By: Jennifer Ryder



As I flip through my mail out the front of my apartment complex, a folded piece of paper falls to the ground. I pick it up, expecting some kind of advertising drivel.


We have never met, but it is really important I speak with you.

I used to go out with Aidan. Can you please call me? We need to talk.

- Tara Woods

A mobile phone number is scribbled beneath her name. I swing my head around, wondering if it was only just put into the slot. Is she here? How on earth does she know where I live?

I reread the note. Is this some kind of sick joke? Why would Aidan’s ex-girlfriend need to speak with me? What could be so important? Does she want Aidan back?

My heart squeezes tight in my chest, each question adding to the sudden sensitivity of my stomach.

As far as I’m concerned, I like pretending he hadn’t slept with anyone before me. Some may call it ignorance, but it works for me. I’d never asked Aidan about his ex for a reason. I don’t want to know about her, and I don’t want to know what she might have had with Aidan.

Call me possessive. But. He. Is. Mine.

When I get upstairs, I crumple up the letter and throw it in the bin. There’s no way I’m calling her. I’d rather stick a dirty fork in my eye. I shake off the black thoughts that followed me up the stairwell. I’m back on track, and right now, I don’t have the head-space to cope with a psycho ex.

I turn on my laptop, and flip through my notes. I’m determined to finish my uni research report on psychosocial interventions. How ironic. This is clearly not the time to be thinking about unstable ex-girlfriends.



Friday. Yay! The day I have eagerly awaited for two very long weeks. I’ve handed in my report, and Aidan has the weekend clear of work and racing. This weekend is all about us, and I don’t plan on wasting a single minute of it.

My phone rings, Loverboy flashing on the display. Just seeing this always brings a smile to my face, no matter where I am or what mood I’m in. I’m hopeless.

“I’m downstairs, babe,” he says, his voice laced with excitement.

“Be right down.” I hang up and toss my phone in my handbag, then grab my duffle bag with clothes for the next few days. I run down the steps and out of the building, and slow my step as I meet Aidan’s gaze.

In faded, blue jeans, his long legs lean back against his sleek black Ute, his arms folded, showing off those guns. He’s wearing that well-worn grey T-shirt—my favourite and his—which is tight against that firm body. Yes, I’m drooling. He’s a full eight-course degustation menu for my hungry eyes, and I’ve sacrificed being with him for two weeks for study. He flashes me my smile. The panty-dropping one. And it makes the sacrifice worthwhile. He keeps pushing me to follow my dreams, and I know that he’ll always be there, right behind me.

I should be over the butterflies by now, but they stir with each step. They always know when Aidan is near. It hasn’t even been six months since we got together, and the heat between us hasn’t shown any sign of cooling down. I never thought love would be like this, and I still regularly have to remind myself that this is real, and that Aidan is not a figment of my wild imagination.

When I reach him I dump my bags beside his dusty boots, and wrap my arms around his neck, leaning my body against his. “Hey,” I mumble, and take in as much of his manly scent as I can in one breath. It’s my favourite mix of Calvin Klein and a hard day’s work. Heaven.

“I missed you,” Aidan says low in his throat, tucking my hair behind my ear. Moving his hands to either side of my face, his mouth is on mine before I can respond, the unexpected minty taste of him sending ripples of delight through me. We need to get out of here otherwise I’m going to drag him back inside. I didn’t realise how much I missed this. Just his simple touch.

Aidan groans into my mouth as he exhales. “Hurry up and get in the car before I do you on the lawn.” He swats me on the arse, making me squeal.

I ruffle his messy, brown hair before stepping back and picking up my bags. I dawdle around to the other side of the vehicle, Aidan’s eyes tracking me as I swing the bags in time with my footsteps.