Warm, golden light glowed from my bedside lamp. Snuggling deeper into the soft, pink blankets piled around me, I inhaled and exhaled slowly, deeply, and reminded myself again that I was safe. Alive.
Today would be the first day I ever missed class at OU. Doctor's orders.
"Ochem can wait," she said the morning after the accident, as the EMTs called it, handing me a stack of paperwork that included a discharge summary and notes to my professors. The only injuries I sustained were bruises on my hips and shoulders, and friction burns on my knees and forearm. I was lucky. Instinct—and kernel of information from a Shark Week special—told me to swim horizontally, allowing the lifeguard to ultimately save me from a watery end.
But even as I left the hospital, sat in Dani's car, and leaned on Sasha as we braved the stairs up to our apartment, my skin quivered from the cold rush of the ocean waves tugging, twisting, and turning me. When I closed my eyes, I was back, fighting against an enemy I couldn't name. Salt burned the tip of my tongue. My chest heaved. Panic crept into my blood like poison. If I didn't know any better, it could have all been a near-death hallucination, and I could wake up to the darkness of the ocean again.
A knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. Sasha and Dani crept into my room on feather-light feet, braced to leave if I were still asleep.
Sleep. Ha.
"Hi, boo," Sasha said softly. "How are you feeling?"
Sitting up, I winced. "Fine... I just got off the phone with my parents. They're flying in on Wednesday."
My parents, of course, were beside themselves when they learned of the accident from Dani. They knew nothing of the alcohol. Only that it was a beach-day gone awry and I was okay. I insisted they stay in California. We could FaceTime whenever they wanted. Arrangements were made with Magda and my professors to give me time to rest and recover.
Flights were too expensive. I knew, just as I'd known since I was little and heard my parents argue about money, they couldn't afford it. But Mom, with her sweetly soft voice, refused to believe a word I said until she saw me—her baby—whole and safe with her very own eyes.
"You haven't touched your soup, Aria," Dani scolded, grabbing the now-cold bowl of chicken noodle soup on the nightstand. The warm, dim light danced on the planes of her deep brown cheeks, and she tossed me her best attempt at a stern look. "You need to eat something. You haven't had anything since—since—"
The hot dogs we ate in the parking lot twenty-four hours ago.
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that the salt water left this awful taste in my mouth that won't go away. It's making everything taste like battery acid."
I hated the worry and exhaustion lining her face. Dani only left the chair at my bedside twice last night: once to call my parents and once to use the restroom. "You need to get your strength up, sweetie. You'll feel so much better."
Sasha nodded with agreement.
"How about..." I began. "We do Thai food? Watch a movie? Not that I don't appreciate the soup, Dani."
Sasha and Dani perked up.
"Say no more!" Sasha said, waving her hands. "I'll order! Dani, you come with me! And Aria! Pick whatever you want to watch. We should be back in an hour tops. Try to eat a small snack. No pressure. You know how busy Lemongrass Grill can be."
Their excitement was contagious. Grinning, I nodded my head and promised to find something great. With renewed enthusiasm, my roommates left the apartment in a berry and vanilla-scented tornado, and I fell back into my pillows, feeling lighter already.
My comfort food was Thai yellow curry. My comfort movie was Howl's Moving Castle. My comfort people were Dani and Sasha. They were exactly what I needed.
But as I climbed out of bed to grab my laptop, a sudden tightness in my chest rocked my body. What the hell? Gripping my chest, I paused, painfully aware of how hard my heart thundered in my chest.
Was I having a heart attack?
I wracked my brain. No pain in my extremities or jaw. I took a deep breath. No shortness of breath. My room felt humid and small. Was this lightheadedness or a headache?
Air. I just needed fresh air.
Shrugging out of my cardigan, I opened the window next to my desk and climbed onto the small balcony, the soreness in my body feeling like sharp needle pricks to my joints. Leaning against the railing, I let my head drop, the thump, thump, thump of blood in my ears and chest being the only sensations until, slowly, the rest of the world filtered in.
There was a car alarm in the distance. Somewhere behind it, the band practiced the alma mater. Three years at OU and I still didn't know the words.
"What's a girl need to do to get a break around here?" I asked no one in particular. For the first time ever, I was thankful my apartment was nowhere near the beach. Unexpected tears stung my eyes; I didn't hold them back. "God dammit." For the first time since the waves took me, I cried.
No one liked crying. But I learned a long time ago that the more you held back the tears, the worse you felt, and that crying was a way of letting go of emotions both comfortable and uncomfortable, so that the mind and body could move on. Otherwise, the pit in your stomach grew bigger until, one day, slowly and then all at once, it would swallow you whole.
"Hello?" someone said from below. "Are you okay?"
Sniffling, I scrambled back. "Yeah," I answered, embarrassed. "I'm fine."
"Aria? Is that you?" the voice said. No, not just any voice.
"I'm fine, Leo," I insisted. A beat later, he emerged from beneath the covered porch into the lush green courtyard. With Leo's height, the distance between the ground and my balcony felt like miles and mere inches all at the same time. For a moment, I wondered if the doctor did the test wrong and I did in fact have a concussion.
"Are you sure?" he asked, sunlight softening him with a yellow glow, his white-button up shirt billowing in the breeze. Resting my chin in my palm, I nodded.
"Yeah. I'm still...well...processing yesterday." When another batch of tears stung my eyes, I pretended to look at something over my shoulder, and waited for the moment to pass.
And then, at the sound of metal and wood scraping, I looked back to the courtyard and nearly tumbled back. Leo's labored breaths were followed by him climbing onto the overhang above the patio, jumping to his feet, and then carefully walking over to my balcony.
My eyes widened to disks. "Well, you've just proven the fact that if a serial killer wanted to climb onto my balcony and murder me, he very well could. So thank you for that."
Leaning against the railing, breath shallow, he asked, "You needed someone to prove that to you?"
"Sometimes ignorance is bliss," I huffed. "Now, I need to keep a gun under my pillow."
His eyes searched my face for any inkling of a bluff. And when he didn't find one, he leaned into the railing, oddly pleased, and said, "Well, I'm officially terrified."
"Good." I punctuated the word with a wicked grin.
Leo looked taken aback, like he was going to say something more, when his eyes landed on the nasty bruise on my shoulder, and the world went still. Wrapping his hands tight around the railing, Leo jumped over the metal in one fluid motion, and I stepped back, a mixture of excitement and worry flooding through me. Excitement because Leo was on my balcony. Worry because I didn't want to talk about the water or the hospital or the fuzziness in my head.
We stood in silence, gazed locked, and my mind raced. Dani and Sasha would be back soon. My stomach was growling. The familiarity of this scene made butterflies erupt in my stomach.
"So," he began. "Have you picked a life-changing romance yet?"
"I've been a bit preoccupied."
"Right..." His cheeks flushed. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I almost drowned," I said, shoulders slumping, a fresh wave of exhaustion tugging painfully at my nerves. Embarrassment deepening the crimson in his cheeks, Leo leaned in, his eyes scanning me from top to bottom, as though he could see in the invisible wounds, and frowned. "I'll be okay," I continued. It was the only option, after all. "I'm just exhausted."
A different exhausted from the perpetual exhaustion etched into my bones.
"Do you want to sit down?" he asked gently, and gravity pushed further into my aching muscles. "I can help you get back to your room."
I wrapped my arms protectively around my waist. Though the comfort of my sheets called my name, I didn't want to risk the tightness in my chest returning. It's not that I ever felt claustrophobic in my room—it was my solace—but I needed the vastness of the open sky, the crisp, fresh air for a few minutes more. Grabbing the tiny, pastel pink folding chair leaned against the railing furthest from the window, I sat down. "I'm good out here for now. I've been cooped up inside all last night and most of today, so some fresh air is needed."
A soft breeze ruffled my gnarled black curls. I didn't even want to think about how much it would suck to get the tangles out.
"So, about the romance novels," Leo began from his spot against the railing. He hooked one ankle over the other and rested both elbows against the metal to lean back in a lazy, comfortable stance that made him look even more attractive than he already was. "Do you have a go-to list? Like, Romeo and Juliet. Pride and Prejudice. Stuff like that?"
Everyone had a list. But not every list was for public consumption. Especially when two of the books on that list were epic fanfiction retellings. "Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy. Romeo was a player and Juliet was thirteen. There is nothing romantic about that. Besides, those books are classics. There's nothing wrong with a classic. They get those titles for a reason. But I want to pick something out of the ordinary. Something...newer."
"Like...?"
"I don't know yet." Running my fingers through my hair, I pursed my lips. "There's a lot of pressure to get it right, Leo. The fate of all the women on this campus depends on it."
Leo barked a laugh. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where did that come from? I did not sign up to be your reformed bad boy."
"You think you're a bad boy?" I teased. When he opened his mouth to argue, I snickered. "There you are making assumptions, Leo. I thought you hated that. I don't think you're a bad boy as much as you think I'm some delusional good girl."
Clicking his tongue, Leo shook his head. "Oh, Aria, I don't think you're a good girl."
The way he said it—low and gravely—sucked every bit of oxygen out of my lungs. My insides shrieked. My outsides might have shrieked if I didn't clamp my mouth shut the moment his words registered in my brain—and sent it short-circuiting.
Good girl.
I wondered how many times he said it. How many ways. In how many places doing God knows what. "Good to know," I squeaked.
"This, uh, girl I took to DTE's Spring Formal last year never stopped talking about her favorite books. She was trying to become one of those book influencers, so it came off a little forced at the time, but she swore she had a book for every mood." There was no judgment in his voice; only plain, simple facts. "She wanted to recreate a hot tub scene she read on the ride to the cabins."
"And?"
His eyes burned with the memory. "I learned that the bookish ones are the ones to watch out for. And a few other things."
Tell me. Tell me, dammit.
Glancing behind my shoulder, I nodded at my open window. "Well, like I said, I haven't decided yet. But, uh, do you want to come inside? I have a whole bunch of stuff in my collection—" At the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, I rolled my eyes, amending, "—of all genres! I still don't know what kind of books you like since you're not keen on telling me."
Ignoring the inquiry in my words, Leo pushed off the balcony railing and swept his arm towards the window. "Lead the way."
My heart began racing again. As I climbed through my window, the heat of Leo's form scorched through my leggings. The bruises made it harder to bend and twist, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when his warm fingers grazed my hips, guiding me gently, and I sucked in a breath.
Leo, in his white shirt and dark pants, was a comical contrast to the bright colors of my bedroom. His eyes floated over the lights and quotes above my desk, the neon sign above my bed shaped like a crescent moon, until they fixed on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in what was supposed to be my closet. (I'd strategically hung my clothes around the bookshelf and made use of my dresser quite well.)
"How many boxes did it take to bring all of your books with you?" he asked.
"Two. Half of them are overstock that Magda let me have. Others are gifts. I stored my stuff on campus so I didn't have to ship them from California. God knows I can't afford that." A nervous giggle. "I'm going to donate them eventually."
I didn't want to think about that inevitable, horrible day.
Crossing the room, Leo plucked a random book and flipped through the pages. A book about a planet of blue ice aliens and their human mates.
"Not that one!" I said, bristling. I had half a mind to try and snatch the book out of his hand if it weren't for the fact that the last time I tried, we ended up in a human pretzel. So instead, I simply flopped onto my bed and watched him leaf through the pages, ready to defend myself with sarcasm and jokes. "The book was a gag gift from my friend, Felicity. It's the first in a long series.
Leo flashed his teeth. "Damn."
"I know! I know!"
"I mean, fucking on a mountain does sound fun and all, but in a ski lodge not a cave."
"I like how that is what you're concerned about."
He stood in silence for a moment, engrossed in the chaos of the novel in his hands, and laughed, blurting strange lines and creative descriptors for the well-endowed barbarians. "Does Madga know these exist?"
"Probably. Don't let her adorable clothes and silly riddles fool you. She knows everything."
He contemplates my words for a moment and then nods. "You're right. It's gross to think about. But you're right."
I made a face. Gross indeed. Magda was too pure for this world. Too pure for a deviance that filled many bookshelves and tablets lately. "I have a cousin who goes to Belmont for Law School. She loves reading, too. Except for her, any book written after 1995 is not real writing. She's so pretentious. If you really want to set her off, all you need to do is talk about how much you love Fifty Shades of Grey or Twilight, and she'll go on this stupid rant about what is and isn't literature."
"What do you think?"
"I think if it's books on a page that a writer took their time and cared about, and there are readers out there who care about it, then it's literature. Plain and simple. Besides, who doesn't love Twilight? Ironically or not, it's a staple. You have to admire the cultural impact."
I didn't mention the fact that, like many Tween girls, Edward Cullen was eleven-year-old Aria's dream man. Partially because that's what I thought a dream love interest was supposed to be. Partially because I thought Robert Pattinson was the most beautiful creature on Earth until I was fourteen.
"You like vampires, then?" Leo inquired curiously, snapping the alien book with a soft thump and strolling around my room again.
"I do. All of them."
"There's many types of vampires?"
I slipped under my blanket and wriggled around to get more comfortable. "Oh, yeah. There's the type that sparkles. The type that blows up. The type that can cast spells and wield magic. The type that are born vampires and the type that are Made vampires. The list goes on and on. I've never read the original Dracula, but it's on my list. In fact, I think after Wuthering Heights leaves Paperbound, the next book to be displayed is a first or second US edition of Dracula."
"Now that sounds tempting." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Leo clutched a worn Brandon Sanderson paperback. "I've spent so much time reading for school, I can't get myself to read for fun anymore. I think it broke my brain. Over the summer, I suddenly decided I needed to read The Da Vinci Code to get me out of this three-year-long reading funk, and I threw the book out my window."
"What is it with you and windows?" I laughed. "And why The Da Vinci Code?"
A sheepish smile. "I saw the movie. I like Tom Hanks. I could barely make it past the first six pages. Seriously, I thought I developed ADHD or dyslexia or something."
I looked at the stack of textbooks on my desk, sympathizing with his struggle. Amit expressed a similar struggle. In the world of higher education, everything revolved around reading and repetition. Content that used to be covered over a week was reviewed in a single day. Depending on the class size, you were expected to read up to twenty pages, comprehend the jargon, and revise, revise, revise until it stuck like glue. It was hard to turn off.
"It's all about baby steps," I told him. "Your goal is a couple of pages a night. And then maybe a chapter. My friend, Amit, likes audiobooks. College rewires your brain. It's all about figuring out how to work with that rewiring, I guess."
Leo contemplated my words. "That's actually great advice."
"Thank you."
"Is that what you want to do? Work with the brain, I mean?"
It was a loaded question guised with harmless curiosity. My parents always told me that my goal was to become a doctor; no argument. The consolation was that I got to pick my specialty.
"I'm not sure," I confessed. I pushed that question deep into the back of my mind as an I'll-worry-about-it-when-I-get-there problem. "I enjoy my psych classes, so maybe psychiatry. I know everyone is supposed to say rural medicine in their admissions' interviews, but I like that idea, too. Neurology is so competitive, so I don't know about that one. What about you?"
"Cardiology."
"You sound so sure."
"I am."
I waited for him to say more, yearning for a chance to understand his motivations, so that maybe that confident desire would rub off on me. But there was finality to his words, and he punctuated the end of the conversation with another casual flip through the star-covered book.
"Can I borrow this?" Leo asked softly.
I sat up straighter. "Of course you can."
Those breathtaking dimples winked in and out of existence. "Thanks."
Something in my chest squeezed with longing. "We're getting Thai food and watching a movie," I said, suddenly, the words rushing out quickly. "You should join us."
Leo's lips parted with surprise and my stomach plummeted. "I—oh, I'm sorry. I—"
Embarrassment short-circuited my system. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did you have to do that? "It's okay! I thought I'd ask."
"I appreciate it, Aria, but—"
"No need to explain! I get it. I just thought—"
"It's okay." Leo scratched the back of his neck. "I should go."
"Yeah—! I mean, okay." Rising from the bed, I jerked a hand at my bedroom door. "Do you want to use the front door instead of the balcony?"
Before Leo could answer, the sound of the door creaking open ricocheted through the small room, and I whirled around to see Dani and Sasha standing in the doorway, a bottle of wine and three glasses in Sasha's hands, and a bag of food in Dani's, both girls wearing twin expressions of shock and confusion.
"Well, well, well," Dani said with smug amusement. "What do we have here?"
♡ ♡ ♡
I'm really excited about the small moments Leo and Aria will experience in upcoming chapters. As well as some not so small (and quite steamy) moments that are right on the horizon. What is the book that comes to your mind when you think of modern romance classics? What are your top three favorite romance tropes?