A A R O N

I can't believe this.

The ballroom shimmered with too much gold and too many people. I barely noticed the music. My eyes scanned the room as I stepped inside, the weight of the evening already dragging on my shoulders. I wasn't here for the party. I was here to pick Courtney up, maybe make an appearance.

That was before I saw her.

Hermia.

She stood near the rose archway with Cameron, her Hollywood boyfriend, her hand on the sleeve of his blazer. They looked close. Too close. She was laughing at something, her face soft, open, the kind of laugh that made her shoulders shake.

Cameron looked smug. That was new. Or maybe I just hadn't seen them like this before. It was only in the articles and TV shows.

"You seriously told the valet you were royalty?" she said through her laughter. They were so loud I could hear from the distance I stood.

My stomach twisted.

Then Cameron dropped to one knee. She blinked, frozen where she stood.

Everything slowed. I couldn't hear the music anymore. Just the hum in my ears and Hermia's eyes, wide, locked on Cameron.

"Hermia Jones, you tamed my chaos and made it sing. Will you marry me?"

The crowd leaned in. My chest tightened and then I turned.

Before her answer. Before the applause. Before the inevitable.

I left through the side door, footsteps quick, heart thudding in my throat.
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Courtney's workplace must have been too warm. She came out wiping her hands, the apron still clinging to her waist. Her smile faltered the second she saw me.

I was leaning against the car, not looking up to acknowledge her.

No wave. No grin. Nothing.

She hesitated, then walked up quietly, opening the door herself and slipping into the seat. I followed suit. Wordless. And started the engine.

The drive was silent. The kind that pressed down on your chest.

She said "Hey," but I couldn't answer. Not right now. Not with Hermia's laugh still ringing in my head and Cameron's words like nails in my brain. And I was sure she saw that too. Everyone did.

She looked at me a few times, but I kept my eyes trained on the road. To just drive and get home.
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The porch light was on when I pulled up. My mother was waiting.

Dakota Richards stood like she always did. Poised and intentional. "Courtney, dear," she said with that familiar warmth, not towards me but towards strangers of course. "Welcome, darling. Come in."

I kept to the background. I always did when mother got like this, smiling too brightly, filling the room before anyone else could speak.

"You look beautiful tonight," she said to Courtney once we were inside. "I've always admired your strength. Growing up the way you did and still managing to be so graceful."

I saw Courtney blush, smile politely. I saw the way she sat stiffly on the edge of the couch like she didn't want to mess up anything nice.

Mother reached for her hand. "That's why I think you'll be perfect for my son."

My spine stiffened. Courtney froze. We exchanged glances. I blinked slowly.

"I think it's time," mother continued, nodding at me. "We should talk about your engagement, son. She's been by your side for so long. I think she's earned a place in this family."

Earned. Like love was something that came with points.

From the armchair, dad cleared his throat. "Darling, maybe we should give them more time."

"Nonsense," mother replied. "Time passes quickly. I missed so much of Aaron's childhood. I want to make up for it now. I want grandchildren to spoil. And while Noah's off chasing birds across the world with no plans to settle, Aaron's my only hope." She turned towards me. "Right son?"

I stood, my voice even, but sharp. "Mother. Can I talk to you? Alone?"

Mother blinked, probably surprised by my tone. "Of course."

Dad rose, giving me a small nod before turning to Courtney. "Come. I'll show you the bonsai collection. Your green thumb might be better than mine."

In the kitchen, I folded my arms.

"You're pushing." I said quietly.

"I'm making sure you don't waste your life."

I stared at her. "Is it my life you're worried about or yours?"

Mother's features softened, just slightly. "You don't know what it's like to watch your boys grow up without you. To see the years pass and not be there."

"You left."

"And I came back," she said, voice lower. "To do what I can. I may not get it all right, Aaron, but I want to see you happy. I want to see you loved."

I took a step back and turned my back to her, "You think I can just make it happen like that?"

"You can try, son."

Her words drifted away, replaced by the quiet invasion of memory.
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Junior year.

I was locking up my dad's jeep outside the gym when she walked out, hair damp from the game, sneakers dragging. Hermia had just won, crowd still buzzing behind her. She didn't wait for anyone, just stood near the curb, unbothered, powerful in her own way.

"You walk like a tank," I said without thinking, smirking.

She shot back, "And you talk like a snob."

And God, I liked that about her. The way she didn't flinch and never getting caught off guard. That little smile that threatened the corner of her mouth too whenever she saw me these days.

We ended up walking together. No plans.

Then I ruined it.

"You could be prettier, you know. If you tried."

I had been dreaming about seeing her face everywhere I didn't want to believe she looked pretty to me with how little she took care of herself.

She stopped.

I could still see the confusion in her eyes. The flicker of hurt she tried to swallow.

"I just meant..." I backpedaled. "Like... you have potential..."

What was I thinking?

She turned and walked away. I stood there like an idiot, wondering why I had said something so pointless. So cruel. All because I didn't know what else to say when she looked besides me like that.

I didn't know back then she'd be the one to stay in my mind. Always.
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Back in the kitchen, I rubbed my temples.

"Don't pressure me," I told my mother. "Not with this. Not again." I made sure to face her squarely when I objected.

She didn't argue. She just looked at me the way she did when she was trying not to cry. "I just want you to be happy."

I wished happiness was easy. I wished it wasn't potentially standing in a wine coloured dress in someone else's arms. That one girl who had changed and yet somehow still haunted the boy I used to be.

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