Just My Imagination?

“Jesus, Henri, I don’t even know where to start.”

It was the first thing Aaron said to me the moment we were both in his car the next morning. I turned to him, not sure myself how to respond. I’d hardly slept just thinking about everything Bea had said and what his reaction might be when he found out that I now knew Mia was convinced he was infatuated with me.

Would he deny it, or worse, admit it? If so, how would I—should I—respond? I stared at him now, saying the only thing I could think of. “Don’t worry about it, Aaron.” I shrugged slightly. “You said it yourself. Things haven’t felt the same with you two for a while. She’s picked up on it, and it’s not unheard of that she’d jump to conclusions, right?”

“Yes, but Bea,” he said, his glare so rigid I’d only ever seen him like that a few times. “She should’ve never jumped the gun like that without talking to me first. Her coming to your place to accuse you of anything and confront you the way she did is completely unacceptable.”