30 - LIES

30 - LIES


Aiden’s POV

"I’m moving out."

The words hung in the air like cigarette smoke, thick and suffocating.

I didn’t say anything at first. I just stood there, staring at Cheryl as my mind tried to process what the hell she’d just said. There was an odd feeling in my chest—a twinge, small but sharp, like the moment you realize you left something important behind but can’t remember where.

I turned slightly to the blonde still clinging to my arm, barely registering her presence now. She looked up at me with big, expectant eyes, but I wasn’t in the mood.

“Give us a minute,” I murmured, barely sparing her a glance.

She huffed, clearly annoyed, but still unlatched herself from my arm and strutted off toward the living room.

I let out a slow breath and turned back to Cheryl. “What do you mean you’re moving out?” I asked, keeping my voice casual, stripping it of the edge that wanted to creep in.

Cheryl hesitated. Just for a second.

“You know, I always said I was going to move out,” she started, her tone light, but I caught the way she swallowed before speaking again. “This wasn’t permanent. I was just trying to get away from Aunt Marge’s house.”

I studied her, the way she avoided my gaze like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me.

“And besides,” she added, shifting her weight from one foot to another, “Damon isn’t really comfortable with me staying here.”

Damon.

The name hit me harder than I expected, bringing an odd kind of pressure to my chest.

Of course.

Damon had never liked me. And maybe this was just his way of getting me out of her life for good.

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Right. Of course. I’m the big, bad wolf that bullied you in high school—”

“Aiden—”

“No, it’s fine,” I cut in, forcing a smirk. “You can go. I actually kinda want the place to myself, and I didn’t know how to tell you, so this just makes it easier.”

Lies.

Every single word was a damn lie.

I didn’t want the place to myself.

I didn’t want her to go.

I’d gotten used to her presence—the sound of her soft footsteps padding through the apartment, the way the scent of her perfume clung to the air long after she walked by. Even her shampoo sometimes filled my nose when she passed too close, something faint and floral that I’d never admit I liked.

But what was I supposed to say? Stay?

That wasn’t me.

That had never been me.

So I just shrugged and shoved my hands into my pockets like I didn’t feel the ground shifting beneath me.

“Goodnight,” I muttered. “I have someone waiting.”

I turned on my heel and walked away before she could say anything else, before I could see anything else—the way her lips parted slightly, the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

I didn’t want to see it.

I didn’t want to feel it.

The second I stepped inside my room, I felt like I could finally breathe.

My room was the one place that never changed. Sleek, modern, mostly black with touches of dark wood and gray—minimalist, clean, and sharp, just how I liked it. A king-sized bed sat in the center, the sheets still slightly rumpled from the last time I’d actually slept in it. A large floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city skyline, lights twinkling against the night sky. A small bar cart sat against one wall, half-filled glasses still lingering from past nights.

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair.

But the second I turned, irritation prickled at my skin.

The blonde was still here.

She was sitting on the edge of my bed, one leg crossed over the other, her smile slow and suggestive as she looked at me like I was some prize she was waiting to unwrap.

But I wasn’t in the mood for this.

Not tonight.

Not when my mind was crowded with thoughts of her.

Cheryl’s voice, her face, the way she’d looked at me when she said she was leaving—fuck, I hated that I even cared.

I clenched my jaw.

“You gotta leave.”

The blonde’s smile faltered, confusion flashing across her face. “Wait, what?”

I exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I’m not in the mood. Just—go home.”

For a second, she just stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Then, her lips curled in a slight sneer. “Wow. Really?”

“Really.”

She scoffed, muttering something under her breath as she snatched her purse off the bed and stormed past me.

I didn’t bother stopping her.

I didn’t bother looking back.

I just stood there, staring out the window, hands braced against the edge of the bar cart, trying to ignore the empty feeling clawing at my chest.

Because Cheryl was moving out.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure if I’d actually be okay with being alone