss. “I think you should put this one on the tree.”

I open another box and find a glass Ferris wheel. “Aiden, are all of these going to make me cry?”

He puts his ornament on the tree, then kisses me. “They’re supposed to make you happy.”

“I’m crying because I
am
happy. And because, seriously, this might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He gives me another kiss. Like our first kiss on the Ferris wheel. Perfectly amazing.
 

I walk over and put the Ferris wheel high up on the tree, just like we were when he kissed me at the top of it. Then I excitedly open another one. This one is an adorable piece of chocolate cake. “The peace offering?”
 

He nods.
 

“That cake was really good. And I like peace with you better than fighting.”
 

He gives me a steamier kiss this time, but I push him away after a few minutes. “I have a lot more ornaments to see! You need to stop kissing me.”

Of course, what does he do?
   

Gives me about ten more kisses.

I open a Santa, a nutcracker, and a nativity scene, which he tells me are just because it’s Christmas and every tree needs them. Then I open a Santa taking a bubble bath, the bubbles a pearly pink glass.
 

“Hmm. Let me guess. Our bubble bath. The one where you wore your swimsuit?”

He laughs. “Maybe after this, we’ll take a bubble bath without swimsuits.”

“I’m done opening ornaments for tonight,” I tease, putting this one on the tree.
 

“You’re bad,” he says, swatting me on the butt.
 

Which was probably the wrong thing for him to do, because it inspires me to jump on him, knocking him flat on the couch, and attack his face with sloppy kisses.

“Oh, ick,” he laughs. “This is going to take all night at the rate you’re going. No bubbles until the tree is decorated.”
 

“Fine,” I pout.

“How does that song go?
You better not cry, better not pout
?”

“Speaking of that, we need Christmas music playing.”

He takes a sip of his wine and then says, “You’re right. And we should turn on the fireplace.”

I jump up and down a little. “Yes. You do the fire. I’ll turn on the music.”

“Much better,” he says, pulling me onto his lap when we’ve both made it a little more Christmas-y in here. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“You,” I reply.
 

He gets a little twinkle in his eye. “Are you offering sex to Santa?”

“I have been kinda naughty.”

“Well, maybe if you’re a good little girl, you’ll get what you want.”

“I lied. I’m always good.”

He shakes his head at me. “Santa doesn’t like it when people lie.”

“Oh,” I say, thinking about the boatload of lies I’ve told this year.

He hands me another box. “Open some more, then we’ll put them on the tree. Otherwise we’ll never get to that bath.”

I stay on his lap and open a Santa in a sleigh, a Santa in New York City—since that’s where we are now—and a Santa that’s surfing—since I taught Aiden how. The next one is Santa driving an ice-cream truck with a big cone on top of it. “When we went for ice-cream? I’m surprised that’s something you want to remember, seeing as you got all pissed off at me.”

“All I remember is the sexy way you were licking the cone. Got me all hot.”

Then I open one of an adorable pink purse with little peace signs and hearts on it.

“
I fucking love you
. That’s what you told me when I gave you the purple purse,” he says.

“I was excited.”

“I know you love me.”

“I know you love me.”

“Still not ready to confess your love?” he teases.
 

“Apparently, neither are you.”

Next, I open a trio of colorful cowboy boots.
 

“Those might be my favorite, Boots.”

“I love them. Although when you gave me that nickname, I thought it was kinda dumb.”

“Dumb? I’m shocked. It was very original.”

“It’s still the name of the monkey on
Dora the Explorer
. I didn’t want to be a monkey. But now I like it. I like that it has meaning to both of us.”

He grins and hands me another box.
 

I look at the name of it. “The Sugar Shack?”

“Just open it.”

In the box is an adorable little gingerbread house covered with candy. “Hansel and Gretel got eaten there.”

“That’s supposed to be our mansion of love. Don’t make fun of it,” he says seriously.
 

“Oh. Well, then it’s adorable.”

The next one is The Three Little Pigs. “You’re on a roll. First Hansel and Gretel and now pork for dinner.”

“You’re silly. You know what it means.”

I get serious again. “It’s for a strong foundation.”

“Very good.”

I grab another box and find a sand castle—my castle on the beach—a Little Mermaid, and a Frog Prince.
 

“Oh, the Frog Prince is so cute.”

“I remember Damian said you used to make him be a frog.”

I hug him. Again.
 

Next, I open a Nutcracker prince.

“That was always my sister’s favorite ballet. I thought maybe since you dance, you’d like it too.”

“I love it. This will be the first Christmas that I won’t get to see it.”

He gives me his nearly-blinding happy smile.
 

“What?”

He tilts his head in the most adorable, aw-shucks way and pulls two tickets out of his wallet. “I got us tickets for Sunday afternoon.”

Which makes me start crying.
 

He wraps his arms around me. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I haven’t bought any presents.”

“But we’re shopping tomorrow, all day.”

“I just feel bad that I haven’t gotten you anything yet. And you did all this. All the thought you put into it.”

“Boots, my mom and I went shopping when you weren’t dancing. I got a bunch of clothes for my birthday and when we were walking out, I saw the huge holiday section and decided to buy you some ornaments. Then my mom asked if you had a tree. So I bought one of the fake ones. It came with the lights on it. All I had to do was put three pieces together, plug it in, and put on the garland.”

“But these ornaments. They all have meaning.”

“They had a large selection. Seriously, I was like
I want this one, and this one, and this one
. Twenty minutes, tops.”

“It’s still amazing, Aiden.”

He kisses me then murmurs, “I’m glad you like it. That’s all I want. To make you happy. Come on, open the rest. And don’t feel guilty. This is our tree. The story of us. And I have an ulterior motive. I want to be so far in your life that, come August, you’ll never consider anyone but me.”

It’s much safer to open another ornament than to discuss that, mostly because I don’t even know if I’ll still be alive in August.

“Awwww! Look at this snowman! His little stick arms are full of shopping bags! That’s adorable!”

“I like shopping with you. So, are you going to wear the gorgeous dress I found last time we went shopping to Winter Formal?”

“Yeah, I am. And I found the perfect shoes to go with it.”

“I can’t wait to see you in it.”

I can’t wait for you to get me out of it
, I think.
 

The next boxes I open are a cupcake with a clover on top, a mermaid Santa, and a seashell. “So the cupcake is just for the clover?”

“Uh huh.”

“And the mermaid—well, I guess technically he’s a merman—and seashells. Do those have to do with our wishes?” I touch the shell bracelet still tightly fastened to his wrist. “Are you ever going to tell me what you wished for?”

“Not until it comes true.”

“Hmm. Okay. What’s next?”

He hands me another box, this one containing a cotton candy machine. “Is this for the same reason as the Ferris wheel? Except we didn’t eat cotton candy together.”

“No, I dragged you away from Riley when he was licking cotton candy off your hand. So, no. It’s because your hair always smells like cotton candy.” He leans in and kisses my temple. “You always smell good enough to eat.”

I close my eyes tightly, willing away the heat I can instantly feel rising between my legs. I purse my lips and smile at him.
 

“You have a dirty mind. I like it,” he whispers in my ear in the low, husky voice that makes me melt.
 

“Well, maybe, a little.”

I open another ornament, this one a chapel. I think about how I spilled my guts to him. How he stopped during the game and asked me if I was okay. How sad it was when I planned on leaving him. I feel choked up again.