6. In Which Juniper Ponders the Sexiness of Leaning #2
I will see those pictures if it is the last thing I do. I will run a long con on his mother if it means I get a glimpse of straight-laced Aiden wearing an earring.
“I can hear the wheels turning in that brain of yours,” he says, sounding distracted once more as he looks back down at his book. “The earring isn’t even the best part.”
I all but choke on my own spit. “What’s the best part?” I croak. I am a rabid dog, salivating for this information. “What’s the best part, Aiden?”
He looks up at me, his hand pausing halfway through turning the page. A spark of something devilish enters his eyes as the corner of his lips twitches. “There are tattoos,” he whispers.
“Tattoos?” I squeak.
No answer; he just steps into his room and then nudges me out, back through the doorway. Then he closes the door in my face.
“Aiden,” I say, pressing my cheek to the door and knocking hard. “Tattoos? Plural? Tattoos plural ?”
Faintly, from the other side of the door, I hear him laugh. I roll my eyes, but when I go to the kitchen to eat the scones I saved from Grind and Brew, I’m smiling too.
My smile fades as I sit down at the table, though. What am I going to do? He’s right; going to meet someone I don’t know late at night is stupid.
But maybe if I took some kind of weapon? Pepper spray, maybe?
Parents.
The word pops into my head, still just as strange as it was when I read it last night.
I gave up wondering about my father a long time ago. As far as I was concerned, he wasn’t much of a father if he was never around. But I was also well aware that he might not even know I existed.
I never anticipated that I might get to learn something about him. I never let myself go there. But now that it’s come up…I don’t know if I can set that idea aside.
I march myself back over to Aiden’s door and knock again. “Hey,” I call. “What about if I take pepper spray?”
There’s silence for a second, and then the door opens to reveal an unimpressed-looking Aiden.
“What?” I say in response to the face he’s making. “Is that not a good idea? No pepper spray?”
He sighs. Why is this man always sighing when he talks to me? “I mean, pepper spray is better than nothing, but it’s still not safe,” he says. “It’s dark back there. It will be late. And you’re pretty small.”
“And those are valid concerns,” I say. “But I also think…” I bite my lip, debating what to say; I finally settle for the truth.
“I think I’ll experience a lot of regret if I don’t go see what all this is about tonight.
Besides,” I go on. “Didn’t that note seem less ominous than friendly, almost?
Did you notice the heart under the exclamation point? ”
“I noticed,” Aiden says grudgingly. He leans against the door frame, folding his arms.
Why is that so attractive? It’s just leaning. There’s nothing sexy about leaning, is there?? *
I take a step back, trying to get a better look at the full picture he presents.
He’s changed out of his pajamas, sadly; gone are the t-shirt and plaid pants, replaced by jeans and an oatmeal-colored cable-knit sweater.
He’s not a ridiculously ripped guy—not like Too Happy Gus from the yoga studio, for example—but nor is he puny; I can still see the breadth of his shoulders and the faint shape of his biceps when he’s standing like this?—
And I’m staring again. Crap. What were we talking about?
Cut it out, Juniper, I scold myself. You are not this girl anymore. You are no longer seventeen, drooling over your dreamy tutor. Get it together.
Ha. I may not be seventeen anymore, and he may not be my tutor anymore, but Aiden Milano is still dreamy. I doubt he wants to know that’s how I feel, though. When I told him how I felt last time, he was less than thrilled.
“There was the heart,” I say, rallying my strictly platonic, Aiden-free thoughts. “There was the heart on the exclamation point, and the wording sounded friendly too. Like someone was trying to do me a favor rather than threaten me ominously. Didn’t you get that vibe?”
“A little, yeah,” he admits. “Still think it’s a bad idea, though.”
He’s right. I know he’s right.
“So…” I say, staring at the floor as I think it over. Then, as an idea occurs to me, my head pops up, and I stand up straighter. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t even think it through; he just has that answer all ready to go. Then he takes a step back into his room and reaches for the door, clearly planning to close it in my face.
“Wait!” I say, stepping forward and putting my foot in the way.
He stares down at that foot with a look, the kind that makes me wonder if his students are scared of him. I can totally imagine him shooting fire out of his eyeballs right now.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, moving the offending foot. “Sorry. But hang on. Can you just think about it at least?—”
“No.”
“But you’re going to be there already, aren’t—” I break off again, but not because Aiden has interrupted me with his naysaying this time; it’s because the doorbell has just rung .
I look at him with a little frown; he looks at me with the exact same expression. “Are you expecting anyone?” he says. “We need to add that to the rules. You need to inform your roommate if you’re expecting company?—”
“I’m not expecting company,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Are you?”
“No,” he says, and his frown deepens. “I’m?—”
But both of us fall silent when the front door swings open and a tall woman steps in. “Honey, I’m home!” she calls in a sing-song voice.
“Caroline, for the love,” Aiden mutters under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He rubs his temples. “No way. I’m not doing this with you right now.”
I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or to the woman, Caroline.
“Oh!” I say, and it clicks. I turn back to the woman. “You’re Caroline. The landlady? Aiden’s sister?”
“That’s me!” she says, beaming. Her shoulder-length hair is a bit lighter than Aiden’s, but she has similar features—the same brown eyes, definitely, and a stronger chin than you usually see on a woman.
It’s hard to say if she and Aiden have the same smile, since he rarely smiles, but hers is nice.
I know this because she’s beaming at me, practically glowing, like I’m the best thing she’s seen all day.
“Oh, you’re completely darling!” she says as she approaches.
More muttering from Aiden at this, and more temple rubbing. “Caroline?—”
“Are you getting settled in okay?” she says, ignoring her brother completely. “I wanted to come and check on you. Make sure everything was to your liking.”
Wow. That’s really nice of her. Are landladies usually that thoughtful?
“Uh, yeah,” I say, because this is such an unexpected question that I don’t have an answer ready. “It’s great. It’s a nice place, my room is great, the price is fair.”
“Wonderful,” Caroline says, looking pleased. Then she jerks her thumb at Aiden. “And how’s the roommate?”
“A bit on the negative side,” I say immediately. Aiden glares at me; I smile sweetly back.
She nods sympathetically. “I know,” she says. Then, lowering her voice to a conspicuous whisper, she says, “He’s always been like that. It’s why no one will date him.”
I think she’s probably exaggerating there; I’m sure there are plenty of women who would put up with all the frowning for a chance to see this man on a regular basis. But I just nod, because I don’t think his sister needs to hear my opinion on that particular matter.
Except…
“He doesn’t even have a date to the dance tonight?” I say. I’m not a superb actress; my voice is a little too innocent to be believable, and the way Aiden’s eyes narrow tells me he sees what I’m up to.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Caroline says with a snort. She waves one airy hand, a little charm bracelet jingling as she says, “I don’t remember the last time he took a date to a school event.”
“That’s too bad,” I say with an over-the-top sigh. “Because I was just asking him if I could be his date?—”
“Don’t you dare—” Aiden begins, looking mutinous, but Caroline jumps in.
“Oh, yes, you should!” she says, clapping her hands. “Absolutely!”
“I thought it was a good idea, but he said no.” I do my best to pull a sad face.
And look—if Aiden himself were my real interest, I wouldn’t do this.
I’m not going to manipulate my way into a date with a guy I like, especially if I know he isn’t interested.
That feels icky to me, too much like forcing my presence on him when he doesn’t want it.
But if I can just get to the dance with Aiden, I can make myself scarce.
He won’t have to put up with me until the very end, when we swing by the potato statue together.
“Aiden,” Caroline says, rounding on him and looking exasperated. “If a beautiful woman asks you to be her date?—”
“She doesn’t want to be my date!” Aiden says, throwing his hands up in the air. “She just wants to go meet some weirdo by the Solomon statue.”
Caroline freezes in place, looking confused. Then she turns to me, raising one eyebrow.
“It’s true,” I say, shrugging apologetically. “Sorry. But I’m supposed to meet someone I’ve never met, and I want Aiden to come as backup. Safety in numbers and all that.”
If anything, this new information seems to get Caroline even more fired up.
“Aiden,” she says. She wags her finger at him as she speaks, something that makes her seem much older than him.
“Are you just going to let your roommate go by herself? What if something happened to her? How guilty would you feel?” Then, turning to me, she adds kindly, “I’m sure nothing will happen, of course.
Still, though.” She gives Aiden a disapproving frown.
“I’m going to have a word with Mom about how she raised you?—”
“Don’t you dare,” Aiden says for the second time in the last ten minutes. This time, though, his face pales. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Well, she should know that she raised a coward.”
I bite my lip. “That’s not it,” I say. It’s stupid to pretend I know Aiden better than his own sister, but whatever. “I’m sure he just doesn’t want to mess with it?—”
“Fine,” Aiden cuts me off. He’s rubbing his temples again; is he getting a headache? “Fine. Look. Here’s the deal.” He turns to me. “I will go with you to the statue after the dance. We will stay for ten minutes. Ten minutes . That’s it. Got it? After that, I’m leaving. You can stay if you want?—”
“No,” I say quickly. “Ten minutes is perfect. It’s just fine. We can leave after that. In return—” I cast around, thinking of a way I can repay him. “In return, I will provide seasonal decor for the house. I will also cook meals for both of us for the next week. Does that sound fair?”
“That’s fair,” he says stiffly, and he does look a little more placated now that I’ve made this offer. “I don’t care about decorations, though.”
“I figured,” I say, smiling slightly. “That’s why I added the meals part.” I love cooking; it won’t be a problem for me to make a little extra.
“Well, that worked out wonderfully,” Caroline says. Then she smiles at me. “Do you have a dress?”
“Oh, I don’t think I need to wear a dress,” I say. “I’m not planning on actually dancing or anything?—”
“Nonsense,” she says, and again I’m taken aback by how much older she seems now that she’s shaking that finger at me. “If you’re going to the dance, you need to wear a dress. Aiden’s dressing up, aren’t you, Aiden?”
“Only because they’re making me,” he says. “I’m getting out of here before I get wrangled into any more nonsense. Caroline, feel free to leave any time.”
“Where are you going?” she says, watching him blankly as he moves in long strides to the front door, where he grabs his keys from the little hook on the wall.
“Food bank,” he says without looking back. “I have a shift. I’ll be back in time to leave at six, Juniper. If you’re not here, I’m going without you. You, on the other hand”—he jabs one finger in his sister’s direction—“I would greatly prefer that you were not here when I return home.”
“I’ll be here,” I say, watching him go.
“I’ll leave,” Caroline says, looking grouchy, which only serves to highlight how similar she and her brother are in appearance. I give her a polite goodbye, and then she goes, leaving me alone in the house.
“I didn’t realize he works there,” I murmur to myself as I trail back to the stairs.
I’m not surprised, I guess; Aiden has been feeding the hungry since we first encountered each other.
It’s strange, though, imagining him working someplace I used to frequent as a teenager.
Like two separate parts of my world, colliding without my permission.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I need to go write a murder mystery—or rather, I need to go research how to write a murder mystery, since romance isn’t working out.
But slowly, absently, my hand slides around my torso and to the base of my spine—until I feel the thin, raised scar that’s the only remainder of the first time I met Aiden Milano.
* ? OF COURSE THERE IS, JUNIPER.