Page 90 of Pretender

Yet… I’m frozen.

I can’t move. I can’t speak.

I want to say something, I really do.

It’s so clear in my head. The image of me telling Aiden that I’m freaking out, because I got a stomach ache from watching him with Katrina.

I picture telling him that I feel so much lighter when I’m near him, and it’s when we’re together my days have the most meaning.

And that it’s terrifying.

Speak, Linnea.

Heat prickles behind my eyes instead. Fuck.

I close my eyes and my traitorous tears escape, but I wipe them away before they make it too far.

“Linnea,” Aiden breathes, and I expect him to ask what he did, say I’m too sensitive, whatever it is. Or he’ll just go.

Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I can smell him through the onslaught of the London street fumes. His warm, kind of spicy or smoky cologne mixed with something just Aiden. He’s still here.

Just here.

Like he was in Florence.

Like he has been today. Every step of the way.

Opening my eyes again I stare straight into his. His brow has a crease in it and I want to rub it away.

“Don’t worry.”

I’m surprised by my own voice. What I wanted to say to him actually came out.

He steps closer and puts his hands on my upper arms in that soft way I’ve come to like. His hands are warm on my skin, and it’s soothing.

“Sorry,” I start, but shake my head, and the softness of his touch disappears. I don’t want it to. “Aiden, I…”

What am I about to say?

We’re blurring the lines. I think I like you. I’m scared to make another mistake.

“I’d love to grab some food, actually. Shall we walk?” I gesture up the road alongside the palace.

That works too, I suppose.

His eyes search my face and I press my lips together in a way I hope is reassuring. He does the same, that pleading look in his eyes from before ebbing away.

“Okay. Let’s walk.”

We stroll in silence for a minute, but I sense him glancing at me in between. I want to make him smile again. The kind that makes his whole face light up.

His leather shoes make a thudding noise with each step.

“Have you ever walked around London before, or does Mo drive you everywhere?” I ask, daring a glance at him. His head is tilted up towards the trees lining the palace-side of the road, and he sighs, turning his focus back on the street again.

“I’ve walked around most of Mayfair, if that counts.”

“No,” I say and we share a laugh as we wait to cross the red road outside Buckingham Palace. It’s teeming with tourists in front of the building, so we stay as far to the right as we can.