If, Not When
Chapter sixteen
Hayes Rosewood
Aurora frowns at me.
“Don’t lie?” she questions. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?”
It’s a fair point. I scratch the back of my neck.
“To each other,” I add to the rule number two I just gave. “We should be honest about how we’re feeling and what we’re thinking.”
Her confusion escalates.
“I’m not trying to argue with you. I don’t like lying, but I don’t understand why that needs to be a rule.”
I look down at my unopened textbook. She’s right; it probably didn’t need to be a rule, but in my world, people lie a lot.
And since I’m dragging her into it, I don’t want her to feel obligated to hide her feelings or spare mine.
Though, I guess she’s not been known to do the second.
I draw in a steadying breath and lift my head to meet her blue eyes.
“If one of us starts to … feel things. Real things—” A startled, no, terrified look cuts across her face, making a laugh burst out of me. “Okay, I’m not that vain. You don’t have to sucker punch my ego with that look.”
She laughs, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. Her shoulders shake. I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Really, Princess? I spend all this time trying to make you laugh …” My words trail off as I shake my head.
Her hand falls away to reveal a smile I can tell she’s trying to contain. I wonder what it would be like if she didn’t hold back.
“I wasn’t trying to bruise your ego, though it could use it,” she says through remnants of laughter. “I just wasn’t expecting you to imply that one of us would fall in love.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t say love.”
Aurora’s cheekbones tint pink.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” A smirk stretches across my lips. “And maybe I meant that, too.”
She huffs, clearly over my games. I chuckle to disguise my nerves and cross my arms over my chest.
“So, rule number two: when you fall in love with me, don’t hide it. At least not for long.”
The amusement drops off her face.
“If, not when, Prince Charming.” The nickname makes me grin. “I’ll be honest about it. And anything else.”
I dip my chin. “And I’ll do the same.”
She relaxes a little. Seeing her at ease almost makes me hold back my comment.
Almost.
“In the spirit of rule number two—”
She throws a pen at me, smacking me in the forehead.
“Ow,” I protest, but there’s laughter in my voice.
“If you say you’re in love with me, I will make you regret it. You’ve said that nonsense before, and those words should mean something, Hayes. Don’t say it unless they do.”
Her pointed look quiets any teasing from me. A few months back I joked with Aurora that I was in love and that’s why I acted the way I did around her. I’m not in love, but I do want to spend more time with her. As much as she’ll give me.
I hold my hands up in a surrender motion.
“Okay, I won’t say it unless I mean it. You have my word,” I promise her.
She nods once. “Good.”
“Any other rules?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.
“None that I can think of.”
“Two is a weird number—we should make a third one,” I say, my heart speeding up at the one coming to mind.
She gives me a look like she’s fed up with me but gestures to go ahead.
“We should be exclusive until this is over.”
Aurora blinks.
“If you’re okay with that, I think it would be best,” I add quickly.
“I already told you I don’t want to date anyone,” she replies slowly. “So, that’s fine with me. You’re the one with a database of women at your disposal.”
I frown at her word choice. Database is a strong word, but I guess she’s not entirely wrong.
Between us, I’m clearly the one who has to give up dating.
It’s just that I know what’s going to happen now that she’s seen as my girlfriend.
I don’t understand how she didn’t have a line of guys before, but now that she’s got eyes on her, there will be guys who think they can treat her better.
And maybe it’s selfish of me, but the thought of some idiot stealing her away when I just got her makes my stomach twist.
“Okay, then we’ve got our three rules,” I say instead of acknowledging her comment. “No kissing. No lying. No dating other people.”
“Should be easy enough,” she mumbles, and opens her notebook.
My eyes fall to her pouty pink lips. Not as easy as she thinks. But I’m a man of my word. I won’t kiss her unless she asks.
I stifle a sigh and open my textbook.
“What do you think the chances are of me suddenly knowing everything there is to know about Digital Logic?” I ask.
Aurora snorts lightly. “Slim. Now, let’s work on inferences and logical truth tables.”
We go over the problem for a few minutes. Again, it strikes me how easy Aurora makes it. She’s a good teacher and clearly knows her stuff.
“Have I ever asked you why you’re in these classes?”
She shrugs. “If you did, I can’t remember. I’m a CompSci major.”
“I know that much, but why? Do you not want to be a pro ballerina or whatever?”
Her lips twitch. “Principal dancer,” she corrects.
“And I do want to be one, but the chances of becoming one are incredibly low. Even if I do, it may be years after I graduate. So, I need a practical job. I chose this major because I can work with computers from anywhere, possibly alongside dancing if I get smaller or seasonal contracts with a company.”
I nod as I take in the new information.
“That makes sense, but I think you’ll become a principal dancer.”
A faint smile touches her lips.
“You’ve never seen me dance, and even if you had, you know nothing about ballet.”
I shrug. “I’ve got good instincts.”
“We should get back to work. I’m not losing money because you can’t pay attention.” Her words have a teasing tone, even as she’s directing us away from personal conversation.
“Will I get to see you dance?” I ask, ignoring her efforts. “Do you have a performance soon?”
Aurora tugs on the sleeves of her hoodie and averts her gaze.
“There’s a winter recital toward the end of the semester, but I don’t have any performances until then, just rehearsals.”
“Are they open to the public?”
Her eyes widen. “N-no. Not usually. Sometimes people bring family members who can’t make it to the recital, but that’s rare.”
“I guess I’ll have to wait until the recital, then.” I bite back a smile at the blush she’s wearing. It’s almost as dark as her hoodie. “A good boyfriend wouldn’t miss something like that.”
“I suppose,” she whispers, staring at her textbook.
“You know, you should probably come to the next Shadow Ring fight, if you’re not busy,” I muse.
Her head pops up. “What? Why?”
“No one is going to think we’re actually together if you don’t come to my fights. At least a few of them.”
Her brow pinches. “I guess that makes sense. They’re on Friday nights?”
I nod. “There’s one this Friday. I’ll even let your little journalist friend back in, if she actually leaves her phone at the door.”
I found out not long after kicking the redhead and her hockey-playing boyfriend out that they both wrote for the Thrasher, the school newspaper.
“She’s not a journalist anymore,” Aurora says, her eyes a little dazed like she’s thinking of something else.
“Invite all your friends, if you want. I’ll let my bouncer know to expect you.”
“Okay,” she murmurs.
Excitement spreads through my body. I grin.
“Okay as in you’ll come?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to be stuck at some long, late-night party,” she says, strength coming back to her voice.
“I told you, my offer of escape is always on the table. When you want to go, we’ll go. Provided I’m not in the middle of a fight.” I laugh.
Her lips push to the side. She draws in a breath, then nods.
“All right. I’ll be there.”