The bell above the door jingled as Aiden stepped into the crafting store, the smell of wax, paint, and fresh pine lingering in the air. Sunlight caught the glittering jars and dangling beads, making them sparkle like tiny stars.
Rosalie followed behind, heels clicking softly on the polished wooden floor. "So… this is fun for you?" she asked, amusement in her voice as she scanned the aisles.
Aiden shook his head, ducking under a hanging display of ribbons. "Not usually. But seeing everything in person… It helps. I like picking out what I need myself."
She tilted her head, smirking. "You mean this is about being in a candy store?"
"Maybe," he said with a grin. "But more like… making sure everything's perfect for what I'm working on."
He made his way to the art supplies section first, grabbing a full drawing set from the top shelf, flipping it open to check the pencils. "Yup… all the grades I need," he muttered, placing it carefully in his basket.
Rosalie leaned in, curiosity sparking. "You always so meticulous?"
"Only when it counts," he said lightly, scanning the next shelf for paint brushes. He picked up several sizes, testing the bristles with a flick of his finger before adding them to the basket.
"You really go all in," she said, smirking. "What is this, a masterpiece or a hobby?"
"Depends," he said, winking. "Maybe both."
He moved down an aisle toward the modeling section, plucking up a bucket of non-toxic clay. He hefted it lightly in his hands. "Good quality… pliable, smooth. Exactly what I need."
"And of course you need the tools," Rosalie said, nodding toward a rack of clay sculpting tools. Aiden smiled, picking a set that included every imaginable implement: knives, shaping sticks, smoothing tools. He dropped them neatly into the basket.
"Someone's very prepared," she teased.
"I like to be," he said, scanning the shelves for paints. He selected a vibrant mix, acrylics, primary colors, a few metallics—and arranged them carefully in the basket. "Gotta make sure the colors are perfect."
Rosalie shook her head, laughing softly. "You really do take this seriously."
Aiden's eyes brightened as he reached the wood section. Pulling down a large wooden box frame, he turned it over in his hands, inspecting the corners and smoothness of the grain. "Perfect. Just the right size for what I have in mind."
Rosalie watched him, leaning slightly closer. "I'm impressed. You really know what you want."
"Or at least… I know what I need," he replied with a grin, adding the box to his growing collection. "And it helps to have someone around who notices," he added, letting his eyes flick to hers.
She smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Noticed. And mildly amused."
He laughed softly. "I'll take that as a win."
Basket full, supplies in order, they continued down the aisles together. Between teasing remarks and soft laughter, a quiet intimacy grew, an unspoken thread linking them, making the store feel like their own little world.
"Why do you do art?" Rosalie asked, drifting toward a shelf of acrylics, her fingers brushing over a few tubes.
"I don't know," he said, his voice low, almost guarded. "It helps me think. Or… not think."
"That's why I like fixing cars," she admitted, smiling softly. "It's quiet. No one expects you to explain what's in your head."
He chuckled under his breath, glancing over his shoulder. "Didn't peg you as a gearhead type."
"And what type did you peg me as?" she challenged lightly, stepping closer, letting her arm brush his.
He smiled, half-smirk tugging at his mouth. "The kind that talks more than she admits."
Her lips quivered, but she didn't argue. Instead, she watched him pick up a pack of charcoal pencils, a small sketchbook, and then move toward the paint aisle.
"What are you getting all that for?" she asked.
"Figured I'd start again," he said, crouching to inspect the clay. "I haven't had my own set of art stuff in a while."
"Since when?"
"Since I had space to use it," he replied, standing and adding the clay to his basket.
Rosalie tilted her head, following him closely. "Who taught you to draw?"
He paused, looking at the brushes in his hand before answering. "No one. I'm self-taught. But I had a lot of inspiration from my guardian."
"Guardian?" Her brow furrowed. "I thought you were living with your mom?"
Aiden's expression flickered, then settled into something quieter. "No, I didn't. Me and Steve only just recently got acquainted. I was in foster care most of my life. He didn't even know I existed until… a few months ago."
Rosalie's gaze softened, curiosity replaced by something gentler. "That's… heavy."
He shrugged, looking down at the clay bucket in his hand. "It's life. You get used to people not knowing what to do with you."
A small silence settled, charged with shared understanding, until Aiden looked up again. "You've been asking a lot about me," he said, a little grin tugging at his lips. "Mind if I ask a few questions about you?"
Rosalie leaned against the counter, pretending to think. "Fair's fair. Go ahead."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly, the heat between them subtly rising. "Family?"
Her smile softened. "Adopted by the Cullen's. Jasper and I bounced through foster homes too. Not many wanted us. Then Carlisle… took us in. Made us feel like we belonged."
"And hobbies?" Aiden asked, his hand brushing hers as he picked up a paintbrush.
"Reading, cars, music, fashion," she said, letting the tip of her fingers linger on his for just a moment. "And I like enhancing and fixing things. Makes life feel… controllable."
He chuckled softly, eyes flicking to hers, voice dropping. "I think I'd like to see that side of you sometime."
Her lips curved into a teasing, knowing smile. "Maybe you will."
The aisle felt warmer suddenly, filled with the faint scent of paint, clay, and something unspoken between them, curiosity, attraction, and the quiet pull of two people discovering each other while surrounded by the tools of creativity.
Aiden's fingers lingered on the edge of the clay bucket as their hands brushed, and he let a slow grin tug at his lips. "I'm just saying… Saturdays suit you. You're… warmer. Easier to be around."
Rosalie's smirk returned, sharper this time, her posture stiffening just enough to remind him of the famous ice queen everyone whispered about. "Warmer, huh? Careful. Compliments like that might get you in trouble," she said lightly, letting her voice carry that cool, aloof edge.
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And is this… your warning? Or your way of keeping me in line?"
"Both," she said with a faint shrug, casually rearranging the brushes in her hands as if they weren't having this charged little exchange. "I can be charming and warm… but only on my terms."
Aiden chuckled, stepping closer despite her aloof stance. "Noted. I like a challenge."
Her eyes flicked to his, a flash of mischief and irritation mingling. "I'm sure you do," she said smoothly. "Don't get too comfortable thinking you can read me like an open sketchbook."
He let out a low laugh, tilting his head. "Oh, I'm aware. You're full of surprises. But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy discovering a few of them."
Rosalie's lips quirked into a teasing, faintly dangerous smile. "Careful, Aiden. You start getting too many ideas, and I might decide you're too bold for your own good."
"Boldness is part of my charm," he said, smirking, holding up a paintbrush as if it were a wand. "Besides… I'm just appreciating the art in front of me."
Her smirk softened ever so slightly, though the aloofness still shimmered in her gaze. "Flattery, observation… I'll give you that. But don't think it earns you free reign."
Aiden shrugged, adding the last item, the large wooden box frame, to his basket. "Fair enough," he said quietly, letting a playful tension hang in the air. "I'll earn it… slowly."
Rosalie glanced at him sideways, expression teasing yet unreadable. "I'll be watching. Don't disappoint me."
And just like that, the famous ice queen was asserting herself again, but Aiden couldn't help noticing, beneath that carefully maintained aloofness, she was still subtly thawing in his presence. The little flashes of warmth made the quiet intensity between them all the more charged.
They moved toward the cash register, as Aiden placed the cart of supplies on the counter, the cashier scanning each item with slow, rhythmic beeps. The smell of paper and pine polish filled the air. He could feel Rosalie beside him, arms crossed, watching him with that faintly amused half-smile she'd worn all afternoon.
As the cashier bagged the last of the items, Aiden slid a few bills across the counter, thanked them, and grabbed his phone.
Aiden: Got everything. I need a lift.
Aiden: [sends store address]
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, turning just as Rosalie tilted her head toward the door.
"Well," she said, her voice smooth but lighter now, "that was… unexpectedly fun."
Aiden grinned, hefting the bag of supplies. "You say that like you didn't enjoy yourself."
"I said it was fun," she replied, smirking. "Don't push your luck."
They stepped outside together, the soft chime of the door fading behind them. The late afternoon light bathed the street in gold, catching in Rosalie's hair as a faint breeze stirred the air, carrying the smell of the ocean and paint.
Aiden shifted the bags in his hands. "Thanks for tagging along. I probably would've spent twice as long in there deciding between brush sizes."
"I noticed," she said, glancing at him with a small smile. "You take your time with things. Kind of refreshing, actually."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "Most people call that indecisive."
"Then most people don't pay attention," she said simply.
For a brief second, their eyes met, steady, quiet, familiar now.
She took a small step back, her expression returning to something more teasing. "Well, I'll let you get back to whatever project you're secretly working on."
"Secretly?" he asked, smiling. "You sound like you're curious."
"Maybe a little," she said, shrugging. Then, after a beat, her lips curved into a sly grin. "Text me if you need directions. I give really good ones."
Aiden chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Do," she said, her tone smooth, almost daring. "See you, Aiden."
"See you, Rosalie."
She turned, her heels tapping lightly on the pavement as she headed down the street, sunlight catching on her hair until she disappeared around the corner.
Just as she did, a familiar pickup truck pulled up to the curb. Steve leaned out the window, sleeves rolled up, his hands still smelling faintly of salt and fish from the market.
"Need a hand?" he called out, eyeing the bags stacked in Aiden's arms.
Aiden grinned, setting them down. "Yeah. You're a lifesaver."
Steve glanced down the street where Rosalie had gone, then back at Aiden, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Friend of yours?"
Aiden hesitated, glancing in the same direction. "Something like that."
Steve chuckled low, shifting the truck into park. "Uh-huh. Something like that."
Aiden laughed, shaking his head as he loaded the bags into the back seat. The warmth of the late afternoon settled around them, quiet, calm, and somewhere down the block, Rosalie's laughter still echoed faintly, fading into the sound of the ocean breeze.