Chapter 20
COVEY
Being at Eddie’s midweek is a rarity. Being out at all this time of year is rare. I couldn’t turn down Aidan’s invitation, not when we have so much to talk about. Of course, we’ve been sitting here for nearly forty-five minutes, and neither of us has said anything of substance.
We’ve done the standard exchange of pleasantries and discussion of his kids’ take on The Nutcracker, but beyond that, we’re mostly quietly discussing absolutely nothing.
Honestly? It’s amazing.
“When did your mom start collecting that village?” he asks, leaning in close, as though it’s a secret no one else can know about. Trust me, everyone knows about her obsession with the tiny Christmas town she’s built in the living room.
Still, I like the idea of the two of us sharing secrets, so I mimic his movement, putting my elbows on our table. “Why? Because it’s creepy as fuck?”
“No, it’s…”
“Weird. You can say it.” From what my father’s told me, it’s a massive pain to put up and take down each year, too, so much so that he’s considering letting her keep it up year-round.
Something I’m not about to let happen now that I live nearby.
Even if it means personally going over there and handling it.
“I don’t know when it started exactly, but it’s become a bit of an obsession.
She gets whatever new pieces the company puts out each year, but she also goes to yard sales and antique markets looking for some of the retired models.
” So far, I’ve dodged the bullet of having to go with her on those trips.
“Is there like a master plan for it or something?”
“I wish. Honestly, that would probably make it easier to handle. Right now, I think the only plan is to keep going until there’s no room left on the first floor for any of the real people who live there.”
“Well, as long as they stay at her place, I guess it’s okay.”
I can hear the fear that his Christmas present might include his very own village starter kits.
I know because I have the same concern. She’s made multiple attempts to get information out of me about which pieces I like best. I’ve dodged those with great care, but I still think my gift might be my very own mini version.
Which I would have to put up at Christmas, or at least when she came over.
“Does your mom still decorate the tree with all your handmade ornaments?”
Aidan groans loudly enough to attract attention from a few nearby tables. “Of course she does. It’s ridiculous. Even worse, I’m contributing to some other mother’s version of this by helping kids make ornaments.”
“You know, you could make them with the kids and give them to your mom? I bet she’d love some updated artwork.”
“If you mention that to her, I will personally come to your house, murder you, bury the body, and resurrect it, all so I can murder you a second time.”
I snicker. Aidan insisted his mom would stop once he was out of the house. I should’ve placed a bet on it, since clearly, I’m winning. “You’d let your whole class down by murdering me? Imagine having to go in the day after and confess to those adorable faces that you murdered me.”
“Covey,” he says incredulously. “Those kids are going to be so disappointed to find out that we aren’t dating.”
“Who says you have to tell them?” I shrug. It’s not like we’re going to see them very often. I’m pretty sure maintaining a fake relationship at work is much easier than doing it with family. “They’ll be out of your class in six months.”
“You want to extend this whole… arrangement another six months?”
I consider the question. I’m not sure we’d have to do that. I mean, they’re kids. They’ll probably forget about our relationship before Valentine’s Day rolls around. “It wouldn’t be that hard.”
“Covey.” He sighs as he says my name, so I know I’m about to hear a hundred arguments why it’s a bad idea. “The kids talk to their parents. Parents who know our parents. It wouldn’t only be for the kids. We’d have to keep up the charade around everyone. Is that something you want?”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” My immediate response is to say that we might as well.
Honestly, despite some bumps and awkwardness, it’s going pretty well.
No point in messing with a good thing. “What parts exactly would continue?” I’m thinking about our whole arrangement—fake boyfriends and friends-with-benefits. Honestly, it’s a pretty good deal.
“Um…” He must be thinking the same thing, because his face turns bright red. “Well…” He takes a long sip of his beer, then coughs and sputters.
“Do you want to go back to my place?” To talk. To fuck. Whatever I can get. Either way, this seems like a good time to move us somewhere a little more private.
“Yeah. Okay.” He downs the rest of his beer and grabs his coat from the back of his stool.
We paid at the bar when we got our drinks, so we’re able to slip out easily.
I trail behind him out of Eddie’s. A few times, my hand brushes against his.
Would he let me slip my hand into his? There’s no one here watching, no one we need to convince that we’re a couple.
Still, it’s nice to have that connection to him, to have him touching me.
“Meet at my place?” I ask. We drove here separately, and while we could leave a car behind, it makes the most sense for us to go alone.
“See you in ten.”
Aidan’s car pulls up to the curb outside my rental, only a minute behind me. I’ve spent those few seconds wondering if he changed his mind, decided to go home instead of coming back here to be with me.
It’s only when he gets out, giving me a little wave, that I can finally breathe normally again.
“Hey,” he says, following me into the house.
“Hey.” It’s the fact that I’m not sure why we’re here that makes me nervous.
Whether we’re hanging out as friends or friends-with-benefits.
It’s a complicated line, though I’m not sure why.
I’ve had a few of these arrangements before, and they’re usually easy; that’s part of what I like about them.
Being around Aidan is easy. Navigating some of these pieces is what’s hard.
What we have feels fragile, and I’m constantly terrified of breaking it.
Aidan, apparently, is less confused. As soon as we hang up our coats and make it into the kitchen, he’s kissing me.
God, he’s such a good kisser. It still shocks me, especially since our first kiss was so timid. Now that he’s warmed up, he’s incredible, giving as much as he takes. When he raises a hand to my jaw, gently coaxing me to open my mouth for him, I obey instantly—anything he wants.
“Aidan,” I moan into his mouth.
“Is this not okay?” He pulls away, concern on his face. I pull him closer to me, making sure he knows that I’m not objecting to the kiss.
“It’s very okay, but we should move to the bedroom.” If we’re going to do anything other than kiss—and I hope we are—it’ll be a lot more comfortable. We’re not old, but my knees take a beating in dance, so they can’t handle kneeling on the hard tile for any length of time.
“Bedroom, yes.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the hall. I chuckle and follow him, working my shirt off on the way—no use in wasting time. Once I get him in bed, I want to spend as much time as possible savoring every inch of him, treating him like the prize that he is.
AIDAN
I’m generally not self-conscious, but whoa. Despite having seen Covey without his shirt on during my ill-planned massage and having seen him in skin-tight outfits on stage—twice—I’m still speechless when he strips his sweatshirt off.
The amount of time I spend in the gym is negligible. The only one I’ve even seen the inside of in the past two years is at the school, and that’s only to drop off or pick up students from P.E. I’m not out of shape, per se, but I could stand to do a few pushups now and then.
It mostly doesn’t bother me, but right now, I’m looking at someone who looks like he walked out of a superhero movie.
“Aidan, are you okay? We don’t have to do anything.”
“No.” He steps back, giving me space to think. “I mean, I want to.” The last time we had sex, it was all under the covers. We didn’t even bother to remove our clothing. Now, my brain is in overdrive, thinking about him seeing me naked for the first time.
“Do you want me to put my shirt back on?”
That’s the exact opposite of what I want. “No, I want this.” How do I explain this to him? “It’s that you look like that”—I wave my hand toward his eight pack—“and I don’t.”
“Aidan, look at me.”
I huff because I haven’t stopped looking at him. His body is mesmerizing. The only thing better than looking would be getting to touch.
“This is part of my job, a tool. When I retire, I guarantee it won’t look like this anymore.” He takes a step toward me, forcing me to adjust my gaze to meet his eyes. “I want you, just like you are. Your body is fucking incredible.”
I’m sure that’s a lie, but his eyes are so convincing that I let myself believe it.
“What do you want?” He runs his thumb over my cheek, and I lean into the touch.
“Anything.” Everything. How much can we manage in one night?
“Anything, huh?” He nips at my ear. “Can I fuck you?”
My legs nearly give out. Thankfully, Covey puts his hand on my waist to help steady me. “Yeah.” I want that so badly, to have him buried deep inside me. “Please, Covey.”
He answers me with a heated kiss. I’m not sure what I thought was going to happen when I kissed him in the kitchen. I didn’t want to let my fantasies get too far ahead of me, not knowing if Covey would want to continue our arrangement.
Now, all my wildest dreams are coming true.
Covey breaks the kiss to tug my shirt over my head. At this point, I don’t care what my abs look like, as long as I get Covey inside me soon.