14 - A Chance

14

A Chance

Isaiah

M y radar for Aurora's attention is as strong as ever.

I'm hyper aware of her eyes on me as I move around the kitchen. I can sense her tracking each movement. I'm aware now as we sit on the couch with plates on our laps. The TV is on, but I'm not paying much attention, not when she's sitting next to me.

Her glass clinks as she taps her nail against it, and my eyes flicker over again. Probably the fifth fucking time in two minutes. Aurora brings her glass to her lips, and I'm clocked on to her movement. The slow raise of the glass, the way her lips form to the rim—she's mesmerizing, and she doesn't even try. For me, all she has to do is exist.

My eyes find the gold ring on her finger—the ring I left for her. My pulse races. It might mean nothing. But I don't think it does.

"I know you always liked cooking, but when did you learn to cook like this?" Aurora is wide-eyed as she takes another bite.

"After I left," I say, swirling the drunken noodles. I take a sip of my own drink, which happens to be apple juice since Aurora didn't want to drink. "It became an escape, a way to take my mind off of everything. I had a lot of days when writing was insufferable, so I spent time cooking. I learned how to make everyone's favorite meals that I could remember. Tried new things. Whenever I needed to clear my mind, whenever I needed to be creative in a way that didn't require depending on my own inspiration, the kitchen was it. Found I really liked it, you know?"

"I'm happy you found something." She re-adjusts to sit cross-legged. Immediately, my eyes latch onto the warm, brown skin of her legs. They're strong and thick, and I can only imagine running my hand up and down the curve of her thighs, smooth skin under my fingertips. Tracing every dark freckle like constellations.

"Thank you for making me dinner," she says. Her curls cascade over her shoulders; her hazel eyes gleam under the gentle lights, and there's a softness to her face. A freedom on her features. The past few times we've seen each other, she's obviously been guarded. Those walls aren't gone, but she's at ease tonight.

I know she said friends; I know she's seeing someone. But I didn't come back just to be friends. If that's all she can offer me, I'll take it with open arms. It's more than I deserve.

But I've never stopped loving her. I never stopped being in love with her.

"You're welcome," I say.

"I was thinking we could watch the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie? It just came out, and I haven't watched it yet."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Do you remember—"

"That time we got drunk and decided to watch the cartoon for like six hours?" Her hazel eyes lighten playfully, long lashes brushing her cheeks.

My shoulders shake with a laugh. "It was fucking trippy. Remember you wouldn't stop talking like Raph for like an entire week?"

Aurora laughs. One of my favorite sounds then, one of my favorite sounds now. It's melodic and earnest, cheeky and full of life. "Oh, my God, everyone hated me," she says, still laughing with a small snort. I love it. I want more of it. "I kept it up at family dinner once, and Zaza and Kian thought it was the funniest thing in the world, and Sophia wanted to strangle me."

"And didn't you accidentally do it in front of a teacher, too? Or your coach?"

She almost chokes on her apple juice, cheeks turning pink. "Yes, holy shit. I think it was my high school coach, and I didn't do it to be an ass. It literally just happened, and he stared at me for a good five minutes in complete and total silence."

I run a hand toward my forehead, laughing. I remember picking her up from practice to go get milkshakes and her getting in the car and instantly bursting into tears.

"And every time anyone gave Leo a hard time, you just got so defensive."

I raise my hands. "All he wanted was to be his best, alright?

"Whatever you say." She grins. "Do you want more of the finest wine in the world before I hit play?"

I snort and finish my apple juice. "Sure, thank you." Aurora stands and practically glides into the kitchen, sliding over the hardwood with her socks, and returns moments later with two very full glasses. Our fingers graze when I take my glass, and I watch her rub her fingers together afterward as she sinks onto the couch.

It's impossible not to stare at her. No girl I've ever met has ever captured my attention the way Aurora has. No one has those hazel eyes or deep brown curls. No one has her heart or her humor. No one has ever come close to Aurora. No one ever will.

Her cheeks turn slightly pink, as if she's all too aware of the fact that I'm staring. I turn back to the movie and try to keep my attention there. And I do for a while—as we finish eating and emptying our glasses. Silently, I take each of our plates to the kitchen, and sitting there on the counter is the book I gave her.

My mind whirls with a million things. I wonder if she's read this version—any version—of the book. Has she seen the pencil scribbling in the margins? My thoughts, my edits, my changes, my notes. And not ones I made for me—that copy is entirely for her. I annotated it for her, wrote everything I was feeling out for her. I couldn't have stopped if I tried. If anyone opened it, they'd see clearly how much I love her. How much not being near her broke me a million times over.

A hand touches my shoulder. I spin, locking eyes with Aurora. "I haven't read it yet. Not that one, anyway."

I swallow. "You don't have to. I gave it to you because it's yours."

She fiddles with the ring and takes a minute to meet my gaze. Longing dances in her eyes. A feeling I'm sure reflects in mine. Outside, the sun has fallen and taken the heat with it. But it feels like it's inside this kitchen, sparking between me and Aurora. A curl pops free from behind her ear, and all I want is to tuck it back. We're not touching, but we could be. If I extended my arm, if she stepped closer—the spark would turn to a flame.

Aurora exhales a soft puff of air. "It's not that I don't want to; I do. I have to take it slow. I'm reading them, but I'm entirely positive that when I open the one you gave me, I'm going to cry. I need a minute." Her lips curl up, but her cheeks pinken.

"I'll bring you tissues."

That gets a laugh out of her. "Thank you. I'll be sure to text you 911 the moment I turn the cover."

I pocket my hands, my eyes roaming over her again. Can I tell her that's exactly what I want? I want her to feel comfortable enough to call or text any moment for anything. If she laughs at something on TV, I want to know. If she cries, I want to know. If she's angry, even at me, I want to know. Because I used to. I used to know everything, and I want to know everything again.

"Now, come on. Let's do the dishes and finish the movie. Unless you think I have some chance of burning the kitchen down while doing that, too."

"If you managed to do that, I think you would deserve an award," I say, tapping her forehead and moving toward the stove. "I made you enough for leftovers."

"Isaiah."

"Don't argue. Just get over here and help me with the dishes." I hand her a dish towel and finish spooning the leftovers into a Tupperware container. Aurora grabs her drying rack and mat and places it next to the sink.

"I guess I'll just stand here and look pretty while you do all the hard work. Aren't I the best company you've ever had?" Aurora smiles cheekily, leaning against the counter.

I chuckle before turning on the water and grabbing the soap. The fact is, she is the best company I've ever had. She doesn't even have to try. As for looking pretty…my eyes trail over the column of her neck, over her shoulders, and down her arms. Her waist tapers and flares to her hips and accentuates her strong legs that my fingers itch to wrap around.

Well, I'd be happy for her to stand here and do that as long as she wanted.

After soaping and scrubbing, I hand her the first dish.

"How many tattoos do you have?"

I glance over. "Too many to count. A lot. Not enough."

She dries the second dish and holds her hand out for more. "Do you have a favorite?"

"A few, probably." The ones that come to mind are the ones that remind me of her. And the few I got for Elijah. "Most of them don't mean much. They were just nice to look at." I shake my hands off and point to the one I think of when anyone ever asks my favorite.

It's a playing card but with a single number inside—seventeen.

"This one comes to mind."

I watch Aurora's hazel eyes widen as she wraps her fingers around my forearm. Her fingernails are painted in a light pink, and they trace over the outline of the tattoo, her nail scratching lightly over the number in the center. A chill trickles down my spine.

"Isaiah, what…" Her voice turns scratchy. "What is this?"

I shrug, trying to act like the heat from her touch doesn't have all the blood in my body rushing south. Like my heart isn't accelerating rapidly at her tender touch. "It's my favorite tattoo."

"Don't be dense," she murmurs, but her eyes are watering.

"It is."

A tear falls down her cheek, and I reach up, wiping it away with my thumb. Her hold still hasn't loosened on my arm. "I don't have any tissues with me, unfortunately."

"You are so stupid." She wipes her face with the back of her hand before hitting my chest.

Aurora continues to examine my arm, and I wonder if she'll pick up on anything else. The small ones hidden within the larger pieces are usually the ones that mean something to me. My mom's initials and Elijah's. My favorite novel. Lines from some of my favorite poetry.

I watch her study me. Her fingers trace the fine lines tattooed into my skin with a gentle touch, so light I might've thought I was dreaming if I wasn't watching her. Her eyelashes are long and black, fluttering on her cheeks. She moves up my arm, pushing my sleeve up to see it all and then back down towards my wrist, and when her eyes widen, I know she's seen one of the others.

It's our birthdays over one another. May 30th for Aurora over September 30th for me.

"I think I hate you." Her voice is quiet and shaky.

"I suppose we should've saved the tattoo tour for another day," I say, trying to lighten the mood. Even though nothing is going to lighten how I feel about her.

Aurora turns those hazel eyes up at me, glistening with tears. "I'm never going to stop crying at this point."

I chuckle. "I'm really sorry. You should've seen me when I got them."

She hasn't let go of my arm, her thumb resting on the two dates. "When did you?"

"I got the dates on my birthday after I left," I say, chest tightening with the memories.

I was a wreck when I got the dates. Freshly eighteen and depressed because I was alone. Part of it was my fault, and part of it wasn't. Elijah was gone, my mom and I weren't speaking, and I walked away from the one person who understood me when I didn't understand myself. After that tattoo, I went home and slept for almost three days because I couldn't get out of bed and didn't care to. I passed my classes by the skin of my teeth. That whole first year was focused on dragging myself out of a hole I'd partially dug.

Her eyes soften when she hears all that I don't say. Clearing my throat, I continue, "I got the card after you graduated and started playing for the Royals. I remember looking at the current roster and hoping there wasn't already a player with the number seventeen so you could take it. And when your team photos were posted and you were wearing seventeen, I went and got it the next day."

"You looked me up?"

I raise a brow. "Aurora." Sure, I talked to Kian, but I never stopped following her career. Or what I knew would become her career.

"What?" she says, exasperated. "You might not have. I didn't."

"At all?"

Her thumb rubs against my skin where the tattoo is. "I did the first year, but you didn't post anything. After that, I assumed maybe you blocked me from seeing things or had new accounts. I don't know. And I was scared that if I kept looking, I'd see something I didn't want to see."

My heart pounds. "What wouldn't you have wanted to see?"

"Anything, if I'm being honest. If you posted and were happy, I would've wondered what I had done wrong. If you posted and were upset, I would've kicked myself." Aurora swallows, grip tightening on my wrist. "If you had a new best friend or a…girlfriend, I'm not sure I would've handled it well."

"Kind of like how I'm handling you seeing someone right now." I meant for it to sound light, but it falls flat, jealousy getting the best of me. Aurora sighs and lets go of my wrist. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" I run a hand over my face. "Can we forget that I said that?"

"Said what?" She smiles. But there's a tension in the air now, not as sharp as it has been, but it's there, slinking in the shadows. Aurora takes a deep breath and interlocks her fingers. "I love the tattoos."

My eyes rake over her. "I'm pretty fond of them, too." We stare at each other for a second longer. "I'll finish up the dishes if you want to get the ice cream out, and then, we can finish the movie?"

Aurora nods, and we descend into silence. I work through the rest of the dishes and clean the sink, wondering why the fuck I had to open my mouth. Around me, she skates through the kitchen, grabbing bowls and spoons, pulling toppings from her cabinets. I wipe my hands on a towel and turn to see her waiting patiently.

"Go ahead. I'm gonna run to the restroom."

Her slight smile falters, and I exhale, walking down the hall to the bathroom. I pass the door to her bedroom that's pushed open to see one of the stuffed octopi I got her years ago sitting squarely between her pillows. I pause, unable to tear my eyes off it.

I won that for her at a carnival. Even now, I remember how her eyes lit up, how her teeth pulled at her lip. I remember everything.

Eventually, I make my way to the bathroom and lean against the closed door. I need to pull it together. Tonight wasn't about anything else except her having me here. Fuck. I hate myself for even mentioning her seeing someone. I hate that deep down, I know having to settle for being her friend will wreck me. I hate that if that's the case, it will be my own fault.

But she's Aurora; she is my Aurora and always will be. The curve of her lips when she smiles at me, the twinkle in her eyes when I make her laugh, the freckles and the scars I used to have memorized—not to be a complete prick, but the thought of someone else discovering those things burns the anger red hot.

Even so, I know that I have to walk out there and act like being her friend will be enough for me. Because if that's what all this leads to, if she can only be friends with me, I'll suck it up and be her best friend again.

And I'll be happy with it, even if I'm not.

Halfway through the movie, Aurora's eyes start to droop.

From the moment I stepped out of the bathroom door, I pulled it together. Enough to eat our ice cream on the couch and fall into a sense of normalcy like we once had. The dishes have all been cleaned, including our dessert, and a candle is lit on the countertop. For the most part, her apartment is dark, aside from the soft white lights she's strung up and the glow of the TV.

And now, she's stretched out sideways on the couch, her sock covered foot brushing my leg. She rests her head in her hands, but every few seconds, her eyes stay closed for longer than before. Every time they do, my eyes fall back to her.

I carefully stand up when her eyes close and grab a blanket from the basket near the TV. Gently, I drape it over her legs and crouch down beside her.

"Aurora." I rub her arm until her eyes blink open.

She rubs her eyes. "I'm sorry. Practice was brutal today."

"Don't be. I'm glad I could come." I pull the blanket up further until it's at her waist, fingers quickly brushing her skin before I pull my hands back. "We can finish the movie another time."

A tired smile forms on her lips. "I would like that. I liked hanging out. It was nice."

"All you gotta do is ask, and I'll be here."

Aurora turns, facing me a bit more, her head resting on the arm of the couch now. "My next game is away, but the one after that, are you going to come?"

My blood heats at the hazy gaze of her eyes, and hope unfurls, even though it shouldn't. "Wouldn't miss it."

"You should know, Zaza insists on you coming with us to get ice cream the next time," she says, letting out a big yawn.

"She is your twin."

That gets a quick laugh. "Everyone seems to think so."

I pat her hip on instinct, not thinking anything of it. "I'll get out of your hair. I'm gonna blow out the candle before I go." I go to stand, but she reaches out, her delicate fingers wrapping around my wrist.

"Isaiah," Aurora says, her fingers moving in tiny circles on my skin. The way she says my name, half-asleep but with just as much importance, sends a chill down my back. "You should know, I'm not seeing anyone anymore."

My heart stops, and I think I stop breathing for a second. "Okay."

"I should've said it earlier, but I wanted you to know."

I shake my head. "You didn't have to tell me anything. But I'm glad you did."

"Me, too."

I don't know what it means—but at the same time, it means everything.

"Want me to do anything else before I leave?"

"No, but text me when you get home?" She curls further into a ball.

"Of course." My hands itch to reach for her, to tuck a curl, to run my finger over her cheek. Instead I stand, blow out the candle, and grab my things, pausing briefly at the door. "Goodnight, Aurora."

"Goodnight."

Her tired smile is the last thing I see, and her words pound in my head. I try not to get too far ahead of myself, that the timing is just a coincidence, that it just wouldn't have worked. But it's useless.

All I want is Aurora.

All I need is a chance.

And I think she just gave it to me.