The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

“I want a cup of coffee,” I said when Aiden caught up to me. “Do you want something?”

He shook his head but walked along with me to the closest Dunkin Donuts, his frame a big, imposing shadow that I couldn’t help but constantly be aware of. In all the times we’d traveled together, I didn’t think we’d ever been so close to one another. Usually I was trailing behind him, or he’d go off to sit somewhere by himself. This time though, he wasn’t standing fifty feet away, much less ten, with his headphones in, oblivious to everyone and everything around him.

And that might have made me feel a little bit better. He wasn’t exactly ignoring me or acting the way he usually did, AKA pretending I didn’t exist. I had to give him some credit for that, didn’t I?

Once we were in line, I glanced over to find his attention straight-ahead, focused on the menu; a crease formed between his eyebrows. The customer in front of us moved aside, and I took a step forward as the employee peeked up from the cash register, briefly glancing at Aiden before looking back down. “How can I help you?”

“Can I—?”

Double taking, the employee’s gaze went up to Aiden again. His nostrils flared.

I knew he was going to gasp before he did it. The employee’s eyes went wide first. His mouth slammed shut second. Then he sucked in a breath. “Fuck,” the cashier whispered, his gaze locked on the behemoth next to me.

The behemoth who was, at that point, looking around and not paying any attention to the individual freaking out in front of him. So I elbowed him. Aiden’s attention snapped down to me so quickly it was a little alarming. He was frowning. I tipped my head to the side discreetly in the direction of the donut shop employee. Not anywhere near being an idiot, those brown eyes went where I indicated.

The employee was still gazing at him with huge eyes.

“Are you… you’re… you’re Aiden… Aiden Graves,” the guy who had to be a couple years younger than me blubbered.

Aiden nodded tightly.

Oh, brother. Mr. Social Skills was at it again.

“You’re… I’m…” The guy was panting. “I’m such a fan. Holy shit.” He sucked in another breath, and I swear his face paled. “You’re even bigger in person.”

He really, really was.

Aiden shrugged, carelessly, like he usually did when someone mentioned his size. I thought people made him uncomfortable when they brought it up, but mostly because I’d heard him tell Leslie before that it wasn’t like he’d done something for it. His genes had given him his stature and the framework of his build; all he’d done was work out and eat well to develop what he’d been given. His lack of a reply wasn’t arrogance; I was pretty positive he just didn’t know what to say.

The poor guy continued gaping at him, completely unaware I existed, much less that behind us were at least four other people wondering what the hell was taking so long for us to order.

Aiden didn’t help the situation either by standing there, looking back at his fan with that unreadable, borderline bored expression on his face. “Could you get my girl a coffee?”

His girl?

It took every ounce of my self-control not to look up at him with an expression that said exactly what I was thinking: what the hell did you just call me?

Thankfully, I didn’t physically react. When the cashier finally snapped out of his trance, he glanced at me and blinked. I smiled at him even as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, ignoring the strange feeling coursing through my spine at the fake term of endearment that had just come out of Aiden’s mouth.

“Oh, sure. Sure. My bad. What can I get you?” the guy asked, blushing.

I placed my order, quickly looking down to make sure I was texting the right person, and typed out a quick message.

Your girl?

I sent the man next to me before handing over my card.

The guy cast another glance at Aiden while he swiped it hastily, nervously. I thanked him when he gave it back, but he was back to not paying any attention to me; he was still staring at Aiden, and on closer inspection, I realized the poor guy’s hands were shaking.

“Thanks,” I mumbled one more time as I took my cup and moved aside to put coffee and creamer in it. Aiden shifted over along with me, seeming to be in his own little world, oblivious to the text message I’d sent him, or maybe just deciding to ignore the phone I knew he usually kept on vibrate in his pocket. It was right then that I noticed the people in line behind us were all staring at him.

I couldn’t blame them. He didn’t exactly give off a welcoming vibe, standing there with his backpack on both shoulders, his arms crossed over his chest with my bag resting at his feet while he waited on me. Then I realized they were glancing at me too. Measuring me. Seeing who was with the guy the employee was freaking out about.

Just me.

The nerves and the urge to throw up didn’t go anywhere. I was nauseous the entire flight to Vegas. Aiden said maybe five words to me before he put his head against the window and fell asleep, which wasn’t a bad thing, considering I was stuck in my own world of denial and terror. I kept telling myself everything was fine, but it didn’t feel like it. If Aiden was battling any nerves or insecurity, he didn’t let it show as we walked out of the airport and caught a cab to our hotel off the Strip. We checked in and made our way up the elevator to the suite.

He swiped the card through the door and let me in first.

I had to let out a whistle as I took in the clean, contemporary furnishings. I’d forgotten how nice this hotel was and it made me feel a little guilty. When I was a kid, we hadn’t travelled much, mostly because my mom never had the money, much less the time or inclination, to take us anywhere. But on the rare occasion that Diana’s parents invited me to go along with them on a trip, we would stay at the really cheap motels on the side of the road that looked like something out of a horror movie, and we’d all crammed in to a room—or two, if her parents could swing it.