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“Your beach, huh?” The faintest of smiles traced his mouth. “Bit late for a run, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“The sweaty, flushed, breathless mess gave you away. Although I guess you could have been doing something else.”
“Oh my God, you can’t say that,” I murmured under my breath, running a hand over my hair.
“Relax, I’m joking. You look… nice pants.”
I glanced down at my yoga pants and internally cursed—first pajamas and now skintight yoga pants.
When I looked back up, he was still staring at my legs. “Eyes up here, hotshot.” I clicked my fingers, and he blinked.
“You done hiding, or should I expect you to disappear into thin air any second?”
“I wasn’t—” I pressed my lips together, swallowing my argument. Because he was right, I had spent the day hiding, licking my wounds.
“What did you do all day?” I changed the subject.
“A bit of this and a bit of that.”
“Are you always like this?” My brow arched.
“Charming? Funny? Mysterious?”
“I was going to go with an ass, but whatever.”
“Did you talk to the boyfriend?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Aiden held up his hands. “I’m not trying to be a dick, freckles. I just thought maybe you’d want to talk.”
“Why on earth would I talk to you about my boyfriend troubles? And for the love of God, please stop calling me that.”
“Ah, so there is trouble in paradise.”
“You saw the photos.”
And I hated that he had. It was one of the reasons I’d fled to my room, feigning a stomachache.
“She was hot.”
“Geez, way to make a girl feel better about herself.”
“That’s not… fuck.” He ran a hand down his face. “That was a shitty thing to say, sorry.”
“Why’d you say it then?”
“Because I’m an ass, freckles.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
“Want to sit?” He motioned to his pile of stuff.
“I guess.”
We sat down, and I was hyper-aware of how close he was, like the other night when he’d kissed me.
