Page 64 of Later Bloom

“Heading back. I’m on foot, you see.”

“Right.” Arthur reaches over to grab his coat from the hook, which he begins to slide on. “I’ll walk you down.”

Aubrey doesn’t want to argue. She likes that he wants to come down with her, and if he offered, she’d walk the whole way home with him, though of course that would be outrageous. She smiles and looks down at her boots, saying nothing until Florence notices them and gasps, “Oh, you’re leaving! Hold on!”

Then everyone gathers at the door, wishing each other goodnight and happy holidays. Florence makes Aubrey promise she’ll text her and does a weird, drunken wink. The whole time, she doesn’t look at Arthur. It feels awkward and tense suddenly.

On their way downstairs, they’re silent. Aubrey can still hear the party and someone’s TV from another apartment.

As soon as they step outside, Arthur says, “I can take you home if you’d like.” He looks away when he speaks. It’s not snowing now but there’s a fresh coat on everything, glistening under the orange of the streetlight and the technicolour gleam from houses and buildings adorned with string lights.

This is the last time she’s seeing Arthur before she heads back. That’s what he told her, obviously for a reason, though she can’t decide what it is. Because they stand there and breathe in the winter air and neither of them says anything.

Her eyes are heavy, and her heart too. She sighs and says abruptly, “You know, everyone keeps saying you like me.”

Maybe she shouldn’t do this. The people she likes have grown distant, Maggie, Louise. She hasn’t decided yet whether she’s ready to risk Arthur. But it’s too late now.

He puffs air out of his nose. “Like you? Ridiculous.”

Aubrey says nothing. Arthur quickly adds, more seriously, “Who’s everyone?”

“I don’t think it matters. I just can’t stand this, not talking about it. It’s very weird.”

“Honestly, I like talking about a lot of things, but this isn’t really one of them.” His face has grown hard. He seems tired suddenly. “And I think it matters who’s talking about it if it makes you think less of me.”

The suggestion is so ludicrous Aubrey wants to laugh. She doesn’t bother hiding her offense. “It doesn’t make me think less of you.”

“Okay. Well, good.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird we’re not talking about it?”

“No, I don’t think that,” Arthur says, and this time he doesn’t look away. “I think I feel sometimes—not saying things is fine. I care about you a lot.”

“Okay. That’s it, really?”

“It’s all I have to say.”

This shuts Aubrey up. She opens and closes her mouth and suddenly she’s not breathing. He says it with such force, like he’s thought about it and decided it’s reason enough.

“It’s my thoughts, my feelings,” he adds. “Don’t I get to decide when I discuss them?”

The world feels so overwhelming. Aubrey doesn’t know what to say. He’s right, but she also feels right, and she wants to argue with him but also not. That’s not how they do things, and she doesn’t want it to start now. She concedes, “Okay, yeah. Sorry.”

He softens, just a little, like he’s just realized what he said. His face remains hard but he says almost like a plea, “Just trust me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Aubrey’s chest feels so full she wishes the air was colder so it might crack it open.

Arthur looks younger then, smaller. “Things have been fine and nice so far. Let’s not change that.”

“You don’t want things to change.”

He nods, quick and short. “Yes.”

Aubrey takes a breath, hoping it might steady the uneven hand that keeps her upright. Maybe she drank more than she remembers. The world is blurry along the edges and her coat sticks to her skin. “Okay, well, good. Great.”

He starts, like an apology, “Aubrey—”

“It’s really fine. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I think you’re right—this is nice, and good. I guess I was just curious. Pretty dangerous thing, curiosity.” She doesn’t know where to look, where to stand. Her weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I’m okay with nothing changing. I’d rather it stays like this.”