Play On by Samantha Young

“But I’m not going anywhere,” I argued.

  “Right now, you’re not. But you’re only twenty-two. How long is this little volunteer phase of yours going to last?” His green eyes were hard. “I don’t want Sylvie at this hospital. She should never have been dumped here in the first place.”

  I realized then that part of his anger was really toward Sylvie’s dad, but that didn’t mean his words didn’t sting.

  “Some of these children are seriously ill and she’s befriended them,” he continued, exasperated. “I don’t want her to lose any more than she already has. And, as noble as it is to give your time to these kids, I’d like to know what it is exactly you get out of these visits?”

  I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to know why. But he was the parent of a kid I spent time with, so of course he needed to know why.

  “It’s not about me,” I answered, my tone brittle with tension. “If being with me— listening to me telling them a story—gives a child some happiness in a time when they are pretty sorely lacking that emotion, then it’s worth any sadness I might feel when I have to say goodbye to them.” I gestured to my ridiculous costume. “I don’t do this for me. I do it for them.” I turned abruptly and strode back toward the common room before my explanation transformed into anger.

  If I wouldn’t allow Seonaid, my goddamn best friend, to question my motives, I certainly wouldn’t stand for being questioned by Mr. Big Shot.

  I collected Sylvie, not wanting her to be punished for my argument with her uncle, even if I wanted to run as far away from him as possible. Instead, I sat in the cafeteria with them both, refusing to look at him, and engaging Sylvie in constant conversation.

  The whole time, I felt his eyes on me. I hated it.

  Because once again, he made me feel small.

  And this time it was his fault.

  The kids looked up at me expectantly as I looked back at them with a hollow feeling in my chest. I’d dreaded this moment. For the past week, I’d talked myself into believing this moment wouldn’t happen. Yet here I was, back at the hospital dressed as Peter Pan, and there was a face missing in the small crowd.

  Sylvie.

  Acute disappointment held me frozen in place as I tried to think of what I could’ve said or done to reassure Aidan instead of pissing him off. My only hope was that Sylvie had been enrolled back at school and that was why she wasn’t here.

  “Peter?” Aly asked expectantly.

  Her voice drew me out of my stupor, and for the first time, I noted Aly was tucked under a blanket on a chair. Only last week, she’d been sitting on the floor with the other kids, well enough to move around on her own.

  Aly’s leukemia was worsening.

  I shook myself, suddenly annoyed. Sylvie had been through hell and back, but she was healthy and safe, which was more than I could say for the kids I’d come here to entertain. For whatever reason, I’d let myself get too attached to Sylvie Lennox. It was time to let go.

  I grinned at Aly, like I didn’t see how sick she was because she really didn’t need the reminder. “Are we all ready for more Harry Potter?”

  Before they could respond, the doors to the common room swung open, and my breath caught as Aidan Lennox’s gaze locked on mine.

  “Don’t start without me!” Sylvie rushed into the room from under the arm he had bracing the door open.

  Relief flooded me as she grinned excitedly and then flopped down on the floor at my feet. She rolled her wrist, mimicking the royal wave, and said cheekily, “You may continue.”

  Trying to suppress my laughter, I placed my left foot behind my right and bent my knee, lowering into a graceful bow. “Your Highness.”

  Sylvie giggled and cupped a hand around her mouth to whisper, “You’re doing it like a girl.”

  I cupped my hand around my mouth and whispered back, “I think they know I’m a girl.”

  “Well, now they do.”

  Lips pinched together to stop my laughter, I glanced up at the door to find Aidan watching us carefully. I let my gratitude shine out of my eyes and his expression softened. He acknowledged my silent thank you with a nod, and then he closed the door, leaving me alone with the children.

  Offering me his trust.

  I don’t know what Aidan did with his time while I entertained the kids, I only know that when Sylvie grabbed my hand and led me out of the common room, Aidan was striding down the hall toward us, his phone to his ear. He zeroed in on us and I heard him say, “Like I said, if he wants to do this, he needs to come to me … Just tell him. Look, I have to go. We’ll speak later.”

  His features were strained as he stopped before us and slipped his phone into his pocket. Concern for him prompted me to ask, “Everything okay?”

  He studied me, so intently I swear my breath caught in my throat.

  “Aye, thanks.” He looked down at Sylvie. “Did you have fun?”

  “Yup! We’ve nearly finished the first book. Can I have mac and cheese now?”

  Aidan sighed, amused. “You’re going to turn into one giant plate of macaroni.” He looked at me. “That’s all she ever wants me to cook.”

  “I can see the attraction,” I said, smiling up at him. Then I saw the speculative look in his eyes and realized what I’d said. I flushed. “I meant the appeal. I can see the appeal. Of mac and cheese.”

  And just like that, I think my knickers melted under extreme heat because Aidan Lennox’s rugged features relaxed into the sexiest goddamn smile I’d ever seen in my life.

  No person could possibly be safe from that smile.

  “Would you like some?”

  My pulse skyrocketed at the deep rumble of his words, and the words themselves.

  Uh.

  Yes, please.

  Wait. What? Was he flirting with me. “What?”

  Aidan’s grin grew. “Some mac and cheese. Would you like some? For lunch?”

  Oh God. Open up the floor and let it swallow me whole! I blushed. “Uh, sure.”

  “Why has your face gone red?” Sylvie asked as we began to walk toward the cafeteria.

  I flushed even harder. Aidan chuckled. “My face hasn’t gone red.”

  “Pink, then,” Sylvie amended.

  “It’s hot in here.”

  “It’s not that hot.”

  “Kid,” I said, laughing through my pain. “I’m not pink, red, or any shade in between. I am perfectly normal.”

  Sylvie’s eyebrows pinched together. “You dress up like a storybook character every week. I don’t know if that’s normal.”

  Aidan burst out laughing and I scowled at him. That only made him laugh harder. “She’s got you there,” he said, his words gravelly with amusement.

  I looked down at Sylvie, clearly delighted that she’d made her uncle laugh. I mock glowered at her. “You, Sylvie Lennox, are way too smart for your age.”

  “Good,” Aidan replied for her. “She makes up for all the idiots who are way too dumb for their age.”

  Unsure if that was a personal dig, I raised an eyebrow. “And am I one of those idiots?”

  “No.” Aidan opened the door to the cafeteria and gestured for us to go in before him. Sylvie hurried through first, and as I moved to follow her, my eyes were drawn up to her uncle like iron to a magnetic field. “You’re something else entirely, Pixie.”

  Our eyes locked and I stalled. “Pixie?”

  “Aye. There’s something …” He shook his head and then dropped his free hand to my waist to nudge me forward.

  I didn’t move. I tensed at his touch, afraid I’d either melt back into his arm or forward into his chest. It was astonishing to me that someone who was practically a stranger could affect me so much. “There’s something?”

  “Nothing,” he replied gruffly, forcing me to move as he guided us both into the cafeteria after Sylvie. “You just remind me of a pixie in that daft outfit.”

  I glanced down, realizing I’d forgotten to change out of my costume, and when I looked back up to follow Aidan a
nd Sylvie to the food counter, I was aware of people regarding my outfit with curious looks.

  “You know, we don’t have to eat hospital food,” Aidan said to Sylvie as I approached. “We could invite Nora to eat lunch with us anywhere.”

  “I like the mac and cheese here,” Sylvie replied, eyeing it hungrily. I wondered where she packed it all away in that tiny body of hers. “So does Nora.”

  I let her speak for me because I wasn’t sure I was ready to venture out into the real world with Aidan. In here we were in our weird little bubble; I felt protected by that bubble. If we stepped outside, all the differences between us would only be amplified. In here, we were just two people who cared for Sylvie and I could get past my insecurities around him.

  Before he could beat me to it, I paid for our lunches.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he said as we followed Sylvie to an empty table.

  “You paid last time.”

  “I can afford to.”

  At his blunt reply, I answered, irritated, “I can afford to buy you lunch, Aidan.”

  He studied me in that intense way again, making me squirm as I took the seat across from him. “Independently wealthy?”

  I glowered at his sarcasm. “Yes. I’m a princess from a far-off land, disguised as a nobody so I can live my life in freedom from the restraints of life as a monarch.”

  Sylvie stared at me wide-eyed.

  Aidan scoffed. “Do you ever stop telling stories?”

  “That would be cool, though,” Sylvie said wistfully. “I wish I was a princess.”

  “You are a princess,” Aidan said matter-of-factly, like it was stupid of anyone to think otherwise. Sylvie beamed from ear to ear and then dove into her macaroni.

  He made her so happy.

  Lit up her entire world.

  His gaze flicked from her to me and he tensed. Whatever he saw in my expression seemed to catch him by the back of the neck and hold him frozen, unable to look away from me.

  A current rippled in the air between us, and a shiver caressed the back of my neck, tickling down my spine, around my back, and across my breasts. I sucked in a breath, feeling my nipples harden.

  So inappropriate!

  I flushed, looking down at my plate, mortified.

  Realizing there was not only silence from Aidan but from Sylvie, I chanced a look at her and found her glancing from me to her uncle, her little brow creased in confusion.

  Aidan cleared his throat. “So, Nora, any chance you’re going to tell us anything real about yourself anytime soon?”

  Glad to think of anything but my attraction to him, I pondered his question. “Um … I like macaroni and cheese.”

  Sylvie huffed. “We already knew that.”

  “I’m from the US.”

  “And that!”

  “Okay, okay.” I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “I know. I’m twenty-two.”

  She shook her head at me. “And that, silly.”

  “I know something about you,” Aidan suddenly said.

  “And what’s that?”

  “You don’t know when to stop pretending.”

  His words were like a punch to the gut. “That’s not true,” I whispered.

  Seeming confused by my reaction, Aidan leaned across the table. “I never meant anything by it, Pixie. I was only kidding.”

  Mortified, I gave him a sharp nod, and studied my food. The silence around the table made me feel guilty. “I love Shakespeare.”

  “Shakespeare?” Aidan said.

  I looked up at him. “Shakespeare.”

  “What’s Shakespeare?” Sylvie asked.

  “Not a what, a he. He wrote plays,” Aidan supplied, his eyes not leaving mine. “A little too old for you, sweetheart. You’ll learn Shakespeare when you’re a teenager.”

  “Why do I have to wait?”

  “Because he deals with stuff that’s a little too grown up for you.”

  She seemed to accept this and returned to her mac and cheese.

  “So,” Aidan turned his attention back to me, “the comedies or the tragedies?”

  “Both.”

  “Favorite?”

  I couldn’t understand why he appeared so genuinely interested in my answer but I did know it made me want to tell him. “Comedy: Twelfth Night. Tragedy: a toss-up between Hamlet, King Lear and Othello. I can’t choose.”

  “So the tragedies are really your favorite, then,” he said.

  Thinking about it, I guessed they were. I shrugged.

  “Have you ever starred in a production?”

  The question ripped open a longing, a dream, making me inwardly wince. I shook my head, looking down at my uneaten plate.

  “Nora?”

  “So, who else have you worked with?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Aidan didn’t hide his irritation or the disappointment in his expression. “Nora—”

  “He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Sylvie piped up.

  I frowned at her. “You told me about Bowie.”

  “But he didn’t really work with him.”

  This kid. I grinned at her. “That’s true.” My eyes flicked to Aidan, studying me again like I was under a microscope. My smile fell.

  And just like that, so did the uncomfortable silence.

  It had been clear that Aidan was annoyed with me for avoiding his questions. I’d given him something of myself and then immediately shut down again. I wasn’t stupid—I could see how that was annoying. But I was almost afraid of what I would say if I kept talking. It had been hard for me to trust Jim enough to give him what he had of me, and I guess it wasn’t hard to deduce that my lack of trust in men came from the situation with my dad. I feared having my heart broken again. And somehow, instinctually, I just knew that giving Aidan even a little of me and having him reject it would hurt more than any other man’s rejection.

  Thankfully, Sylvie was there to pick up the slack and she kept us entertained during lunch. I didn’t run away this time, even though I wanted to. We finished eating and I walked them out of the hospital. Aidan offered to drive me home but I insisted I liked to walk, not wanting him to see where I lived.

  We parted ways, and as I watched them drive away in his black Range Rover, I felt more than a pang of regret. I’d been rude to Aidan. If he would stop peppering me with personal questions, I wouldn’t have to be rude. But the damn guy seemed intent on figuring me out.

  A few days later I was at Apple Butter working—eyeing a preppy ivory cardigan with a little gold bicycle stitched above the left breast, wondering if Leah would let me pay for it over time—when the door opened and I turned to find Roddy stepping into the store. He wore a gray T-shirt covered in dust and grime, jeans that were in much the same condition, and construction boots on his feet. He’d obviously come from work.

  I put the cardigan back and hurried over to him, my pulse starting to race. Roddy would only be here if there was bad news. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  He frowned at me. “Nothin’. It’s lunchtime. Thought ye could get off now so we can grab lunch together. Ye ken, now that ye’er no avoidin’ me.”

  Although I blushed at being called out on it, I was too relieved that nothing was wrong to care about his dig. I played it off, rolling my eyes. “Wait here.”

  Glancing around the store at all the pretty, feminine clothes, Roddy replied dryly, “Aye, like am gonnae venture any further in.”

  Chuckling, I hurried through the archway that led to the small accessories department to find Leah on her knees, reorganizing a jewelry stand. “Leah, can I take my lunch early?”

  “With the man with the very deep voice?” She peered up at me, a curious smile on her face.

  “He’s just a friend.”

  She leaned back on her heels to see past me, disappointment dimming her expression when she didn’t catch sight of him. “Is he as hot as his voice?”

  “Far sexier than that,” Roddy’s voice rumbled through to us, making me snort.


  Leah laughed. “Ooh, I like him.”

  “You’re practically engaged,” I reminded her.

  She pouted in response and then waved her hand at me. “Shoo, then. Go have your lunch break with the man with the delicious voice.”

  After thanking her, I grabbed my purse from the back and ushered Roddy outside before my boss decided to come and check him out.

  “So, this is a surprise,” I said as we strode up Cockburn Street.

  “We’re workin’ on flat renovations off the Mile,” he explained.

  After deciding to grab something as close by as possible, we found a table at the Royal Mile Tavern for some pub grub. Our talk was small as we ordered food and waited, and there was silence when our fish and chips arrived because Roddy never spoke until he’d had a few big bites of food. Once he got the “I’m no longer a hungry caveman” look on his face, I said, “So, are you still dating your barmaid?”

  Roddy smirked. “Her name is Petra.”

  “Petra? Where is she from?”

  “She’s Croatian.”

  “Huh. Seonaid never mentioned that.”

  He grinned at his food. “Seonaid wouldnae.”

  I sometimes wondered if he dated a certain type of woman simply to piss Seonaid off. “Is it serious?”

  “When is it ever?”

  “Don’t you want it to be? Eventually?”

  Roddy sighed heavily, and I knew the conversation was making him uncomfortable. Roddy did not do feelings. “One day, maybe.”

  “Does Petra know it isn’t serious? Because Seonaid thinks she’s angling for it to be.”

  This time he huffed, throwing me a drop-it look. “Aye, she kens.”

  Thinking of my predicament with Aidan, I wondered if maybe Roddy might be able to help me out. “So, how do you avoid telling her anything personal without coming off rude and pushing her away completely?”

  His response was a stony expression.

  I smirked. “I’m actually looking for some advice.”

  “About fuck buddies?” His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.

  I flushed, mortified that Jim’s best friend would think I’d come to him for advice about having sex with a new guy. “No. God, no!”

  “Why the ‘God, no!’? It’s okay if ye want tae move on, Nora.”