Chapter Thirteen
THIRTEEN
Micah
Aidan Scott is coughing his brains out, and I’m giddy.
I know that makes me a jerk. I don’t care.
He’s the one who ogled my chest, refused to apologize for it, blamed it on the way I was dressed, then did it again when I told him not to.
Maybe sneaking hot sauce into his sandwich wasn’t the most mature thing in the world. It was honestly probably pretty cruel.
But he deserved it. If he’s going to treat me like a piece of meat, I’m not going to just stand there and take it.
I’m going to get back at him.
I cover my mouth as I stand outside the door of the men’s bathroom.
I’ll admit laughing about it is pretty messed up. But he’s done some pretty messed-up stuff to me too. So I guess we’ll call this even.
Just then the door flies open, revealing Aidan’s flushed face glaring at me.
I step back, jolted.
I stare up at him, mesmerized. His square jaw is bulging as he bites down. His nostrils are flaring. His chest is heaving with each breath he takes. His eyes are two inky pools of black ringed in ice blue, and there’s a sheen of sweat glistening along his forehead.
He looks…really hot when he’s pissed and sweaty.
My brain slingshots to a place it shouldn’t go. It imagines Aidan on top of me, that same intense, furious look on his face, breathing hard.
Except he’s not mad. He’s turned on. By me.
I press my eyes shut and shake my head, willing the visual away.
What the hell was that?
“You think this is funny?” he barks, his tone hard and sharp.
I jolt back to the present. Oh, right. Right now we’re about to fight because he’s angry that I’m laughing at him while he coughed up his lungs.
I clear my throat and straighten up to my full height. “Maybe.”
Fury flashes in his eyes as he glowers at me. “You’re a real piece of work, Micah.”
I glare at him. “I could say the same about you.”
He grips the door frame, leaning closer to me. “And what the hell do you mean by that?”
I cross my arms. “Do you think I missed the way you looked at me this morning? Specifically at my chest?”
He exhales, his gaze on my sharpening. “That was an accident. I dropped my napkin and you happened to be in my line of sight, and—”
“Oh my god, you really are pathetic. The first time you look at my chest, you say it was my fault, that you couldn’t help it. And the second time it happens, it’s a mistake. I guess nothing is ever your fault, is it?” I toss up my hands in frustration. “You’re just a helpless man being bombarded with all these distracting visuals.”
He purses his lips, clearly pissed at how I’m mocking him. He tugs a hand through those thick chestnut waves. He leans his face closer to mine. “It’s the truth, whether you want to believe it or not.”
Anger pummels my insides. This guy. Either he thinks I’m a complete idiot or he’s brash and arrogant enough to lie to me while looking me dead in the eye. It’s probably both, honestly.
Aidan narrows his gaze at me. “Some advice for you, Micah—grow the hell up. It’s rude to laugh at people when they’re sick. It makes you look like a callous psycho. So whatever you need to do to get that part of yourself under control, do it. It’s pathetic.”
My jaw falls to the floor. The fucking nerve of this guy to speak to me like that.
The corner of his mouth drags up in a smug smirk. He looks so pleased with himself for rendering me speechless.
But I take a breath. I bite back the urge to call him every awful name I can think of. Instead, I take a page out of his book.
I look him in the eye as I smirk at him and say, “I have some advice for you too—you should double-check your food before you eat it. You have no idea the lengths people will go to get back at you for the way you’ve mistreated them.”
I savor the two seconds that Aidan’s eyes widen with recognition. And then I turn around and walk away before he can say another word to me.
* * *
“Holy shit! You did it, Micah! You actually did it.” Jordan beams at me from my phone screen. “You went hardcore revenge on Professor Douche Canoe.” She rests her palm on her chest and aims a joking wistful expression at me. “I’ve never been this proud of you.”
I shake my head and laugh. “I still can’t believe I put hot sauce in his sandwich. It was so…evil. And sneaky.”
She shakes her head. “Sneaky? Yes. Evil? Not even close.”
I start to say otherwise, but she stops me.
“Evil is doing something wicked and cruel for no reason. Like purposely starving someone to death. Or conning someone out of their life savings. You would never do anything even close to that, not in a million years. What you did was get him back for being a creep to you. That’s not evil. That’s justice.”
I take in the pointed look on her face. We’re not identical twins, but we still look a lot alike. Same big brown eyes, same button nose, same full mouth, same black-brown hair. Jordan has bangs though and cut her hair to her shoulders, while mine is long and all one length.
I sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Still though. As satisfying as it felt to get back at Aidan, part of me can’t overlook how messed up it was to do it.”
Jordan waves a hand, completely unbothered by what I’ve said. “You only feel that way because you’re a good person, Micah. You’re reasonable and fair and don’t spend your time thinking of ways to screw people over. So the one time you do something to get back at someone for mistreating you, you feel unsettled about it. It’s understandable. It’s also proof that you’re not evil,” my sister says matter-of-factly.
I nod, despite the trepidation whirling inside of me. Do I regret putting hot sauce in Aidan’s lunch? No—he deserved it. But I still think it’s an objectively messed-up thing to do. This entire dynamic between us is screwed up.
“Thanks for the pep talk, but I’m ready to move on from it now and just focus on my job,” I say.
Jordan nods once. “How it’s going? Other than Professor Douche Canoe, of course?”
I tell her about the presentation I have in a couple of days in front of the English department.
“I’m giving the faculty and staff an early progress report of my findings,” I say. “Hopefully they’ll take it seriously and adjust things so that when it comes time for my final report, I won’t have to recommend cutting as much from the department.”
My sister holds up a mug in cheers to me. “You’ll kick ass like you always do.”
I try to smile despite how nervous I feel. I’ve done presentations like this a million times before in my job, but I always get nervous beforehand. It never feels good to stand in front of a group of people who you know hate you as you try to persuade them to take you seriously.
But it’s my job. This is what I’m good at. I’m good at observing and analyzing. The one time I tried to veer from that I failed miserably. So now I know better. I need to stick to what I know and leave the big dreams to those who can handle it.
Jordan and I chat for a few more minutes before we end our call, and I spend the rest of the night putting the finishing touches on my presentation.