IT’S THAT TIME the of month when everything starts to make sense. Crying over a car commercial about International Women’s Day, wanting to tear a certain hockey player’s clothes off, and eating everything in our emergency snack drawer. It all makes sense when I get my period.
It’s an unwelcome surprise because I had written off my aches and pains to hunching over my laptop and pulling all-nighters at the library. I sent in my final draft last week, and it received a reluctant stamp of approval from Langston. I expected relief to sink in and that tornado in my stomach to settle, but instead, I’ve become more fraught. Because this is it. I’ll soon find out if I’ve worked hard enough to make my grad school dreams come true.
The thoughts are depressing, and the unrelenting torture from my uterus isn’t helping. Amara asked if I needed something before she left, but I told her not to worry. Now, after a few hours of rotting in my bed and throttling the life out of my poor stuffed cow, I could use some serious painkillers. Crying and moaning haven’t subdued the pain, so I’m hoping she comes home soon.
Over my groaning, I hear rustling in the kitchen. “Amara, is that you? Will you break into the Pharmaceutical Sciences building and get me some morphine?”
But when my bedroom door opens, Aiden is standing there.
He’s wearing a gray suit, crisp white dress shirt, and royal blue tie. You can tell how large his arms are even under the jacket, and he looks so hot I can’t contain myself. He leans against the doorframe with a smile. “Hi, Summer.”
I think I might be drooling, so I turn to press my face into a pillow. “I’m out of commission,” I say, my voice muffled.
He chuckles. “You know that I like seeing you even when we don’t have sex, right?”
That is mostly true, I suppose. This past week we hung out more times than I can count, and it ended with us talking for hours or watching a Turkish show instead of our original arrangement.
He looks so handsome in that suit, and it’s confusing the hell out of my ovaries. I’m so hot for him it’s concerning. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have the Ohio State game?”
“Home game. Wanted to stop by and see you first.”
“Don’t think you can win without me at your game? Don’t worry, I’ll be there in spirit after I die from these cramps.”
He shakes with laughter. “Amara told me you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you something.” He leaves my room and comes back with a bed tray. There’s steam clouding out of my favorite mug, a box of chocolates, a warming pad, and best of all some extra-strength ibuprofen.
I sit up, allowing him to lay it over my lap. My eyes begin to sting. “When did you do this?”
“While you were screaming into your pillow.”
“I was not screaming. Just gently cursing Mother Nature.” I take the warming pad and place it over my stomach. I eye the mug with suspicion, bringing it to my lips. It’s perfect. Aiden even added ginger, and my heart burns a little, this time not from the overuse of cinnamon. “You’ve been practicing?”
“Dylan’s been teaching me. Apparently, his mom loves chai.”
The thought of two hockey players hovering over a stove to make the perfect chai makes me smile. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you,” he says softly. “Want me to get your laptop so you can watch something?”
Still stuck on his words, I slowly shake my head. “The only way I’ll get my mind off the pain is by taking a nap.”
He nods and leans in to kiss my forehead. Once, twice, three times. Each kiss causes a devastating flutter to erupt in my stomach. He shouldn’t be playing with my emotions like this, especially not right now.
“Stay,” I blurt because apparently, I’m an idiot. He pauses halfway to the door, and my dumb question makes my heart twist like a coiled spring. When his hooded gaze meets mine, I’m breathing so hard I might be panting.
Aiden stalks over to me, pulls my chin forward and kisses me so thoroughly that butterflies ravage my uterus. When he pulls back, he stares at me with a thunder of emotions behind dark eyes.
“I have that game.”
“Right. Obviously. I don’t know why I said that.” Do cramps also make you stupid?
He watches me for so long that I think there might be something on my face. He reluctantly pulls away, like leaving right now is bringing him a great deal of pain.
But then he says, “Give me a few hours.”.
I watch his broad shoulders and hard back exit my bedroom with a soft click of the door.
I STIR FROM deep sleep when my mattress dips and a warm body sneaks under my comforter. A heavy arm drapes over my waist, relieving the sparks of pain that still flare there. Aiden’s clean scent envelops me in a comforting hug, and I think I might be dreaming.
He pulls me so close our bodies curve together like two puzzle pieces, his legs tangling with mine. With a deep inhale, he buries his head in the crook of my neck and plants a featherlight kiss there before he starts massaging circles just below the waistband of my sleep shorts. It’s as if he senses the tightness in my body, and his magical hands unravel it within seconds.
I hum in pleasure and absentmindedly move my hips into him. He grunts a sound of disapproval, and when I try to turn he doesn’t let me.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs. His warm breath dusts the shell of my ear, and a shiver erupts. Aiden takes that as me being cold and pulls the comforter higher under my chin. Honestly, I’m kind of burning in the heat of his body, but I’d rather have a heat stroke than tell him to move.
“How was your game?” I ask anyway.
“OT win. I was dying to get back here,” he admits, kissing my temple. “Now go to sleep, baby.”
I smile at the wall, wrapped up in everything Aiden. His smell, his body, his words. Everything is mine at this moment, and I don’t want it to end.
MY FIRST ALARM should have been when I woke up smelling Aiden. My second alarm should have been Cassie’s loud voice on the other side of the door.
Unease tickles into my stomach when I feel hard muscles underneath me and Aiden’s sound asleep face. It’s peaceful, and smooth since he shaved the stubble. But just seeing him here sets alarms blaring in my head. We’ve explored every part of each other’s bodies, but we’ve never actually slept together.
“Donny! You’re here early,” Cassie’s voice drifts over again, and my heart drops. His name disintegrates the remaining fog in my brain. I completely forgot we were meeting today.
I twist away from Aiden, but he’s holding me so tight I can barely move. The heavy weight of his hands relieved my residual pain, and I would be forever grateful for that. But right now, I need him gone.
“Aiden,” I whisper, but he doesn’t stir. When I jostle him, his grip tightens as he stretches. Sleepy eyes find my face inches away.
Then he smiles.
He’s so content I wonder if he realizes it’s me he’s looking at. His large hand comes to my face, letting his thumb smooth across my cheek. The touch is so delicate that I hold my breath when he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and leans in.
I should move. I should really move.
When footsteps sound outside my door, I jerk, tumbling out of his hold and onto the floor.
“You good?” Aiden’s deep voice is laced with sleep as he stares at me over the edge of the bed.
I’m already pulling a hoodie over my head. “Great,” I mumble, fixing my hair.
Aiden’s still lying there, propped up on an elbow. “Summer, what’s going on?”
I sigh. “Donny—”
Rap rap rap
“Summer, Donny’s here.”
“Give me a sec, Cass.” I frantically fix my hair and turn back to Aiden. “You need to climb out the window.”
“Excuse me?”
“Now!” I urge.
“I’m not climbing out of a four-story building, Preston.”
I run an impatient hand through my hair. “Why not? Isn’t that what all those muscles are for?”
He releases a tired breath. “We don’t need to hide from him.”
“I don’t. You do.”
His jaw ticks. “That asshole is not going to dictate how I spend my time.”
“Aiden, I can’t do this right now. Can you just hide in my bathroom?”
Rap rap rap
“Summer?” Donny’s voice filters through the door.
My heart catapults to a different dimension when Aiden still hasn’t moved. “Please?”
He grumbles but disappears into my bathroom. Guilt pricks at me seeing the wounded look on his face, but I don’t have time to dwell.
I yank open the door, and Donny pierces me with a suspicious look. When he looks at my clothes, I stare down at the dark blue hoodie. Aiden’s hockey hoodie. Shit.
Donny raises a brow, and his eyes sweep the room behind me. I wait for his know-it-all attitude and his slew of questions. Instead, he hands me a paper and gestures to the living room. “We should talk about your analyses.”
I follow him out of my room.
