Chapter 56 Aslan
Aslan
“So,” James said slowly, dramatic pause included, “are you going to be all clingy and gross from now on?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh shit,” he continued, gasping like a Victorian widow. “Is he going to sit with us at lunch? Wait! Noooo…. Are you sitting with him? Am I losing you to the dark side? Should I start emotionally preparing?”
“Chill, dude,” I muttered. “This was your idea—”
“Which I immediately regret…” he cut me off.
“And we’re just giving it a try. We’re not getting married, dude.”
James flipped onto his stomach and propped his chin in his hands, eyes sparkling with malicious delight. “Giving it a try,” he repeated. “Wow. How scandalously restrained. Aslan Rivers enters his stable boyfriend era.”
“Not my boyfriend really, and we're not changing anything,” I insisted. “We’ll just… hang out more, I guess.”
James gasped again. “Hang out more. My God. The romance. The poetry. Aslan and the Music Prince. A forbidden alliance forged under moonlight.”
“Oh, my God, shut up…. You’re an idiot.”
“And you are blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
I threw a pillow at him, which he caught dramatically to his chest. “If you start ditching me for him, I swear I will make your life miserable.”
“I’m not ditching anyone,” I said. “Relax.”
But the truth was, I was not really relaxing. I was getting closer to one constellation to get over the other.
Like that ever worked for anyone.
Crownwell on weekends was always quieter, but this time it felt like someone had cleared the board.
I leaned against the stone railing outside the courtyard and glanced around the almost-empty grounds. “Wow. The school feels weird without the assholes.”
I hesitated and added, “Shit, sorry... I know they’re your friends.”
Aitor huffed a soft laugh beside me. “They are. But they’re still assholes. Until you get to know them…”
That made me smile.
“So where is everyone?” I asked.
“Evan’s at some tech expo with his parents,” he said, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “Joe’s back home. Big anniversary thing at his family’s restaurant.”
“And Garrett?” I asked before I could stop myself.
I kept my tone casual. Neutral. Like I didn’t care.
Aitor glanced at me, just briefly.
“Family dinner,” he said. “Some formal thing. When Helena schedules those, attendance isn’t optional.”
I shrugged. “Sounds thrilling.”
“It’s not,” Aitor said quietly.
Something in his voice made me look at him.
“And you?” I asked. “You never go anywhere on weekends?”
He shook his head once, almost absentminded. “I’m usually the one who stays. You know the story.”
I did.
“I don’t really have anywhere to go. Got the big house, but with staff I don't know. All empty and full of sad memories,” he added, not self-pitying. Just stating a fact. “So I prefer to stay.”
No drama. No tragic violin soundtrack.
I nudged his shoulder lightly. “Well. Lucky me then.”
He looked at me at that, and something softened in his expression.
“There is something today, though,” he said after a moment. “Joe invited me to the anniversary event. Me and a plus one.”
That made me blink. “You’re going?”
“Yeah. His family loves me.” He said it without arrogance, just certainty. Then, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, “You could come.”
I stared at him. “As your plus one?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
My first reaction wasn’t excitement. It was calculation.
The Constellation didn’t exactly like me. Showing up at Joe Valsecchi’s family event on Aitor Castro’s arm would not be subtle.
“They’ll think we’re… something,” I said carefully.
“We are something,” he replied calmly. “We’re trying.”
Yes, I wanted to. I really wanted to give him a real chance.
“Plus, they’ll think whatever they want,” he continued. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Easy for you to say.
He must have read it in my face.
“I’m as untouchable as any of them,” he said, steady. “They’ll respect it. And they’ll respect you.”
Not because of me, of course, but because of him.
That should have bothered me, but it didn't. They already didn't like me because of someone else, so might as well…
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. His fingers brushed mine first, giving me space to pull away if I needed to.
I didn’t.
Our foreheads touched. No kiss. No urgency. Just warmth. Just breath.
My body didn’t tense, and that mattered more than I wanted to admit.
“It’s going to be fine,” he murmured. “Just nice people and amazing Italian food.”
He smiled.
“Oh, I could totally eat…” I smiled back.
His thumb brushed once against my cheek before he stepped away. “Now go dress up, handsome,” he said softly. “We have a date.”
Date.
The word didn’t make my heart race, but it didn’t hurt either.
And right now, that felt like progress.
James took one look at me standing in front of the mirror and immediately rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not. We are not sending you to an elite Italian anniversary soirée looking like you’re about to grade papers.”
“I look fine.”
“You look like a melancholic literature major,” he corrected, already digging through his closet.
In the end, he won.
I was wearing my dark blue vintage trousers and my black dress shirt, which he allowed. Over it, James had insisted on a structured black blazer of his, which was surprisingly classier than anything I've ever seen him wear.
“Now you're ready!”
When I stepped out into the courtyard, Aitor was already there.
So gorgeous it hurt—white turtleneck, cream sports blazer, and dark pants cut perfectly.
He looked like he had stepped out of a European fashion editorial.
His long hair, flowing with the breeze.
Holy shit…
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
He noticed as his gaze slid slowly over me.
“Wow,” he said quietly.
I glanced down at myself, suddenly aware of every seam. “It’s James’ fault.”
“I’ll have to thank him,” Aitor replied.
He stepped closer and pulled me into a slow hug. His hand resting at my back, warm and steady, gave me shivers.
“You look incredible,” he murmured.
My heart did something small and traitorous in my chest.
“So do you,” I said honestly.
He smiled and, shit, it was beautiful.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
We drove toward the Valsecchi estate, which was lit up like something out of a movie. Warm golden lights. Laughter spilling through open doors. The smell of garlic and wine and something sweet in the air.
And then I saw the guests. All fancy and kinda intimidating.
My steps slowed before I could stop them.
Aitor noticed immediately.
He turned toward me, lifting his hand to gently guide my face toward his.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
I did.
His eyes were steady. Warm.
He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips and my heart fluttered inside my chest.
“You’re with me,” he murmured. “Remember.”
For a brief, fragile second, I didn’t even remember my own name.
We stepped inside together, and Joe’s family was exactly what he said—loud, affectionate, overwhelming in the best way.
Joe’s mother reached Aitor first, kissing both his cheeks dramatically before pulling him into a hug.
“Aitor! Finally!” she exclaimed in a heavy Italian accent. Then she turned to me with the same warmth, pulling me into an embrace before I could even prepare for it. “And who is this handsome young man?”
Aitor’s hand found the small of my back.
“My plus one,” he said.
Joe’s mother looked between us, eyes sparkling. She leaned closer to him conspiratorially.
“Well,” she said with a wink, “I like this plus one much more than the last one. You should keep him.”
Heat flooded Aitor’s face instantly.
“Signora mia—” he started, flustered for the first time since I’d known him.
He was rescued when Joe’s father appeared with two crystal glasses filled with something amber and fragrant.
“Drink,” he declared proudly, pressing one into each of our hands. “Family recipe.”
We moved slightly aside to make room for the next round of hugs.
I was just starting to relax when someone collided into Aitor with full force.
“Aitor! Finally! I was looking for you!”
A girl wrapped her arms around him without hesitation.
Long dark hair. Sparkling dress. Effortless confidence.
She pulled back, still holding his shoulders. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, flirting with me openly.
He hugged her back easily before sliding his arm around my waist.
“This is Aslan,” he said. “Alan, she's Mirka, Joe's sister.”
She looked between us, and then she froze. Her eyes widened. A faint blush crept up her cheeks.
“Oh shit,” she muttered under her breath. “This is going to be awkward.”
I blinked.
Aitor was already turning toward her. “Mirka, what—”
A voice cut cleanly through the room.
“Hi, Aitor. It’s good to see you again.”
We all turned to see Linnea standing a few feet away.