Chapter Eight
As I turn into the visitor parking space and put my car in park, I cringe.
Scarlett. What are you doing? I ask myself. Why are you putting yourself in this position? WHY?
I swallow hard as I stare down at my steering wheel. I accepted Aiden’s offer to have a late-night dinner with him. I was downright GIDDY that he asked. I know we can only be friends. I know that. Yet here I am, putting myself in a place where my hopeless crush on him can only grow.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I say, pressing my head against the steering wheel. Why am I doing this to myself? Do I live for torture? Because that’s what this is. I’m going into the apartment of a man who admitted he would ask me out if circumstances were different.
But they will never be different enough for us to date, unless Aiden plays for another team or my dad moves on to a different coaching position.
Two things that I don’t want to happen or even look likely to happen in the near future.
So what am I doing here?
I know I want to be friends, and I definitely feel like Aiden is becoming one. But should I have a friend I wish I could date?
I mean, how would it feel if he started seeing someone else? Would I still want to be friends?
I jerk my head up. Oh, Scarlett, SHUT UP.
I blink. My whole life I’ve been so good with rules and boundaries. I follow them. Live by them. If a red flag is thrown, I’m off running the other direction in search of green ones.
This is the one time in my life I’ve chosen to ignore them. There has to be a reason for that, right?
It’s not like I’m committing a crime. I’m just being a little … reckless, perhaps?
I want to enjoy his company. Flirt with him. Be reckless.
But I only want to be reckless with Aiden. Even if it ends up hurting me.
Okay, green-flag, moralistic, rules-loving self, you can shut up now. It’s time to do something you want. Something Aiden wants.
And suffer the consequences later.
I text Aiden and let him know I’m here. He texts me back, telling me if I go towards the lobby, I’ll be able to pull him up on the video monitor and then he can let me in.
I step out of the car and walk up to the main entrance, and sure enough, there’s a video monitor next to the door. I try to settle my anxiety, pausing to inhale and exhale, and then I call up Aiden.
Within seconds, his gorgeous, smiling face appears on the screen and my anxiety is instantly replaced by excitement.
“Hey, glad you could make it. Come on up. I’m on the thirty-first floor, number 3105.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say, smiling back at him.
The door clicks open, and I step inside the posh lobby, which is all white marble and huge modern light fixtures hanging overhead. I make my way to the elevators and press the up button. Anticipation builds with each second I wait for one to descend.
Ding!
An empty elevator opens, and I step inside, pressing the button to close the doors. Soon I’m heading up to the thirty-first floor, and my stomach flips in excitement.
When the elevator reaches Aiden’s floor, I step out and make my way to his apartment. I stop in front of his door, deciding to embrace all the red flags that come with this situation, and knock.
Milo begins barking the second my knuckles rap against the wood. Aiden’s muffled voice says something, and Milo goes silent. When I hear the door handle click on the other side, my heart leaps inside my chest.
The door opens, and as soon as I see Aiden, all of my red flags have disappeared.
Because in this moment, with the way he’s looking at me with those gray eyes and the beautiful smile lighting up his whole face?
This is nothing but green-flag territory for me.
“Scarlett,” he says, putting his hand against the door frame. “Thanks for coming over. Welcome.”
Oh. My. God.
That move—that sexy lean against the door frame, the way his white T-shirt is hugging his chest, the worn jeans and the fact that he’s barefoot—has completely undone me. I don’t have the ability to speak or think or do anything except stare at how completely beautiful he looks.
Aiden moves aside, and I see Milo sitting on the floor behind him, his tail swishing against the light-colored hardwood floor. I step past Aiden, inhaling an intoxicating scent that smells like a combination of soap and a delicious fresh, citrusy cologne.
“Thank you for inviting me over,” I say as I regain my ability to think. I hear the door click behind me, and I shift my attention to the adorable dog sitting on the floor. “This must be Milo.”
“That’s my boy,” Aiden says, and as I look up at him, I see all the love and pride in his eyes for his dog.
GREEN FREAKING FLAG.
“May I pet him?” I ask.
Aiden nods. “Yes, he’s friendly.”
I put my hand down in front of Milo to sniff, which he does. Then I kneel before him. “Where should I pet him?”
“He loves behind the ears.”
I give Milo a good scratch behind the ears and he gets up, his tail going a mile a minute as he moves to lick my face, which makes me laugh.
“Milo! Stop,” Aiden commands.
“No, it’s all right, I love puppy kisses,” I say.
I can feel Aiden staring at me, but I don’t dare look at him. I take my time with Milo so I can settle my nerves. When I think I’m ready, I rise and turn to Aiden, who is indeed staring at me. As soon as my gaze meets his, he clears his throat. “Are you hungry? I can start dinner.”
“I am.”
“Do you like steak?”
“Yes. Am I being treated to a steak dinner tonight?”
Aiden gives me a lopsided grin. “If you’d like one.”
I think he could offer me soggy nachos, and I’d be excited about it.
“Yes, I think I would,” I say, smiling back at him.
“Make yourself at home,” he says, walking into the kitchen, which is open to the living room.
I look around Aiden’s apartment. It’s very simplistic and clean.
The kitchen is pale blond wood with white marble granite countertops.
The furniture looks Scandinavian to me—natural and minimal.
There’s a cream-colored sectional sofa and an ottoman serving as a coffee table—with nothing on it.
Small, light-wood tables flank each side, with nothing but lamps and remotes on them.
A large flat-screen TV hangs on the opposite wall.
Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a view of the patio and the ocean and beach below, the lights of Miami twinkling all around—a breathtaking sight.
I set my purse down on the sofa, continuing to take in the space that Aiden calls home. The dining area has a round table and four chairs. Nothing on it. I move into the kitchen—Aiden hardly has anything on his countertops, either.
I chuckle. “I can see very clearly now why you couldn’t live with Wyatt.”
Aiden looks up from the steak he’s seasoning with salt. “I might have undersold what a neat freak I am.”
“You are incredibly neat. I’m not a messy person—but I’m not this tidy, either.”
“I can only function in chaos on the ice,” Aiden says. “Off it? I like things neat.”
I think about what would happen if Aiden and I—and this is purely hypothetical speaking, of course—were to be involved. His life would become instant chaos the second my dad found out about us.
I swallow. Aiden’s calm, ordered life would become very, very messy.
So that’s another reason why we can only stay friends, isn’t it?
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have offered you a drink,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “What can I get you? I have water, sparkling water, beer. That’s it, I’m afraid.”
“A sparkling water sounds perfect,” I say.
Aiden stops what he’s doing and opens the fridge, stooping down and looking inside. “I have lime and black cherry.”
“Lime, thank you.”
“You got it.”
Aiden retrieves a can and grabs a glass, pausing to fill it with ice. He pours me a drink and then sets it down in front of me before he goes back to preparing the steaks.
“So is your steak handling as good as your puck handling?” I ask, taking a sip of the bubbly water.
“I think so. I also like the fact that you know what good puck handling is.”
“I do. Can I help you with anything?”
“Nope. You’re my guest. Are you okay with roasted veggies and sweet potatoes?”
“I’m fine with that,” I say, taking a seat on one of the tall chairs at the counter.
“I’ll confess I didn’t make those,” Aiden says, inclining his head toward some vegetables in glass containers. “I have a lot of prepared foods from a nutritionist. But I promise I’ve learned how to cook a steak.”
“Medium-rare?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.
“I can do medium-rare. Only because that’s what I like to eat. I perfected that one.”
“Then it’s my lucky day.”
His eyes meet mine. “I think it’s my lucky day, too.”
Despite knowing the boundaries we can never cross, my eyes dart to his full lips. What would it be like to kiss him?
I might be all about green flags and breaking rules tonight, but that’s one rule neither one of us is willing to cross.
For Aiden’s sake more than mine.
I lift my gaze to meet his, and I find Aiden is already watching me. “I know this is a bad idea,” he says simply. “You being here and all.”
My heart drops into my stomach, waiting to see where he’s going with this.
“Because right now, when I saw you staring at my mouth—” Aiden begins before I cut him off.
“I—I’m sor—” I don’t get much out before Aiden interrupts me in return.
“No, don’t be sorry. Because I was staring at yours, too. And wondering what it would be like to kiss you.”
Now my heart thunders against my rib cage. A gasp escapes my lips.
Aiden rakes a hand through his hair. “I know that’s a line we can’t cross,” he says, his fingers pushing his hair back repeatedly. “So it was stupid on my part to invite you to come hang out. A mistake.”
His words hit me hard. I bite my lip. I hate hearing that, but I know he’s speaking the truth.
It hurts. More than it should for someone I barely know.
“Do … do you want me to go?” I ask in a near whisper.
“No.”
I gulp. He takes a breath of air and exhales loudly. “I’m going to lay this out here, Scarlett, and I want you to be sure.”
I swallow nervously, grateful that the barrier of the breakfast bar is between the two of us right now because I really want to touch him.
“I know there are two choices. We can be friends. Friends who see each other, but never cross that line. Or we decide it’s for the best that we never see each other outside of team stuff.”
I know which decision is the right one.
And it’s the one I continually reject whenever I think of Aiden.
“I don’t like either of those options,” he says.
I blink. “But there’s nothing else we can do.”
“Yes, there is.” Aiden moves around from his side of the counter. I begin to tremble as he stops mere inches from me. I ache to reach out and touch him, but I keep my hands clamped at my sides so I don’t.
I look down at his hands, and one of them flexes, his fingers closing into a tight grip. Goose bumps sweep over my skin as I realize he wants to touch me, too.
Aiden unfurls his hand, letting it fall by his side. Then I see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows hard. It seems like an eternity passes before he speaks, and the air between us is sparking with electricity.
All I’m aware of is him. Of how tall and athletic his body is, how Aiden’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, how his scent is practically my own, he’s standing so close to me.
“Scarlett, what if we just say screw it? Screw the rules and expectations and everything else. What if we say screw it and do what we want?” Aiden says, his voice rough, his eyes desperately searching mine. “And what if you let me kiss you?”