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Clayton looks puzzled too, so I don’t think there’s some ancient animosity that explains Aidan’s behavior.
“Saw you guys won,” Clayton comments cautiously. I think he’s subtly trying to ask why Aidan seems to be in such a bad mood.
“Yep.” Aidan takes a seat on the stool next to mine. His denim-clad thigh brushes my leg, and I almost jump from the contact.
His soapy, masculine scent surrounds me, and I fight the urge to breathe deeper. I pick up my glass and drain half my beer in one gulp, telling myself to chill the fuck out.
Our last study session ended on good terms, although I’m suspicious he knew what he was doing the entire time and our second session could have lasted five minutes, just like the first one did. Aidan got both practice problems right without taking a single note during my explanation.
Either way, we’re fine. Good. Great.
Or at least, I thought we were…
“Hey, I’m Aidan.” He introduces himself to Isla, his voice several degrees warmer than it was talking to Clayton.
She blushes, a brighter red than when Clayton was teasing her. I’m pretty sure Clayton notices, because the smile that greeted Aidan’s arrival has totally disappeared.
“I know,” Isla says. “I’m Isla.”
“You a big hockey fan, Isla?” Aidan leans forward, flashing her a heart-stopping smile.
Now, Clayton looks like he swallowed something bitter. I pray I’m not about to end up in the middle of a jock pissing match and also wouldn’t mind seeing him take a swing at Aidan. It’s what I wish I could do, if I wasn’t hiding my irritation much better than Clayton is.
And by hiding it, I mean chugging beer so I can’t say anything.
Isla’s cheeks are bright red now. “Of Holt hockey? Sure am.”
“Greatanswer.”
“Hey, Aidan. Awesome game. Can I get you a drink?”
The blonde waitress who served us earlier has appeared. Much faster than she showed up when Isla and I first sat down, I can’t help but notice.
“Usual, please,” he says. “Thanks, Stacey.”
“You got it.” Stacey winks at him before sauntering away.
“So what’s your major, Isla?” Aidan asks.
His leg brushes mine beneath the table again, and I stiffen even more. My posture resembles a puppet’s.
“Computer science,” she tells him.
“That’s cool. Do you know how to make your own app?”
Computer science iscool, but math is amusing?
“I could code a basic one, yeah,” Isla answers.
“Awesome.”
Stacey returns with his beer in record time, and Aidan flashes her another one of those priceless grins.
Priceless, because they seem to get him whatever he wants.
Attention, alcohol, praise.
My irritation, which he clearly doesn’t care about.
