Leo

Due to the fact that Mom and Aunty Tenille have driven out to Vancouver to pick up the wedding dress and are spending the night in the city, Aria sleeps over at my place. I don't know where Kit is, but it's nice, for once, to have the house to myself and be able to spend some quality time with Aria in a bed that's comfortable. The trailer was great, giving us the privacy that we needed, but waking up in an air-conditioned space with the morning glow of sunlight streaming through the open window is a million times better.

Waking up beside Aria is blissful, but what's even better is sneaking out of bed and going downstairs to make breakfast for the two of us. Before meeting Aria, I had never thought much about how enjoyable something like this would be. But it is. It doesn't take me long to put together a breakfast that consists of toast, hash browns, poached eggs, hollandaise sauce, bacon, and some fresh fruit that's been chopped up. The timing is perfect, too. Because as soon as I'm finished, plates made, Aria saunters into the kitchen. I'm taken aback by the sight of her. Her face has been completely washed free of any makeup, her hair is a tousled mess, and she's wearing an old black T-shirt of mine that falls mid-thigh.

She looks so good that the piece of bacon I'm chewing on nearly falls out of my mouth.

"Morning," she yawns, rubbing the heel of her hand against her face. She points at the breakfast bar with her other hand. "I'm guessing this is for me?"

"No," I reply in my most serious tone. "It's supposed to be for my mom when she gets back from Vancouver. You're old enough to make your own breakfast, right?"

Aria gives me a look as she pulls one of the loaded plates towards her. "Ha-ha, very funny, Leo." I can't tell whether or not her voice is infused with sarcasm, but she is glaring at me, so I conclude that I've irritated her a little with my joking. 

"Note to self," I mutter, eyeing her carefully. "Don't poke the bear in the morning."

"Damn right," she replies through a mouthful of hash browns that have been thickly coated in ketchup. So much so that it kind of grosses me out. Ketchup is one of those condiments that's obscenely overrated and is only meant for burgers and fries and nothing else. Ketchup aside, there is a small smile on her face as she chews thoughtfully, enjoying the food. To be honest, it's one of the better meals I've cooked. I know how to cook, I just tend to make rookie mistakes, such as overcooking something or charring it too much. "Thanks for this," she continues. "I'm starving. Especially after last night."

I nearly choke on my toast. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get used to Aria's chirping. She's always going to be able to catch me off-guard. I take a sip of orange juice, clearing my mind of last night. To say Aria and I went through with our banter before dinner is an understatement. We did a helluva lot more than that. Things I never would have thought I'd do in my life.

"So," Aria says. "We have the day off today. Do you want to do the train wreck hike today or go kayaking at Alta Lake?" 

While I watch Aria practically devour her food, I contemplate the options. It's another stunning day in Whistler, with a guaranteed temperature above twenty-seven degrees Celsius and nothing but clear blue skies. It would be nice to go on a hike and get my legs moving again, but considering how sweaty we got on our trip to the cliffs, the kayaking trip piques my interest a little more. If we pack our bathing suits and some towels, we could probably find a beach to relax on. After the past week, I want nothing more than to relax.

"How do you feel about kayaking?" I ask through a mouthful of hash browns.

Aria, who, in the midst of all my staring, has pulled out her phone, doesn't reply to me. All her attention is focused on the screen, and there's a line between her furrowed eyebrows as he rapidly scrolls through whatever social media feed she's checking out. I don't see the point in investing time in social media feeds, but some people like to stay updated on what's happening in the world, and I can't judge them for that. This, though...This is slightly out of character for Aria. She's usually not so deeply invested in her phone. Clearly, something's bothering her.

"Aria," I say. "What's up?"

Several seconds of silence pass before she speaks. "Leo," she says, her voice a little shaky. Her blue-green eyes flick up to mine. "We have an issue. I'm sure I can get Izzy to fix everything, but, um, yeah. This is an issue." 

"What is?" I ask.

Hesitantly, Aria turns the screen to face me. I take the phone from her, a crease forming between my own brows as I stare at the blinding glow. It's a picture...A picture of me and Aria at the restaurant last night. It's been taken from a strange angle, but you can easily tell who Aria is beneath the dim lighting. At first, I don't understand why she's fretting over this. It's just a picture. It doesn't necessarily depict anything. Or, at least, that's what I think until I realize how we're positioned in the picture. This picture was taken the moment Aria had pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth. 

"Shit," I breathe, setting my fork down and glancing up at Aria. She's rubbing her temples, eyes closed. She looks alarmingly tense. So tense, in fact, that I'm tempted to wind my way around the counter and give her a massage just to loosen her up a little. 

"I'm sorry, Leo," she whispers, shaking her head. "We were being so careful and I went and ruined it for us. I didn't think anyone would have cared enough to snap a picture last night. This is all my fault."

I rub the curve of my jaw as I try to decipher how I feel about this. I'm mildly uncomfortable about the news of our relationship getting out. Mild enough that my stomach does an unnatural flip of anxiety. I'm quick to clamp down on it, though. If I want to make it to where my dad was supposed to be in the world of golf, it's probably best I learn how to deal with popularity and the media beforehand. The idea of adapting to this new lifestyle scares the hell out of me, but I meant what I said during my conversation with Aria. 

She didn't almost hit me with her rental vehicle for no reason, and I don't plan on letting something like the media scare me into running away from her. 

"Aria," I say, my voice firm. I set her phone down on the countertop and reach out to grab her hand. Her skin is warm and soft, and I catch a whiff of her scent. Something sweet and spicy that's probably coming from the shirt I'm wearing. "You and I both know I'm uncomfortable with this, but I meant what I said about getting used to it. While you and the rest of your friends always call me retro due to the style of my phone, I know how quickly information travels on the Internet. I don't doubt Isabella's ability to tamper with the Internet and get stuff taken down. What I do doubt, though, is her ability to prevent people from coming up to us and taking photos, asking questions All that kind of shit. Questions are going to be thrown at us no matter what." I pause, taking a deep breath and giving her hand a squeeze. "I think it's time we make it public. Put it on your Insta-Whatever-It's-Called. This popularity, your fans – they're all part of your life. Relationships only work if both partners are on the same page. I want to be on the same page as you even if it means dealing with my anxiety. I don't want anything to potentially stand in the way of us."

Aria stares at me for several seconds, blinking at odd intervals. She also opens her mouth and closes it several times. Almost as if she can't find anything to say to me. I stare back at her, keeping my gaze locked with hers. 

And then, in the blink of an eye, Aria has shoved her chair back, wound her way around the island, and thrown her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. I hug her back, lowering my hands to her waist and keeping them there. I want to slide them lower, to touch the soft skin that her cheeky black-lace underwear is failing to cover, but I'm too modest. 

"You're being foolish," she whispers, tangling her fingers in my hair. 

"What can I say?" I joke. "I'm a fool for love."

She pulls back, her arms still wrapped around my neck. "Leo. I don't want to put this pressure on you. Izzy can make it work. I can deny the rumours. Refuse interviews and such. The fans will understand." 

I rest my hands on her shoulders. "Aria, your skills are why you've made a name for yourself. It's not because of your dad or your relation to Benn. Your skills, your hard work, and your willingness to communicate with the community have contributed to this. And I refuse to let anything subtract from that. You are the captain of Team Canada and I know how much you love talking about hockey. I've seen you talk to fans before. If you have to start refusing interviews and conversations because of me, then I'll hate myself." I slide my hand up her neck, resting it just below her ear so my thumb can caress the smooth skin of her jaw. "You and me, Aria, we can get through this. I'm uncomfortable with it, but I'm not scared. I'm not scared because I know I have you to help me, to stand beside me."

As she stares at me, tears begin to build in her eyes and her bottom lip begins to quiver. "Leo," she whispers. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

I dip my head down, bringing our lips closer together. "You nearly hit me with a car," I murmur. "You snatched my attention immediately, Aria. Since that day, I haven't been able to get you out of my head."

The next thing I know, Aria's lips are pressed against mine, and the kiss is unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's raw and steeped in passion. We're awake and connected, drowning in each other. 

Forgetting entirely about breakfast, I hoist her up and wrap her legs around my waist. Walking to my bedroom while making out is definitely more difficult than the movies portray; I stub my toe against where the wall of the hallway and living room intersect, Aria's elbow gets tangled in one of the decorative plants, and we knock down a picture hanging in the hallway. Suffice to say, we're a beautiful disaster as we stumble to my bedroom. 

Inside, there's a prominent glow of morning sunlight, casting rays of golden light across the dark bedding. And when I'm just about to close the door, Aria breaks our frantic kiss and tells me to slow down. 

"Are you sure you want to do this again?" she asks, her cheeks flushed. 

I cock an eyebrow in question.

"I mean, uh, I just, um, don't want to take time away from the bucket list. It's really important for you to get it done before the summer ends. I just want to make sure we're able to complete it." She ends her explanation with a shrug. 

Fighting off the grin that wants to split my face, I put on a dramatic performance that includes me looking at the invisible watch on my left wrist. "I think we've got time." I pause, realizing something. Just by the way her pupils have dilated and the way her chest is rising and falling, I know Aria wants this. Which is why I find it odd that she's trying to slow things down. When she knows what she wants, she makes sure she gets it. "Do you want to do it?" I press. "Because as soon as this door closes, all self-control falls to the wayside."

Aria pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she nods her head. "Of course I want this," she replies, no shame in her voice. "I was just trying to be modest like you."

I snort. "And how's that working for you?"

Aria tosses her head back, laughing. "I fucking hate it. So, Leo, I need you to shut the door, lay me down on that bed, and then do exactly what you did to me last night."

"Exactly?" I tease, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt she's wearing.

She presses a kiss just below my earlobe and then lightly nips at my skin. "Exactly."