“Hey,” he greeted me.
“Hello,” I responded, my eyes trained on the professor.
“Can we talk?”
I motioned with my head. “Class is about to start.”
“After class?”
The lecture started and I didn’t have to answer. We were supposed to give our feedback about our character sketches, and I’d forgotten all about what I’d written until Aiden handed mine back to me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About everything.”
“What’s your feedback for me?” I asked, trying not to get sucked into the puppy dog eyes he was giving me.
“Your writing is brilliant.”
I rolled my eyes. “I need tangible feedback to improve.”
“I think you’re brilliant and beautiful,” he said earnestly.
“I’m not going to fail this assignment because you decided not to do the work.” I pointed to my paper. “What do you think? What is your feedback?”
“I think it’s raw and honest. The character is sympathetic and likable. I’d want to read a story based on her.”
“Do you think that’s going to be the next assignment? Do you think he’s going to make us write a story based on the characters?”
He nodded. “It would make sense if he did. Especially since we’re supposed to be portfolio building. If he does, are you going to talk about what happened in yours or are you going to make it up?”
“I’m going to tell the truth.” I stared him down. “I think the truth is important.”
Aiden didn’t speak much for the rest of the class. But when it was over, he looked at me as if he’d been thinking about what he was going to say the entire time.
“Brooklyn, can we talk?” he asked as I gathered my stuff to put in my bag.
“I thought you said everything you needed to say on Sunday?”
“No, I didn’t. Because you ran off then, too.”
I glanced around the room and folded my arms over my chest. “Yes?”
“I went to the police.”
My eyes widened. “When? What did they say? What happened?”
“Can we go somewhere private and talk?”
“Yeah.”
We silently walked to the parking lot. When we approached a sleek two-seater sports car, he slowed down. “This is me.” He opened the passenger door.
“I have my own vehicle.”
“Please.”
“Where are we going?”
“Not far.” He held up his hands. “I swear I’ll have you back in no time. I just don’t want anyone overhearing our conversation.”
I sighed and climbed in. Part of me got in the car because I wanted to know what happened with the police. Another part of me got in because I was curious about what that kind of car could do. I put on my seatbelt.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I’m not going to a restaurant with you,” I responded with a shake of my head. “That’ll just end up in the next email exposé.”
He started the car and let out a short, humorless laugh. “Or in some sort of tabloid.”
As I studied his profile, I uncrossed my arms. “That must be hard.”
He pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward the main road. “I’m grateful for the life I’ve been afforded,” he responded through clenched teeth.
“That didn’t sound rehearsed at all.”
He exhaled audibly and glanced at me. “Don’t get me wrong, there are perks to having the parents that I have. The money, the opportunities, the lifestyle. I’m grateful for everything they’ve ever done for me. But the downside is stuff like this.” He paused. “They’ve always refused to let me live my life in peace.”
“Your parents?”
“No. The press, society, Hollywood. I don’t know. Everybody,” he answered.
We were both quiet. I thought about how it felt when everyone was staring in class, watching my every move. “I can’t even imagine living my entire life under a microscope like that.”
“It’s fucking exhausting.” He stopped at a stop sign and looked at me. “Do you want to grab a burger and a shake from a drive-thru?”
My mouth fell open and I touched my belly. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah.” A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. “We’ll grab something quick in the drive-thru so I can talk to you. I just don’t want to talk on campus.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “But start talking.”
He took a right, heading to the fifties-style diner close to campus.
“My lawyer got in yesterday, so I went to the police station with him. I told them everything. I told them that neither of us were drinking so there were no lapses in time. We were in the basement”—he peeked over at me— “getting to know each other better.”
“Is that how you phrased it?”
“Yeah.”
I blinked. “That could mean anything.”
“I guess so…” He kind of shrugged. “It was me, my lawyer, and a detective. I probably could’ve just told them we talked and kissed, but I didn’t want it to seem like a party hookup.”
There was something sweet about his explanation. But I didn’t want to linger too long on that. “What happened after that?”
“I told them how we heard yelling and screaming. I warned you about how rowdy they could get when they were partying. I left you down in the basement when I went upstairs.” He pulled up to the drive-thru menu. “A number one with a chocolate shake?” he guessed.
“Strawberry.”
He looked impressed. “Nice.”
Once the voice crackled through the speaker, he placed our order. We sat in silence as we approached the window. I didn’t want to run the risk of any of the workers seeing me, so I turned my back to the drive-thru window. I stared out into the
