Aquarium
1045 Words
Jaxon
“So, I figured you might not have been to one, and it’s way more—” I shrugged, tucking my hands into my pockets as she stepped ahead of me, staring in awe.
The glow in her eyes was unmistakable. It stirred something like pride in my chest—doing something that put that look on her face felt… good. Thrilling, even.
“Yeah. I’ve never been to an aquarium,” she said, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I had no idea there was one in this part of the country.”
My lips tipped up slightly as I fell into step beside her.
“Actually, this place isn’t open to students from our school,” I muttered, glancing at one of the dolphins swimming through the massive tank. “Something about a bad past.”
She paused and shot me a dry look.
“Please tell me you didn’t get us in here with fake IDs and that we’re not at risk of getting arrested if someone finds out.”
I huffed, running a hand down my face. “Jesus. You’re dumb.”
She narrowed her eyes, and for some reason, I found it amusing.
“You think I give two shits about my school ID? And why would you even think I’d present a school ID to them?” I asked.
She looked away, confused for a split second, before throwing her hands in the air and turning back to me.
“Then how are we here?” she whispered.
“Chill,” I said, pushing my hair out of my face. “I have a friend who works here. We’re good.”
She stared at me like she was trying to decide whether I was lying, which was ridiculous. I don’t lie.
Making the reservation had been tough—some money was involved because apparently money works better than words—but it was worth it.
She sighed. “Okay. But just so you know, if anything goes wrong, it’s on you.”
“Of course,” I said, giving her a slow once-over, a smirk forming on my lips. “I’d take the fall. No one wants to get a pretty girl in trouble.”
She blushed, looked away, and crossed her arms while staring at the urchins.
She looked gorgeous in that blue dress. Her hair was down—not in a ponytail or bun—and it framed her face perfectly. f*****g gorgeous.
The dress stopped just above her knees, revealing long legs and creamy skin.
And her face—she’d put on a little makeup. Just enough. It made me feel strangely giddy knowing she’d made an effort, even though she didn’t need to. She was beautiful without it.
I wondered how I hadn’t noticed all this before. Her eyes. Her lips. Her smile. The attitude—yeah, she had that, but so did I.
Probably hereditary. Adrian Voss was a jerk, my dad was worse, and I had no idea what either of our mothers saw in them.
“The dress looks good on you,” I said. “Have I told you that?”
She chuckled—this time not sarcastic. Just a soft laugh.
“Well, good thing,” she said. “I hate dresses. Harper lent me this.”
“Don’t give it back,” I muttered.
She shot me a look. “Did you miss the part where I said I hate dresses?”
I pressed my lips together. Touché.
“It’s a pity,” I said. “You make a pretty good Barbie in a dress.”
She rolled her eyes and moved to another section where small yellow fish swam in clusters—no idea what they were called.
“Barbie? The f**k?” she muttered, though I caught the smile before she wiped it away.
“So what’s with your opposition to dresses? You used to wear them.”
Her expression shut down immediately.
“Hey,” I added quickly. “You don’t have to answer that.”
She stared at the fish for a few seconds before speaking.
“Let’s just say I outgrew them. Found my style.”
I nodded and let it go.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” she said. “Considering you were—and still are—a huge douchebag.”
I chuckled. “I notice everything about you, Blue.”
I swallowed hard. Family dinners had taught me plenty—she hated steak like my mum, preferred mashed potatoes over spaghetti, loved that weird green matcha drink, hated coffee, and preferred tea.
It was pathetic how much I remembered.
She went still. Like I’d said something dangerous.
I touched the glass, and the fish swarmed immediately.
“How you like your tea,” I continued lightly. “Hate the neighbor next door. How you got depressed when you lost your necklace—”
I shook my head, laughing softly. She was a weird little thing.
“And how you’re still bad at climbing trees. You fell more times than I can count.”
Her bottom lip trembled. She bit into it and wrapped her arms around herself.
“So Aiden’s a spy now?” she joked weakly.
“Your brother tells me nothing about you,” I said quietly.
“Not creepy at all,” she muttered.
I frowned. “Hey. You okay? You look pale.”
“Yeah,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear. “I’m fine.”
We fell silent—and somehow it wasn’t awkward.
“You know,” I said, grinning, “my offer’s still up.”
She looked at me, searching my face. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly.
“What offer?” she whispered.
For a split second, her gaze dropped to my lips. I realized we were closer than before.
“I could still teach you how to climb trees,” I said softly. “If you want.”
She stared at me for another moment before her expression closed off.
“Well, it expired ten years ago,” she said dryly. “I’ll go check out the sea lions.”
She turned and walked away.
I watched her go.
Yeah.
We still had a long way to go.
- Writer
