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He turns and reopens the window. Leans low, treating me to a spectacular view of his muscular ass, and then returns with a brown paper bag in hand that he sets on my desk before closing the window once again. “I know you’re supposed to bring sick people chicken noodle soup, or whatever, but I don’t know where to get that from and I was already getting Mexican.”
I stare at the bag. “You brought me dinner?” I ask, just as shocked as when I saw him outside my window.
Aidan nods. “You said you were sick.”
I don’t miss the thread of suspicion in his voice as he looks me over, one corner of his mouth lifting as he takes in my bedraggled appearance.
“Iamsick,” I tell him.
His small smirk turns into a full, wide smile. “Yeah, I know. Your nose looks like Rudolph’s.”
“Shut up.” I grab the bag off my desk and open it, my stomach grumbling at the delicious smells wafting from it.
I recognize the logo printed on the side of the bag from the Mexican place in Loughton. One of my favorite restaurants.
He has good taste in food.
“What are you watching?” Aidan asks, pulling off his Holt Hockey jacket. He drapes it on the back of my desk chair and nods toward my open laptop. He’s wearing an unbuttoned flannel with the sleeves rolled up underneath.
I pause, mid-unwrapping my food. “You’re staying?”
“Do you want me to go?”
“I’m definitely contagious. It’s a terrible time for you to get sick, right when you’re finally contributing to the team.”
Holt advanced from the first round of the playoffs, mostly thanks to him. Aidan scored two goals in the team’s four-one victory over Barnett.
Aidan grins. “Just following your instructions, tutor.”
I’m not sure what possessed me to tell him to kick ass. I was planning to ignore Aidan—ignore all the hockey players looking at me like I was a zoo animal as they waited to board the bus to their first playoff game—uncomfortable and annoyed with myself for not getting to my dad’s office earlier. I’d wanted to quickly wish him luck before the team left, that was it, but all theguys showed up at the rink a lot earlier than I thought they would.
Aidan’s flannel gets stripped off next, leaving him in a cotton T-shirt. “Your room is sweltering.”
I guess…he’s staying.
“I know.” I turned up the thermostat when I got home, after shivering all morning. “I’m sick,” I remind him.
“Thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
I focus on my food, pulling the foil off the burrito so carefully it comes away in one piece without a single tear. “No, I wouldn’t…” I exhale. “I’m sorry I took off last week. I know you’re busy and that you have a lot riding on passing the retake. I shouldn’t have left without reviewing the assignment with you. That was really unprofessional, and I—”
“You thinkthat’swhat I care about? That you never reviewed the assignment?”
“I mean…yeah. You’re taking yourresponsibilities seriously, remember? So far, you’ve aced everything I’ve given you, so I don’t think you actually need to worry about passing the second time. But I want to make sure that you do, and I shouldn’t have left. So I’m sorry. I just…freaked out a little.”
I tell all of that to the burrito he brought me, unable to meet his eyes.
“I was worried you were avoiding me because I was worried you were avoiding me, Rylan. I wasn’t worried you were avoiding me because I’m mad you left or worried about re-failing the final.”
“Oh. Okay.”
In my tiny room, Aidan’s presence is overwhelming.
I can smell his cologne mixed with a whiff of laundry detergent every time I sniffle. The scent saturates the air surrounding me. And no matter where I look, I can feel his gaze fixed on me.
Finally, I muster the courage to look up and make eye contact. He’s leaning against the side of my mattress, which is a strange enough sight. But the look he’s giving me is weird too. There’s no playful smirk or easygoing grin. His gaze is intense, bordering on searching. He’s serious and focused—on me.
“Best in Show,” I tell him.
