Inks and Pixels (18+)

thirteen

"Fine. No Taylor for two weeks."

"Deal."

We shook on it. As I was about to let go, Aiden tugged at my hand and gestured back to the living room.

"Have you checked out the TV here? It's glorious."

Was he inviting me to Netflix and chill? He didn't let go of my hand, tugging me off my stool and into the living room with him. It wasn't until I was sat, center-seat in front of the expansive cinematic set up that he let go, plopping himself down on another sofa seat to my right.

"What's your poison?" he asked as the TV blared to life, nearly blinding me with how bright and animated the colors on the huge-ass screen were.

"Uh."

He flicked through the options on Netflix, waiting for me to tell him what to pause on.

"That."

Zodiac.

Aiden turned to look at me over his shoulder with just his forehead and eyes visible from how low he was on his sofa.

"Seriously?" He seemed to hesitate before adding, "Don't you want to watch something more...uplifting?"

"I actually love watching horror and true crime when I have a bad day. This one's a classic. Come on, play it."

He continued to stare at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes, his uneven eyebrows questioning my sanity on behalf of the words he didn't say before he turned back to face the screen, muttering a little something to himself that I couldn't catch.

I made myself comfortable in my seat, letting the day's worries float away as I watched the impeccable performances of the star-studded trio of Jake, Mark, and RDJ transport me to a world of crime and terror.

Maybe Aiden was right. After all, finding comfort in serial killers as entertainment? Perhaps I should consider therapy or a new Netflix genre.

We were more than halfway through the movie after that skin-crawling, terrifying scene with Jake Gyllenhaal when we remembered the lasagne. We'd totally been absorbed by the movie playing out to process the ding of the oven.

It was only after another embarrassing one of my stomach's large rumbles that Aiden fell off his sofa seat—whether in concern for the lack of food in my system or the lack of leads by the detectives, I couldn't figure.

"Dinner?" he'd asked, hopping back to his feet with a little bit of pink in his cheeks and too much bravado, like he hadn't just fallen on his ass a second time in front of me.

"Yes please."

Without further ado, he fastened his pace to the kitchen. I started to uncurl from under my comforter and get up but Aiden's "keep your ass put" wasn't one I wanted to argue with.

Before I knew it, I was served an aromatic, and very generous, portion of lasagne with some herbs sprinkled on top and a side of garlic bread I hadn't even known he was making.

I blinked at the plate, accepting it quietly from Aiden who didn't mind my silence, sitting back on his sofa with a plate (and a much smaller portion) of his own.

I eyed the baking tray.

"You cooked for both of us right?"

"Mainly for you," he said through a mouthful of his own food already. "I had an early dinner with EJ."

I stared back and forth between the lasagne I was holding and him. He'd spent over an hour in the kitchen whipping this up...for me?

"T-thank you," I stuttered, slowly carving out a small bite for myself. Aiden waited until I took a bite and let out a sinful moan of gratitude before grinning. A full-dimpled, ear-to-ear smile.