43

OLIVIA

Aiden drives to the parking lot of his house, and his hand remains on my thigh the entire time.

He no longer uses his thumb, but he would occasionally run his hand up and down my thigh, slowly and softly.

Believe me when I say that I like what he is doing. How can I not like what he is doing, by the way? I won't mind if he does more.

Aiden pulls the car to a stop, and his hand slides off my thigh. I hate that he has taken his hand away. It feels like a part of my skin is left cold and empty.

I open the car door and step out, closing the door behind me. I shiver as the cold night air seeps through my thin dress.

I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the chill. This dress has been like a blessing before, but now it is more of a curse. I regret wearing such a light dress at this moment.

I walk over to where Aiden stands, looking up at him as if asking for a go-ahead to follow him inside.

He meets my gaze. He reaches for my hand, and interlaces our fingers. With our hands