Dear Aaron(93)

He made an amused sound of disbelief. “I can’t see you being an accountant.”

I laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I hated it. But by the time I realized how much I hated it, it was too late and I wasn’t about to waste my mom’s money and the partial scholarship I’d gotten and start over. That’s why my mom and her husband are always trying to get me to join the company they work for. I have a degree in it. It would make sense.”

“Why didn’t you go to school for fashion design?” he asked, catching me totally off guard, because how the heck did he even know you could go to school for that?

It took me a second to get my thoughts together because I was so thrown off. “Ah, because everyone told me I needed to get a ‘real’ degree.” Was that disappointment I was feeling in myself or something else? “Both my parents said I needed to finish school so I could have a ‘backup,’ and I always figured I could do whatever I wanted to do afterward. I told you I did my alteration work and the dresses on the side the entire time.”

Aaron nodded, but I could tell he didn’t agree with what I’d done.

Honestly, a part of me understood. It had been a waste for me to go to school for something I wasn’t passionate about. Here I had this degree, and I would still rather make a fraction of what I could and do what I wanted instead. But I’d done what my parents wanted, like I always had.

“I know it’s stupid,” I reasoned, taking my turn to be way more nonchalant about something that wasn’t. “But I can’t take it back now. I’m trying not to always do what everyone else wants me to out of guilt and just wanting to make them happy. Anymore at least. That’s why I’m here.”

His mouth twisted to the side and he nodded, giving my fingers a squeeze where they were, not having moved even a little bit off his chest. “I want that for you too, Ru. You’re a lot braver and self-reliant than you give yourself credit for, you know that?”

My face flushed at the compliment, and I wasn’t sure whether to nod like I agreed, because I really didn’t, or shrug and play it off. So I didn’t do either. I just sat there like a lump of coal.

Luckily Aaron grinned. “All right. I’ll drop it. You want to watch a movie or a show?”





Chapter 18





Mom: Did you become fish bait?

Me: No, I’m still alive.

Mom: OK have fun

Mom: Not too much fun.

Mom: Don’t show up on those girls gone crazy videos and embarrass us all

Me: LOVE YOU

Mom: I’m serious, Squirt. They show those girls on commercials. Jonathan would have a heart attack Me: I would never do that and you know it. I’ll text you later.

Mom: I never thought you would go on vacation without my permission Me: Mom, I’m 24.

Mom: You’re still my baby

Me: Jasmine is your baby.

Mom: Jasmine came out an old woman.

Mom: Need to get up. Ben says hi.

Me: Okay, text you later. I really am okay. Everyone is being nice to me. Love you.

Mom: Love you 2





“Good morning.”

Setting my phone on the floor beside the leg of the deck chair, I turned my upper body to face Aaron at the sliding doors and smiled at him sleepily. We’d only gone to bed four hours ago, after we’d both started dozing off watching infomercial after infomercial, running commentary on them the entire time. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much, and that was saying something because I almost always had a good time around my friends and family.

“Morning,” I said to him in a low voice. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

He shook his head as he closed the door behind him, balancing a tray in his one free hand as he came toward me. His face held all the signs of how tired he was, and I was positive I looked the exact same. “Yeah, I couldn’t go back to sleep,” he replied, setting the tray down on the small table and taking the same seat he’d used the morning before.

A girl could get used to this, I thought, as I took it from him with a “thank you” that hopefully didn’t sound like I love you or you’re amazing. “You really don’t have to do this,” I let him know, giving him a smile at the same time.

He had his back to me as he picked up his own bowl from the tray. “I know,” was all he said as he faced me again with his breakfast held against his chest. “Texting your mom?” he asked with a raise of an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I told him with a smirk. “She’s making sure I’m alive, basically telling me not to flash my boobs at a camera and trying to convince me to text her every hour.”

“Every hour?”

“Yes.”

He laughed.

“I know. She’s lucky if any of my other siblings call or text her once while they’re on vacation. She’s nuts.”

“You can give her my number if you want,” he offered.

Give my mom his number. Why? Why? Why did he have to be so damn near perfect? It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t. What also wasn’t fair was that I now needed to tell him the truth about what I’d done. “I did give her your cell phone number last night in case of an emergency. I hope that’s okay,” I said to him.