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AIDAN: I’ll come to you instead.
AIDAN: A bunch of guys from the team are over.
I like his message, tug my hat down so it covers more of my ears, and then hustle across campus. When I approach my house ten minutes later, Aidan is leaning against his impossible-to-miss truck, looking hotter than any guy should.
He’s wearing a tight athletic shirt that stretches across his ripped chest. If I focus hard enough, which I absolutely am, I can make out the definition of each individual muscle. It doesn’t matter that I know what he looks like shirtless. That I have a photo I stare at way too much. That we’ve had sex four times now.
Once I’m close enough, he reaches out, snags me around the waist, and pulls me into his body.
He drops a scorching kiss on my lips, then pulls back like that’s a common way to greet each other. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I’m a little breathless, eating him up with my eyes. He’s here. He got here before me, even when he was hanging out with his teammates.
Aidan pulls a packet of papers out of his back pocket and hands it to me. “Brought you a present.”
“Flowers? You shouldn’t have.”
Aidan smirks. “Thought you’d appreciate me handing in my second to last assignment early.”
“Early is good. Thanks.” I take the papers from him, scanning the rough pencil sketches.
We met for tutoring yesterday. He flew through these crazy fast.
“So were you thinking we’d head inside, or…”
“Oh. Uh, yeah.”
Now that he’s here, I’m second-guessing everything.
Meeting with my advisor freaked me out. Despite Professor Nelson’s assurances about my résumé, I still feel like I’m floundering. Like I’ve bounced from school to school. I have no clue what I want to do this summer. No idea what my post-grad plan is.
I felt stressed, and Aidan’s the person I reached out to.
Not Chloe. Not Malia. Not Isla. Not Theo, who was the logical, academic choice. Not my parents.
I texted Aidan.
He hasn’t avoided me since the night in his truck. He sought me out, coming over here after Holt won the semifinals. It was a booty call…but it felt like more than a booty call too. We had sex—twice—but we also talked. Laughed.
We’ve barely seen each other since, me busy with classes and him preparing for the next round of playoffs. We haven’t discussed whatever this is, and calling him for comfort feels very girlfriendy. Him immediately showing up seems very boyfriendy.
And now he’s handing me his Stats assignment, reminding me that not only are we in a tutoring arrangement, we’re in one that’s about to end.
“Pretty sure some of my roommates are home,” I tell him as we head up the front walk.
Aidan shrugs, appearing indifferent to that piece of information.
Sure enough, Chloe’s making a smoothie in the kitchen. Dakota is sitting on the couch, and Mason is slouched next to her. This time his gaze is focused on the television screen instead of his phone’s.
They’re watching the replay of a hockey game, ironically. Professional, not college.
“Hey, guys,” I say.
“Hey, how was—” Chloe glances up and immediately stops talking, her mouth snapping shut and her cheeks turning pink.
I strive for nonchalance as I walk toward the fridge and grab a can of soda out. “Want one?” I ask Aidan.
“Yeah, sure,” he replies, leaning a hip against the counter.
