You Will Be Mine

The next couple of days were an emotional roller coaster,

and Aiden had me wired like a damn ticking time bomb. After school, like

clockwork, he'd wait by my car for a ride home. Every day. You'd think that was

a good thing, right?

Wrong. I couldn't tell if he actually liked me or if I was

just convenient transportation. We barely interacted during school hours, not

even a wave across the hallway. Just those fifteen minutes in my car—talking,

laughing sometimes, but still... distant.

And honestly, it was messing with my head.

How I managed to survive like that for days without

exploding? No idea. Pure willpower, maybe.

Then, one day—just like all the others—we pulled up in front

of his building. I was waiting for the usual "Thanks, I had fun," before he

hopped out. But he didn't move. He just sat there, staring down at his hands

like they had answers he didn't want to face.

Then he looked up.

"Hey… you wanna come up to my apartment?"

My heart stopped. Either I was hallucinating or I'd gone

completely deaf. Did he just—

"I mean," he added quickly, "It's okay if you don't want to.

Maybe some other time—"

I unbuckled my seatbelt before he could finish.

"Let's go."

That made him laugh. Like, actually laugh. Not the little

huffs he usually gave, but a full-on, from-the-chest laugh.

And it was perfect.

Maybe we'd finally have a real conversation. Maybe I'd get

to ask him out—or maybe not. Whatever. All I knew was, I was finally going into

his world.

And damn it, I wasn't going to mess this up.

_ _ _

The elevator ride up was... weird. I stood there trying not

to freak out while Aiden leaned against the wall, hand on his backpack strap,

eyes focused on some invisible thing across the metal doors. I pulled out my

phone and pretended to scroll, just so I wouldn't get caught staring—but of

course, I still snuck a glance. Just a little one. From the side, his face

looked like it was carved with purpose. Calm. Distant. Beautiful. And there I

was, falling apart beside him, trying not to combust.

When we got to his apartment, he kicked off his shoes,

tossed his keys in a tray like it was a routine dance, and looked back at me.

"Come in," he said, casual. I followed, quiet and half-numb.

The place was small but cozy as hell. Warm-toned lights. A

soft couch with mismatched cushions. A low coffee table covered in a few books,

a cracked mug, and what looked like a hand-painted coaster. It smelled faintly

like cinnamon and soap and something else—him. It was a mess, but it was him.

And I loved it instantly.

"I'm gonna change real quick, you can wait here," he said,

disappearing into another room.

I nodded and muttered, "Oh, alright," like a damn robot.

He left, and I sat down slowly, as if I was afraid to mess

up the air in the room. My eyes scanned everything like I was trying to

memorize it. Download the full layout of Aiden's life. I hugged one of the

cushions to my chest and froze—it smelled like him. Aiden. Up close. Real. I

could cry.

Twenty minutes passed and then he came out.

And oh, God.

He had on a loose black t-shirt that hung half-off one

shoulder and a pair of white shorts. His hair was damp, long strands clinging

to his cheek, towel slung over his neck. He was multitasking—half-drying his

hair, half-putting on the shirt—and that's when I saw it.

A flash of his torso. Tight abs. Defined lines.

I nearly died. I actually choked on air.

The guy was walking poetry and apparently had a damn

six-pack to match.

Aiden noticed my dumb staring and raised an eyebrow. "You

wanna use the shower?"

My mouth moved before my brain. "I—I don't really have

anything to change into."

"I've got spare clothes that might fit," he said casually,

already heading back to grab them.

I wanted to say no. I really did. But two very unholy thoughts

popped into my head: one, the shower probably still smelled like him; and two,

I could wear his clothes. HIS. CLOTHES.

I jumped up like I'd been summoned by divine intervention,

yanked off my shirt and blazer, left my pants on, and headed straight for the

bathroom. He laughed, like a genuine, bright laugh. "You can be so funny

sometimes, Isaaq."

I grinned over my shoulder, not trusting myself to say

anything without combusting. I got in the shower and that's when the final

emotional bomb dropped—I started imagining him joining me.

Yep. I got hard.

Pathetic.

Thank God for the running water. I dealt with the situation

like a man at war, cleaned up, and got out quickly. Aiden had left a clean

towel for me—because of course he did. He's considerate and perfect and I hate

him.

I dried off and slipped into the joggers he left out. They

fit like a second skin. Snug in all the right places. I looked at myself in the

mirror and nearly laughed.

Well, what'd ya know?

I looked good in his clothes.

And I was one step closer to completely losing my mind over

this boy.

As I turned around, toweling the last bit of dampness from

my hair, I froze. Aiden was staring at me.

Dead-on.

I blinked, unsure if he'd been watching the entire time I

changed into the joggers. His face was unreadable—blank, expressionless. I

couldn't tell if he was blushing or just… soulless. There was no hint of

embarrassment. No smirk. Just quiet, unnerving observation.

My dumbass mouth betrayed me.

"You enjoying the view?" I asked, forcing a cocky tone that

didn't match the storm brewing in my chest.

Aiden didn't say anything.

Nothing.

He just kept staring, and suddenly the air in the room got

thick, like I'd walked into a sauna of anxiety and regret. I scratched the back

of my neck, awkwardly shuffling to the couch and plopping down next to

him—close enough to touch, too far to feel safe.

I was ready to curl up and die.

Then—he laughed.

Not the shy breathy kind he usually let slip, but a real

laugh. Sharp, amused, almost cocky.

"For a tough guy, you're actually pretty easy to break," he

said, grinning.

I blinked. "What the fuck… you've been messing with me?"

Aiden burst into louder laughter. Like full-body,

head-tilting kind of laughter. I stared at him for a beat, completely thrown

off—then it hit me: the relief. The weird joy of seeing him laugh like that.

And the need to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

"Oh, you think it's funny teasing people, huh?" I growled,

launching toward him.

Aiden yelped as I tackled him, both of us laughing now as we

wrestled playfully. We stumbled off the couch, hitting the carpet with a soft

thud. I landed right on top of him, pinning his wrists with mine.

And then… everything stopped.

Our faces were dangerously close. I could feel his breath on

my skin. His laughter died off into a small, surprised silence. His eyes locked

onto mine, and suddenly, I wasn't laughing anymore.

Neither was he.

The world shrunk down to just the space between our lips.