It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2) (20 page)

I watch her, the hurt feelings scratching at the surface. “I’m not big on meaningless apologies.”

I can feel my barrier breaking, the tattered and worn being inside becoming more exposed. Part of me is desperate to hide from her prying eyes. This doesn’t happen to me, but being around her is like staring at the sun. It hurts, but I can’t seem to pull myself away from its magnificence.

“You’re right. I promise, only nice guy Aiden from here on out,” I say, even though my gut is telling me to push her away, I can’t stop myself from trying to keep her close.

I notice the tension in her body begins to ease. “Oh, I haven’t met him yet. That should be interesting.” She looks at me with a sly grin that makes my insides do a somersault.

I laugh, shaking my head. “I deserved that.”

She glides into the space next to me and starts to tell me all about her relationship with the car mechanic named Ben. They met in college, and he held countless firsts for her. Though I keep my tongue in check, I can’t seem to keep my emotions even.
Is this jealousy?
I’ve never even met the guy, but somehow he has a piece of Kenzie that I wish I had.

“You can seriously tell me to shut up at any point,” her statement breaks through my thoughts.

“What?” I ask.

“I’ve been going on all night about my ex-boyfriend. My problems must seem so small and insignificant to you.”

I cock my head, scratching my chin, before asking, “What would make you say that?”

“Are you kidding me? Jumanda told me how you helped the Bushmen.”

I laugh. “While I wish I could take credit, I was a college kid at the time. I had no idea what I was doing. It’s not like I ever thought anyone would listen to me.”

“But they did.”

“I wasn’t the only one trying to help them,” I insist. “And just because there are injustices in the world it doesn’t make matters of the heart unimportant.”

“No, but it puts things into perspective,” she says softly.

“I suppose.”

I stare at the ground. Her feet are next to mine. They fit next to me like they’ve always been there, walking next to me, sharing one life. I keep my eyes focused on the spot of dirt on my shoes, afraid if I look at her under the light of the stars I might try and kiss her.

A lump forms in my throat when I feel her hand take mine and pull me gently toward the fire. The dancing has ended at some point during our talk, and now friends are gathered around, laughing and speaking in a language that while neither of us understands, it’s still so clear. “Come on, I want to take some pictures.”

I follow, spending the rest of the night trying not to get caught while I sneak glances of her smile.

H
IS EYES CLOSE TIGHTLY, HIS
head jerking toward the driver’s side window. He hasn’t said a word since he got behind the wheel. I try to remember what he said this morning. It shouldn’t be hard since it was only a handful of words. Last night he seemed so warm and welcoming, but today he’s the same distant and cold Aiden.

I look at him, desperate to fill the silence. “So will we see Jumanda again?” I ask, surprised he wasn’t joining us on the trip back to the city.

“Huh?” he breathes, shaking his head as if he were shaking off some sort of fuzziness. “Oh, maybe. I guess we’ll see after we comb through the images we got.”

“What about the SUV?” I ask, searching for anything to keep the conversation going.

He narrows his gaze on the road in front of us. “What? This isn’t Jumanda’s.” he laughs at the idea. “I rented it, and he just picked it up for me.”

“Oh.” My answer is short. What else can I say? It’s obvious he’s not interested in anything I have to say. Perhaps I was caught up in the excitement of the dancing last night, but I could have sworn he was watching me. I roll back into the bucket seat, dropping my hand to my side. My breath catches in my throat when I realize his hand is already there. Our skin connects. I don’t pull away, but neither does he. Instead, we both look at anything, but each other, hands touching.

What does this mean?

I feel his warmth. He must know we’re touching.

Does this mean anything?

Do I want it to mean something?

Me:
I’m still waiting for you to call me, where are you???

I send the text, waiting impatiently for Annabelle’s reply.

Minutes pass.

Me:
???

Annabelle:
Putting baby down for nap, call you in just a second.

I wait for what seems like the longest two minutes of my life until the phone finally rings. Swiping my finger across the glass face of the device, the words begin to spill out of my mouth.

“Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me this is just the rebound rollercoaster I’m feeling. I mean it can’t be anything real, right?”

“Whoa,” Annabelle starts. “Slow down. Take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”

I collapse onto the hotel bed, inhale a deep breath as she instructed me to, and push it out with my eyes closed. “I must be crazy.” I nearly whisper.

“Let me guess, Aiden?” she asks.

“One minute he’s a complete douche-canoe to me and the next he’s the sweetest guy. And I mean really, I don’t even know this guy, why on earth would I care if he’s a jerk, right?”

Annabelle laughs softly through the phone. “Because you like him.”

I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “No, I can’t. I just broke up with Ben. It’s impossible for me to like someone else.”

“Like how it was impossible for me to feel something for Holden?”

“No, that’s not even the same,” I insist. “He was like freaking prince charming. Aiden is Mr. Socially Awkward. Oh God, but then he will say things that make me think he sees the world the way I wish I could.”

“Did he kiss you?” she asks eagerly.

“What? No!” I exclaim. “I mean, I kind of thought at one point last night he might try.”

“Would you let him if he did?”

“God, no!” I gasp. “I mean … I don’t know, maybe.”

Slamming a hand against the mattress, I moan in frustration.

“Do you enjoy being around him?” She asks me.

“I do,” I admit reluctantly.

“Then I say get to know him more,” Annabelle’s advice shocks me.

“What about Ben?”

“You said you were done with him. Are you?” she presses.

“Of course, I am, but isn’t it a little soon?” I ask, part of me hoping for her approval.

“I’m not saying run away and get married, just spend some more time with the guy and see what happens.”

I squeal. She laughs.

“I love you,” I manage to squeak out.

“Is there anything else exciting happening?”

“Oh hell, I was freaking out so much about Aiden I almost forgot to tell you. I took a bunch of pictures and Aiden said he would take a look at them and let me know what he thinks,” I add.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what got into me. I just grabbed one of the spare cameras and started snapping away. You know, I think I might be pretty good at this. I got some great pictures of some of the locals. It was amazing. I wish you could see some of them.”

“Send them when you can, okay?” she requests.

There’s a knock on the door. I jump upright just in time to hear Aiden’s voice.

“Oh crap, it’s him at the door!” I exclaim in a loud whisper.

She’s laughing again. “Well, answer it Miss Photographer!”

“I’ll call you later,” I offer.

“You better,” she replies before we hang up.

I open the door, and his blue eyes flicker at me. This isn’t the cool and distant Aiden; this is the one I got to have a meaningful conversation with just last night. He drags a hand through his hair before smiling at me. “I’m sorry, were you busy?”

He’s looking over my shoulder as if he’s expecting to see someone. Realizing he must have heard me talking to Anna, I giggle.

“Nope, just got off the phone.”

“Oh,” he breathes, his chest deflating as his smile disappears.

“It was the friend from England I told you about,” I add.

“Anna, right?” he asks, seeming to perk back up.

It feels awkward standing in the door opening, but I can’t help feeling it would only be more uncomfortable if I were to invite him into my room. “So, you were listening last night?”

“To every single word,” he confirms. “Is she okay?”

I find it curious that he would assume people only call when something is wrong. I nod. “She’s just checking in to make sure my new boss wasn’t some sort of international serial killer, preparing to chop my body up.”

“I wait until at least the third gig before expanding your job description to include murder and mayhem,” he jokes.

“Good to know,” I chime in, wishing I understood the reason behind his hot and cold exterior.

“Speaking of third jobs,” he laughs, before pausing.

“Uh-oh,” my eyebrows lift apprehensively.

“I promise, it’s nothing too sinister.”

“Wait, are you seriously offering me more work?” my mouth drops open as I realize at least part of him is serious.

Aiden fidgets for a moment, his head dropping and a foot swiftly kicking the door frame of my room. “I mean, I was thinking about it, but now that I know you and your friend think I’m a murderer.”

I shove him in the arm, ensuring the pressure with which I do so would be considered playful. “Stop it. Are you serious?”

He nods. “I took a look at some of your shots—”

“And you’re never going to let me borrow your camera again,” I blurt sarcastically. Why do I always head off compliments with sarcasm?

“Well, if you’d let me get it out,” he continues, glaring at me. “I think you have a great eye.”

“Did you get the files I sent over with some of the edits I suggested?”

“I did,” he nods. “I can see you’ve been doing your research. I want to be completely honest with you. I may not be the best teacher, I lack patience, I know I can be moody, but if you’re interested—”

He stops abruptly, nibbling a moment at his bottom lip as he turns and looks down the long empty hall of the hotel.

“Really? Why would you do that for me?” I ask, swelling gratitude aching inside my chest.

“Oh no, let me be straight with you, I have nothing but a selfish motive. There are plenty of jobs I get where a second camera on the job would be helpful. If I hire someone who already has the knowledge, it would cost me a fortune. All I—I mean—you—” he stammers.

I lean in close, a smile from ear to ear. “You like me.”

He laughs, taking a step back. “I suppose you’re fine.”

“Yup, you like me. Don’t worry, people can’t help it. It’s my magnetic personality.” I boast, puffing my chest out.

“That must be it,” he’s laughing again.

“Well, I guess that leads me to my proposal,” he stiffens, his face growing more serious.

I wave my hands, shaking my head. “Whoa, whoa, I don’t know what you were thinking, but just because I agreed to work with you more, I never said anything about marriage.”

His face turns at least seven shades of red, his lips pressed tightly together. I slam him firmly in the arm this time. “Hey, calm down, I’m just joking,” I exclaim.