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Mentioning it was a stop before returning to attend college in my hometown didn’t seem like relevant information at the time. Didn’t fit with the fantasy.
“And now you’re here.” Aidan’s tone is matter-of-fact, no inflection suggesting how he feels about it.
“I grew up here.” My tone is petulant.I washerefirst, I’m saying.
He smirks. “My condolences.”
I fight the small smile that wants to appear. “Somerville’s not that bad.”
Very rich, coming from me. I fled as fast and as far as I could.
“If you say so.”
“You’re not from Washington, I’m assuming?”
“No,” is Aidan’s only response.
I know he doesn’t live in Colorado. Jess said the eight-bedroom chalet across the street from her family’s place sits empty most of the year. It’s why I was adventurous enough toventure into his yard in the first place, assuming no one was home.
I roll the pen between my fingers, refocusing on the present and why we’re both here. “So you failed, huh?”
A muscle jumps in Aidan’s straight jaw.
Part of me thought his appearance was enhanced by the moonlight and the excitement of encountering him.
No such luck—he’s still gorgeous under the library’s fluorescent lighting and the lens of my complete mortification.
“I’m bored by numbers,” he tells me, leaning back and stretching. His shirt lifts a couple of inches, flashing me the carved V and thin trail of hair that I thought was a myth until I saw him naked.
I swallow, forcing myself to focus on our conversation instead of how annoyingly attractive he is. “Bored by numbers… So, of course you’re a business major.”
“Means to an end.”
“Flunking?”
His green gaze darkens. “Visited any hot tubs recently?”
I tap my pen against the stack of papers Professor Carrigan left for me at the student center, chewing on the inside of my cheek. She too could have given me more of a heads-up, instead of referring to Aidan as Mr. Phillips in our emails.
I’m not sure how much any warning would have helped, though. His presence is…a lot. I don’t know how I could have prepared to encounter it again, even if I knew I was going to.
“Did you bring your textbook?” I ask, choosing to ignore his last comment.
The only way I’ll possibly get through this is if I switch to pretending that nightwasa wet dream and I’m the only one with any memory of it.
Remorse flashes across Aidan’s face, answering for him.
He came unprepared.Shocker. Between his slouch and the casual way he taps the table—not to mention why we’re here in the first place—it’s obvious Aidan doesn’t take academics seriously.
My molars grind with the realization I’m stuck with a lazy jock.
He hasn’t apologized for being eight-and-a-half minutes late, and I’m undecided if that should be a strike against him as well. He might be handling it better, but he obviously wasn’t expecting to see me here either. And I’m the one who lied during our last encounter, even if it seemed harmless at the time.
I pull my copy of the textbook out of my backpack and shove it toward him, along with the first assignment his professor sent me.
“We’re going over summation notation and measures of variability tonight. We’ll work through a couple of new topics each week, then you’ll complete an assignment on it before our next meeting that I’ll grade and get back to you. Got it?”
“Got it.” He’s scanning the paper instead of looking at me, which makes it easier to converse with him.
