MORE THAN A FEELING

Chapter 7: The Heart’s Tailor

Friday arrived like a storm cloud over Cassian’s head. At school, he had to watch Marcus a tall, blonde athlete with a perfect smile approach Aria’s locker every hour. Marcus would lean in close, and Cassian would have to grip his books so hard his knuckles turned white.

But the real torture began after school.

Because their families were so close, and because Aria’s brothers were busy with a last minute board meeting, Aria’s mother had asked Cassian to drop off a custom dress at the Rosemont estate.

When he arrived, the maid led him straight to Aria’s massive walk in closet which was basically the size of a small boutique. Aria was standing there in a simple silk slip dress, looking at a row of designer heels with a look of pure panic.

"Cassian," she breathed, turning around. "Thank God you’re here. I can’t do this."

"You look... beautiful, Aria," Cassian said, his voice caught in his throat. He set the garment bag down, trying not to look at the way the silk hugged her curves.

"I feel like an imposter," she said, her voice trembling. "Marcus texted. He’s taking me to a rooftop gala. There will be photographers. I have to be the 'Perfect Rosemont' tonight, but all I want to do is put on your old hoodie and eat pizza on your couch."

Cassian felt a pang of longing so sharp it physically hurt. "Then do that. Tell him you’re sick. I’ll go get the pizza right now."

Aria gave a sad, small smile. "I can’t. My parents... they need to see me 'recovered.' If I stay home, I’m just the broken girl again." She looked at the dress he brought. "Is that the one? The midnight blue?"

"Yeah," Cassian said, unzipping the bag. The fabric was stunning, shimmering like the night sky. "It’ll match your eyes."

"Help me?" she asked, turning her back to him.

Cassian’s heart stopped. He stepped forward, his fingers shaking as he reached for the delicate zipper at the small of her back. His skin brushed hers just for a second and the "More Than a Feeling" connection surged through him like a live wire. He could feel her heart racing under her skin. She wasn't as calm as she looked.

"Aria," he whispered, his head leaning close to hers. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Not to your parents. Not to the school. Especially not to me."

She turned around slowly once the dress was secure. She was so close he could see the tiny flecks of silver in her irises. "I’m not trying to prove it to you, Cass. I’m trying to prove it to myself. I want to know if I’m still capable of being liked by someone who doesn't already know all my secrets."

"Anyone would like you," Cassian said, his voice thick with emotion. "That’s the easy part. The hard part is finding someone who deserves to even stand in your shadow."

The silence in the room became heavy, filled with everything they weren't saying. Cassian wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her until she forgot Marcus’s name. He wanted to tell her that the "secret" he was keeping was the only one that mattered.

The honk of a luxury car rang out from the driveway.

Aria flinched. "He’s here."

She grabbed a pair of diamond earrings, but her hands were shaking so much she dropped one. Cassian knelt down, picked it up, and instead of handing it to her, he gently brushed her hair aside and put it in for her. His touch was lingering, a silent plea for her to stay.

"Don't let him stay out too late with you," Cassian said, his protective side flaring up. "And if he makes you uncomfortable, or if he talks too much about himself, or if he—"

"I'll call you," Aria promised, reaching out to touch his arm. "You’ll be by your phone?"

"I’m always by my phone for you. I’m the 'Best Friend,' remember?" Cassian said, the words feeling like poison. "That’s what I’m for."

Aria looked at him for a long moment, something deep and confused swimming in her eyes. "You're more than that, Cassian. You know you are."

Before he could ask her what she meant, she turned and walked out of the room, her blue dress flowing behind her like a wave.

Cassian stood alone in the middle of her closet, surrounded by the scent of her perfume and the echoing silence. He walked over to the window and watched from behind the curtain as Marcus helped her into a silver sports car. Marcus put a hand on her lower back, and Cassian’s fist slammed into the window frame.

"He doesn't know you, Aria," Cassian whispered to the empty room. "He doesn't know that you hate sparkling water. He doesn't know that you have a tiny scar on your knee from when we fell out of the oak tree. He doesn't know how to love you."

Cassian sat on the floor of her room, leaning his head against her bed. He wasn't going to go home. He was going to wait right there until she came back.

He was going to be the one to catch her when the "perfect" night inevitably fell apart.