“Your résumé is very impressive, Rylan,” Professor Nolan tells me.
Most students select their own advisor by the end of sophomore year, when they declare their major. Since I wasn’t attending Holt then, Professor Nelson was automatically assigned to me because he’s the chair of the Mathematics department.
“Thank you,” I reply. My fingers twist anxiously on my lap. “But, you don’t think it looks…indecisive? Holt is the third school I’ve attended, technically.”
“Many students choose to transfer, and studying abroad is seen as an attribute. If anything, this showcases your ability to not only adapt to different academic institutions, but to thrive in each circumstance. I wouldn’t worry it will limit your opportunities anywhere.”
I nod, only partially convinced. I have no regrets about transferring to Holt. All it’s done is convince me I messed up not coming here in the first place. But I’m worried it’s a shortcoming. Proof I’m not as prepared as I pretend I am.
“Here’s a list of companies math majors have interned with recently.” Professor Nelson hands me a piece of paper. “If you’re interested in applying to any of them for summer opportunities, we should meet again before spring break. There might be a few tweaks we can make to your résumé, depending on where we’re applying. But like I said, you’re a strong candidate. I wouldn’t worry.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say. “I’ll take a look.”
“Great. Anything else you wanted to discuss?”
I shake my head. “Nope. All good.”
He smiles. “All right. I’ll see you in class on Friday.”
“See you in class.” I stand, then head out of his office and down the hallway.
Once I’m outside, I pull my phone out of my pocket.
RYLAN: You busy?
AIDAN: Yes.
AIDAN: Texting you.
RYLAN: Can I come over?
AIDAN: I’ll come to you instead.
AIDAN: A bunch of guys from the team are over.
I like his message, tug my hat down so it covers more of my ears, and then hustle across campus. When I approach my house ten minutes later, Aidan is leaning against his impossible-to-miss truck, looking hotter than any guy should.
He’s wearing a tight athletic shirt that stretches across his ripped chest. If I focus hard enough, which I absolutely am, I can make out the definition of each individual muscle. It doesn’t matter that I know what he looks like shirtless. That I have a photo I stare at way too much. That we’ve had sex four times now.
Once I’m close enough, he reaches out, snags me around the waist, and pulls me into his body.
He drops a scorching kiss on my lips, then pulls back like that’s a common way to greet each other. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I’m a little breathless, eating him up with my eyes. He’s here. He got here before me, even when he was hanging out with his teammates.
Aidan pulls a packet of papers out of his back pocket and hands it to me. “Brought you a present.”
“Flowers? You shouldn’t have.”
Aidan smirks. “Thought you’d appreciate me handing in my second to last assignment early.”
“Early is good. Thanks.” I take the papers from him, scanning the rough pencil sketches.
We met for tutoring yesterday. He flew through these crazy fast.
“So were you thinking we’d head inside, or…”
“Oh. Uh, yeah.”
Now that he’s here, I’m second-guessing everything.
Meeting with my advisor freaked me out. Despite Professor Nelson’s assurances about my résumé, I still feel like I’m floundering. Like I’ve bounced from school to school. I have no clue what I want to do this summer. No idea what my post-grad plan is.
I felt stressed, and Aidan’s the person I reached out to.
Not Chloe. Not Malia. Not Isla. Not Theo, who was the logical, academic choice. Not my parents.
I texted Aidan.
He hasn’t avoided me since the night in his truck. He sought me out, coming over here after Holt won the semifinals. It was a booty call…but it felt like more than a booty call too. We had sex—twice—but we also talked. Laughed.
We’ve barely seen each other since, me busy with classes and him preparing for the next round of playoffs. We haven’t discussed whatever this is, and calling him for comfort feels very girlfriendy. Him immediately showing up seems very boyfriendy.
And now he’s handing me his Stats assignment, reminding me that not only are we in a tutoring arrangement, we’re in one that’s about to end.
“Pretty sure some of my roommates are home,” I tell him as we head up the front walk.
Aidan shrugs, appearing indifferent to that piece of information.
Sure enough, Chloe’s making a smoothie in the kitchen. Dakota is sitting on the couch, and Mason is slouched next to her. This time his gaze is focused on the television screen instead of his phone’s.
They’re watching the replay of a hockey game, ironically. Professional, not college.
“Hey, guys,” I say.
“Hey, how was—” Chloe glances up and immediately stops talking, her mouth snapping shut and her cheeks turning pink.
I strive for nonchalance as I walk toward the fridge and grab a can of soda out. “Want one?” I ask Aidan.
“Yeah, sure,” he replies, leaning a hip against the counter.
“You remember Chloe?” I ask. “And this is one of my other roommates, Dakota, and her boyfriend, Mason.”
“You’re Aidan Phillips,” Mason states, his normally indifferent expression more animated than I’ve ever seen it before.
“Yep,” Aidan confirms. “Nice to meet you, man.”
But he delivers it in a hard, flinty tone that sounds more like Let’s never talk again. The last time I heard him talk that way, it was aimed at Clayton Thomas.
“Library was crowded, so we came over to study in my room,” I say, waving the papers Aidan gave me around like a Fourth of July sparkler. “See you guys later.”
Aidan follows me down the hallway and into my bedroom without saying a word. Once the door is shut behind us, he asks, “Does that Mason guy hang out here a lot?”
“That was only the second time I’ve met him.” I pause, watching Aidan toss his jacket away. “Why?”
“I don’t like him.”
“You can join the club.” I hold the papers he gave me up. “Should I grade these now?”
Aidan shrugs, which isn’t very helpful.
I was assuming he was coming over for sex, and he seems to be treating it like a study session.
I’m not sure what to make of that.
“What are these notecards for?” he asks, flipping through the stack on my desk.
“They’re for a presentation next week.”
“Is that what you’re stressed about?”
He’s more astute than I realized. That, or I’m more transparent.
“No.”
Aidan drops the deck, then turns to face me. “You feel like talking about it?”
I shake my head. “No. Anything you wanted to discuss?”
He’s fighting a smile now. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Great.”
I set the soda down on my desk. Then rise up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
Aidan reacts immediately, his hands spreading across the small of my back. They slide lower, cupping my ass and pulling our hips together.
I slip my hands under his shirt, exploring the impressive topography of his back. He groans, his hands reversing course and sneaking under my sweater instead.
He pulls back, running his tongue along his lower lip as he studies me. Then he reaches out, pulling off my pink hat and tossing it toward my desk.
“This is my favorite hat,” Aidan tells me.
It’s the one I was wearing in Colorado, and I think he remembers that. He commented on it when we ran into each other in the coffee shop a few weeks ago too.
“Mine too,” I say.
He tugs my sweater over my head next, his eyes darkening when he sees the light-blue bra I’m wearing underneath. I’ve retired most of my more comfortable cotton underwear since we started hooking up. Just in case.
His hands leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they move up and down my ribcage before palming my breasts. I bite my bottom lip as he cups them through the lace, the sudden burst of pleasure almost painful.
“You wet for me, Rye?”
I nod, sliding my hands up his shirt and over his abs. Yanking up until the tight fabric peels away, leaving him shirtless.
“Are you wearing a friendship bracelet?” I ask, the flash of color on his wrist drawing my attention.
“Yeah. It’s a long story involving Conor, a crush, and a bus ride. Actually…” He tilts his head. “It’s not that long. Conor had the stuff because the sister of one of his PeeWee players has a crush on him. He was making one on the bus, and I was bored. Hart’s been wearing his ever since and kept asking why I wasn’t wearing mine.” Aidan rolls his eyes.
Stringing beads is not what I pictured my dad’s players doing before games.
“Here,” Aidan says, slipping the bracelet off his wrist and onto mine. “Better gift than homework, right?”
It’s too big, slipping down almost to my knuckles. But as I finger the beads, smiling when I see the three and the four that must be because of his jersey number, I know there’s no chance I’ll be taking it off anytime soon. “Right.”
I rise up again to kiss him. A steady throb starts between my legs when his hands land on my ribs, moving across my back until he finds the clasp of my bra and flicks it free.
We’ve had sex several times now, and it still feels different every time.
It’s him, I guess.
My body reacts to Aidan in a way it never has to anyone else, and maybe that’s how every girl he hooks up with feels. But he’s in my bedroom right now, not anyone else’s.
I reach for the waistband of his pants, but Aidan pushes my hand away.
“Nah, you’re not touching my dick until you’ve come at least once.”
I shiver at the way he says that. At the way he makes me feel like my pleasure is a priority, not a chore.
“Hang on,” I tell him, turning on my Bluetooth speaker and picking a random playlist. The game wasn’t on that loud, and they’re probably all listening to our “studying.”
Aidan tugs down my jeans roughly, leaving me in just my underwear. He slaps my ass hard enough to make me jump and loudly enough to make me glad I turned on the music. “Get on the bed.”
“We’re using a bed again? How boring.”
He spanks me again, and I’m surprised how much I like it. The sharp sting fades into a glowing warmth that spreads, igniting my entire body.
When I still don’t move, he picks me up and tosses me on the bed.
Breath leaves me in a rapid rush as I land spread eagle, sinking against the soft comforter.
“You should have turned the music up louder,” Aidan says conversationally, then spreads my thighs and lowers his mouth.
