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“You remember Chloe?” I ask. “And this is one of my other roommates, Dakota, and her boyfriend, Mason.”
“You’re Aidan Phillips,” Mason states, his normally indifferent expression more animated than I’ve ever seen it before.
“Yep,” Aidan confirms. “Nice to meet you, man.”
But he delivers it in a hard, flinty tone that sounds more likeLet’s never talk again. The last time I heard him talk that way, it was aimed at Clayton Thomas.
“Library was crowded, so we came over to study in myroom,” I say, waving the papers Aidan gave me around like a Fourth of July sparkler. “See you guys later.”
Aidan follows me down the hallway and into my bedroom without saying a word. Once the door is shut behind us, he asks, “Does that Mason guy hang out here a lot?”
“That was only the second time I’ve met him.” I pause, watching Aidan toss his jacket away. “Why?”
“I don’t like him.”
“You can join the club.” I hold the papers he gave me up. “Should I grade these now?”
Aidan shrugs, which isn’t very helpful.
I was assuming he was coming over for sex, and he seems to be treating it like a study session.
I’m not sure what to make of that.
“What are these notecards for?” he asks, flipping through the stack on my desk.
“They’re for a presentation next week.”
“Is that what you’re stressed about?”
He’s more astute than I realized. That, or I’m more transparent.
“No.”
Aidan drops the deck, then turns to face me. “You feel like talking about it?”
I shake my head. “No. Anything you wanted to discuss?”
He’s fighting a smile now. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Great.”
I set the soda down on my desk. Then rise up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
Aidan reacts immediately, his hands spreading across the small of my back. They slide lower, cupping my ass and pulling our hips together.
I slip my hands under his shirt, exploring the impressivetopography of his back. He groans, his hands reversing course and sneaking under my sweater instead.
He pulls back, running his tongue along his lower lip as he studies me. Then he reaches out, pulling off my pink hat and tossing it toward my desk.
“This is my favorite hat,” Aidan tells me.
It’s the one I was wearing in Colorado, and I think he remembers that. He commented on it when we ran into each other in the coffee shop a few weeks ago too.
“Mine too,” I say.
He tugs my sweater over my head next, his eyes darkening when he sees the light-blue bra I’m wearing underneath. I’ve retired most of my more comfortable cotton underwear since we started hooking up. Just in case.
His hands leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they move up and down my ribcage before palming my breasts. I bite my bottom lip as he cups them through the lace, the sudden burst of pleasure almost painful.
