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My thoughts are an endless loop ofFuck.
I was never supposed to see him again.
“Alice.” Aidan takes the seat across from me, his presence immediately overwhelming the four-person table.
Telling him to call me by my middle name seemed harmless, back when I was sure we’d never see each other again.
At least he remembers me. This would be far more humiliating if he didn’t.
He looks surprised to see me, but not the same stunned I am.
What are the fucking odds?
“It’s Rylan. Alice is my middle name.” I glance down, grabbing my pen off the table and rolling it between two fingers. “I was, uh, that was…”
I can’t think straight.
I’m rattled, which I rarely am. Mostly because I don’t makereckless decisions that might come with consequences. I make smart, logical choices after weighing my options. And I’m usually surrounded by people who coax the same caution.
Almost a year together, and I can’t think of a single time when Walker surprised me. It hurt, walking in on him with another girl. But it didn’t surprise me. I think part of me was waiting for it to happen, so I was almost relieved when it did.
When I left Aidan in that hot tub, I never thought we’d see each other again.
That was the whole point. That night was supposed to be an impulsive, thoughtless moment I could look back on whenever my life felt boring and predictable, unblemished.
Aidan, sitting two feet away, is more than a blemish.
He’s a blowtorch to the perfect memory. The harsh light of reality, dissipating a fantasy.
I clear my throat. Square my shoulders, trying to look like I’m not tempted to slide under the table into a puddle of embarrassment. “You…go to Holt?”
“Yep. And I’m here to meet my tutor. Rylan Keller.”
There’s a sudden, sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach as all the pieces click together. “Your last name is Phillips.”
It didn’t occur to me to look up who the Phillips on the hockey team was before tonight.
I assumed—logically—that we’d never met.
Now, I’m really wishing I had done some research. I could have gotten out of this tutoring arrangement before our paths ever crossed. Had some warning, at the very least.
“Uh-huh,” he confirms.
“You’re on the hockey team.”
“Right again. And you’re Coach’s daughter.”
He doesn’t phrase it as a question, but I nod anyway.
Then wait, expecting some worry or panic to appear on hisface. It doesn’t, which is a pleasant surprise. I would have assumed hooking up with one of my Dad’s players would end with them begging me to keep it a secret. Aidan appears totally unbothered by the revelation my father is his coach. It makes me wonder what their relationship is like.
I continue playing with my pen, working hard to hide my unease from my face. “I didn’t—didn’t know you went here.”
I’m assuming the shock on my face when he showed up already conveyed that, but I don’t want him possibly thinking I knew who he was that night.
“You’re the one who told me you were British.”
My face heats. The mysterious, mature persona I strove for that night is crumbling. And…he remembers details, not just me. “I didn’t tell you I was British. I told you I went to school in London. Which Idid.”
