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It’s an older model with a couple of dents in the back bumper. Knowing what his family’ssecondhome looks like, I’m shocked it’s what he drives.
He unlocks the car, then climbs into the driver’s seat.
I round the rear and open the passenger side, staring at the purple sweatshirt flung on the passenger seat.
A horrifying possibility occurs to me. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I blurt.
I assumed not, since he initiated things between us.
But it’s possible he’s one of those guys who thinksif they don’t ask, don’t tellis an acceptable policy. Finding out I not only have to interact with my one-night stand but that I also might have been the other woman that night would be a real low point to start the semester.
“No.” Aidan’s tone is short, his expression annoyed.
And I realize there are two ways to take that question. That I just heavily implied he’s a cheater.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Just because your ex was an asshole doesn’t mean that I am.”
I somehow forgot I’d mentioned Walker to him. At least I didn’t say how long it had been since we’d broken up, so he has no clue those scars should be healed by now.
“That’s probably Harlow’s sweatshirt. This is Hart’s ride. I’m just borrowing it.” Aidan starts the car. “Check the registration in the glove box, if you don’t believe me.”
The vehicle we’re in makes a whole lot more sense, all of a sudden.
“Why are you borrowing your friend’s car?”
“My truck is in the shop.”
“What’s wrong with your truck?”
“If the mechanic knew that, I’d be driving it.”
“Where did you take it?” I ask.
“Dave’s Auto. Why?”
“Just curious. Take a left here,” I instruct. “It’s the brown house at the end of the block, on the right.”
He flips on a blinker before taking the turn, which makes mesmile for no reason. I assumed he was the type of driver to take stop signs as a suggestion.
“So…you’re a math major,” he says.
“Yep.” My tone is short, because his is more amused than admiring. I doubt he’ll come up with any nerd jokes that I haven’t already heard before.
“Because…”
“Because I’m good at math.”
“I’m good at hockey, and I’m not majoring in it.”
I don’t state the obvious—that hockey isn’t a major Holt offers. “You’regood, huh? Are you in the top five for scoring leaders?”
The question is a gamble, because I have no clue what his stats are. But my impression of Aidan from our first tutoring session is that he does the minimum and not much more. It sounds like flunked his final because he couldn’t be bothered to put much effort into taking the exam. That’s not the personality of an aggressive, hungry player who tops leaderboards.
Aidan’s silence answers for him, and I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
Antagonizing or insulting him isn’t conducive to getting through this tutoring arrangement as painlessly as possible.
