Can't Always Get What You Want (20 page)

“What’s he like?”

Samira butts in. “He’s dreamy. A bit too good-looking, if you ask me.”

“Do you mean too good-looking for me?” I tease, tossing a grain of rice at her. “He’s really smart, and funny. Tall, dark, handsome…”

“…and covered with tattoos!” Samira says.

I shoot a murderous glance at Sam.

“I know what you’re thinking. Trust me, I almost didn’t go out with him because he just looks like trouble. But once you get to know him, you’ll see that he’s really not that guy. Not one little bit.”

Mom raises an eyebrow.

“Since when was it a crime to have tattoos?” I say.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Mom says, laughing. “He sounds lovely. I’d like to meet him soon.”

I nod. I can see my future stretching out like a long road in front of me, my own personal happily ever after. Every time I picture that, it’s Aaron I see walking beside me.

—

“What took you so long?” I complain.

It’s a halfhearted complaint. The sting of not seeing Aaron at all today is erased mere seconds after our reunion. He’d been out with some buddies, quadding or dirt biking or something. I can’t remember which. All I know is that it involved getting dirty and jumping off of things.

We’re meeting outside the house he’s renting with friends. Wrapping his arms around me, he gently lifts me off the ground so our lips can meet. Even though the kiss is sweet and gentle, it makes my head swim.

“Can’t be away from me for one afternoon, can you?” he teases.

I regard his mud flecked T-shirt and arms. “You’re sure dirty.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, you have no idea.”

I really don’t have an idea of how “dirty” Aaron is. Not that I think sex is dirty or anything. Although I really have no point of reference. I’ve never…umm, well, it’s just never come up. (Insert crude erection jokes here.)

Aaron and I just haven’t got that far yet. But it will happen. How could it not? We’re young, in love, and his whole person just screams SEX!

“Shall we go in?” he asks, bowing low and motioning to the front door.

I giggle. “Sure,” I say. Before I take one step, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me into the house.

Naturally, wedding bells start chiming in my head.

Slooooow down, Soph. You’ve only been dating for a month.

Oh shut up, voice of reason. Let me enjoy my little fantasy.

He sets me down in the kitchen and ruffles my hair. “You hungry?”

For you, I think. Aaron’s muscular body glides through the kitchen. I have an incredible urge to mash him up against the cupboard doors.

“Well, our options aren’t looking good,” he says, crouching in front of the fridge.

“You could always go grocery shopping,” I say.

“I have the worst luck with grocery stores. The last time I went, some girl nearly broke my hand.”

“That was an accident!”

“There are no accidents, babe.”

He pushes his chest into mine, walking me backward until I hit the island. He gently cups my chin and tilts my face upward, meeting my lips with an earnest kiss.

Okay…If I don’t stop this now, virgin or not, I’ll take him on the kitchen floor.

I push him away, and blow out a puff of air.

“That good, eh?” he says, a smug smile on his lips.

“Oh, I don’t know. Average, I’d say. Mediocre at best.”

He looks amused. “Is that a challenge?”

“A challenge…for later,” I emphasize. “Let’s figure out supper first.”

I extricate myself from Aaron’s grasp, then search through the pantry. I select three things and settle them onto the island.

Aaron looks puzzled.

“Peanut butter…and
jam
?”

“Well, it won’t be fancy, but it’ll fill our tummies.”

He’s looking at me as if I just picked my nose and ate it.

“What?” I half laugh, while slapping peanut butter onto two slices of bread.

“You can combine those?”

“What are you talking about?”

He shrugs, eyeing the sandwich. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Are you serious? I grew up on this!”

I add strawberry jam, then cut the sandwiches into quarters. Aaron scratches his neck and wrinkles his nose.

“I dunno. Sounds weird.”

“Just try one. It’s good!”

He’s staring at the sandwich as if it’s poisonous.

“That is, unless you’re too scared to try something new…”

This gets his attention.

He takes a bite, cautiously cataloguing the flavors.

“What do you think?” I ask.

He takes another careful bite, and then inhales the rest of the sandwich.

“That was amazing! Does it only have to be strawberry jam? Or can I try other kinds too?”

I laugh, and wipe jam from the corner of his mouth. “Of course you can combine flavors. You can do whatever you want.”

Aaron eats three more sandwiches, and then suggests we go for a walk.

The cool October air pinches my cheeks. We stroll aimlessly through the streets, hand in hand.

“Are you flying back home for Christmas?” I ask. Aaron’s parents still live in Ontario, and I’ve been dreading Christmas break with him gone.

He frowns. “No.”

I bite my lower lip, feeling more curious by the second.

“It’s no big mystery, Red. No big sob story. We just don’t get along.”

I smile at the nickname he gave me on our first date.

“I wish you’d tell me about it,” I say.

“I dunno, they’re just…” he says, running long fingers through his hair, “…hard to be around. I suppose the best word to describe them would be ‘conservat
ive.’

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re good, fine people. But, I always felt like I couldn’t breathe around them. There was never any room to make a mistake, to let my hair down and just be me.”

He runs a hand through his hair again. “I started to rebel a little in my early teens. Bending the rules. Little things, like staying out past curfew, or listening to music they didn’t like.”

I nod, listening very carefully. This is the most he’s ever talked to me about his family.

“I went off the rails a little bit, once I graduated and moved out. Partying, drugs…women. Got all these,” he says, gesturing to his arms. “I felt so lost. I tried a thousand different courses at university; nothing seemed to fit. I was starting to feel like a loser fuckup, with no future. Just a big fat disappointment to my parents and everyone else.”

I squeeze his hand.

“And that’s when I sat in on a few linguistics classes. Something about it just clicked with me. I know it sounds weird, but it was like I’d finally found my calling.”

“I envy you,” I say.

He squeezes my hand. “You’re only in your first semester. You’ve got plenty of time left to figure it out.

“Anyway, now that I’m in my final year,” he continues, “I think I’ve finally made it clear to my parents that I’m serious about this. I’ve tried to explain it before, that I will have job opportunities afterward, not just a ‘nothing’ degree.”

He’s trying to mask it, but I hear his voice quavering.

“I still think they’re pissed at me for not being in a career that they would have chosen. ‘
It’s not practical
,’ or so they tell me,” he says.

“What are they like?”

“Dad’s a military man. He got out a few years back with a great pension. He’s a good man, but very hard. Very strict.”

“Do you look like him?”

“Mmm, maybe in height, but that’s it. Otherwise I take after my mom. Her family was originally from Martinique.”

Ah, so that explains the darkish skin tone. It’s so lovely, like polished bronze. I can easily picture having his little caramel-colored babies.

“Mom is quiet, and a very hard worker. Has strong opinions.”

“Well, they’d probably love to see you for Christmas.”

He groans. “That means I’d have to spend a week away from you. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless I just take you with me.”

“I think my parents would kill me. Maybe next year,” I say, trying to sound casual (although I feel like jumping up and down with joy).

“I told my mom about you today,” I say.

“Really?”

I go over the events of the afternoon, making sure to emphasize all the funny bits.

We’re quiet for a moment, but it doesn’t feel awkward. The air between us always feels electric and alive, like we’re speaking without words.

“If you could go anywhere in the world this very moment, where would you go?” Aaron blurts out.

A cold wind picks up. “Somewhere warm.”

“It’ll probably snow soon,” he says, looking up at the sky.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still in flip-flops-and-shorts mode. I’m not ready to deal with snowdrifts.”

Aaron chuckles. “Okay, somewhere warm. Anywhere in particular?”

I shake my head. “So long as it’s warm and I can lie on the beach with a drink in my hand, I’ll be good.”

“I want to spend some time in Turkey next summer.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that you’d like to work there. Get involved with the anthropolo
gists and stuff.”

“You remembered?”

“Of course! It was one of the first things you told me about yourself. I remember everything about that conversation.”

Did I just reveal too much there? I look down at my shoes.

“Would you want to go with me?”

Did he just invite me on a trip…to
TURKEY
?

Do I even want to go to Turkey? What do I even know about Turkey? For all I know, it could be named for its popular trends in turkey farming.

“It fits your criteria,” he explains, grinning. “It’s warm, interesting, and you can sip drinks on the beaches of the Mediterranean Sea to your heart’s content. And, if you go with me, I’ll be able to translate for you. It’d be amazing, Sophie.”

I bite my lip and think. Is this a good idea? We’ve only just met, and we’re both so young. I’m sure hormones and youthful ideals are coloring our judgment.

And yet…

I picture exotic marketplaces, Aaron speaking foreign languages, and having sex on the beach.

I’m sold.

“That sounds great,” I say. “Maybe we can stop in Morocco too. I’ve always wanted to go there. I saw a documentary on it once, and want to see their spice souks.”

“Deal. It’ll be fantastic! Sophie, there is so much I’d love to see with you. We can tour the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, and the Pammukkale hot springs…”

He prattles on excitedly about all the things we can do in Turkey. I have no idea what he’s talking about half of the time, but his enthusiasm is contagious.

And really, it doesn’t matter where we’re going.

I could probably go with Aaron to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, and still have fun.

And that’s saying something.

“So, your birthday is next week,” Aaron says.

“Yes.”

“Any plans?”

“Not yet. Might see my parents over the weekend, but that’s about it. Why?”

Aaron stops walking. “Because I want to keep you all to myself.”

“What are you planning?”

He shakes his head, and his hair flops over his brow, making him look impossibly cute.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep me around until next week so you can find out,” he says.

“Pfft, just until next week? I want to keep you forever.”

I slap my hand over my mouth, and feel my eyes widen.

Did I really just say that out loud? I’ve thought it a million times, but have never,
ever
told Aaron that before.

Isn’t that typical crazy girl behavior? Falling too hard and too fast, and then making the mistake of telling him that you’ve been doodling your future married name all over pieces of scrap paper.

I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

“Do you really mean that?” he asks. His pale green eyes are wide and hopeful, and he’s biting his lip.

Hmm…how bizarre. It’s almost like he’s surprised by what I’ve said, like he can’t believe his ears, and is nervous about how this will play out.

How is that even possible? Aaron is amazing. A million other women would be more than willing to take my place. How could he ever be surprised that someone wants him?

“Yeah. I do,” I whisper.

“Oh, Soph,” he says, closing his eyes. He almost looks pained. “Do you know how happy that makes me? You’re it for me. When I look at you,” he says, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger, “I see forever.”