5. Aiden

Chapter 5

Aiden

C eleste had responded to my text message that night. She'd said how much she liked talking to me and that she did want to go out with me but was on a tight deadline, so she couldn't promise when we would be able to. I immediately told her it was okay, that I understood, but… Damn.

Why did this always happen to me?

I thought Celeste was really cool. We had the same interests, and I could tell she was into me, especially with all the little ways she found to touch me at the bar. Laughing with her hand on my arm, bumping her knee against mine, tapping her index finger on the back of my hand, they were obvious signs. Weren't they?

But what the hell did I know? Not much, according to Meredith. When she'd texted me, demanding an update, I told her Celeste and I hadn't exchanged more than a few messages in the last week. Then Meredith sent me a bunch of eye rolling emojis, along with Unit 3: Flirty Texts and Sexting. Meet me at Callihan's at 7 on Friday.

Which was how I found myself back in this booth for the second time in two weeks. I'd ordered myself a beer and waited for her to arrive, absently toying with my cell phone, repeatedly opening and closing my text message threads with both Celeste and Meredith, wishing one would text me anything while the other texted an order for a whiskey soda with lots of ice.

Demanding little thing. Though, truly, there was nothing little about Meredith, from her curves to her personality, everything about her was over-the-top. If I sometimes imagined what her mind-bending shape was like underneath her clothes over the last week, I chalked it up to a healthy sexual desire. I hadn't had sex in a long time. Which was the point of this whole thing with her. She was helping me move past the friend-zone and into girlfriend territory, so I could finally have sex. Because while I knew sex and emotions weren't mutually exclusive, I enjoyed it more when I actually cared for the woman. I couldn't be comfortable with a stranger or some person I'd picked from an app.

Not like Meredith could.

And I don't know why that idea bothered me so much—her playing this game where she didn't think she deserved someone who cared enough to see who she really was.

But I couldn't throw stones at glass houses. I was still working on my own confidence. Clearly, she was too. Though she put on a damn good front.

I accepted her drink from the bartender and brought it back to the booth I'd commandeered for the night. Facing the entrance, I had a clear view when she blew through the door, her wavy golden hair flying around her face. She was laughing at something a gray-haired man was saying to her as he held the door open for her, and I think I saw the older gentleman fall in love right then and there.

Understandable.

She patted his shoulder as she passed him, stepping into the bar, her gaze sweeping around the place until it landed on me in the corner. Then she smiled and strode to me, her mile-long legs carrying her swiftly to the booth. On her way, some guy blocked her way.

It was loud in here, with the chatter of people and Pat Benatar playing from the speakers, but this guy's voice may as well have been a starter pistol. "Hey, Barbie."

My muscles tensed, and I stood up before I consciously thought about it.

Meredith stepped to the side. "Name's not Barbie, but nice try."

This douchebag stopped her again. With one hand in his pocket and the other around a pint, he didn't appear like he planned on touching her, but I didn't like the way Meredith's eyes crinkled and narrowed, searching for a way out. And the human male species were not to be trusted. I knew well enough how bad some of us could be.

I cut across the room in time to interrupt his offer to buy her a drink. "She's with me," I said, sliding my hand across her shoulders. "I got her covered."

Meredith relaxed against my side, and I tugged her away from the guy, not thinking about it when I brushed my mouth along her temple. "You all right?"

"Yeah. Of course." She gently pushed me away, smiling. But it was tight. As if she could pretend she wasn't bothered by what happened. I knew she was.

"It's okay to admit it if you're not, you know."

"Seriously," she mumbled, folding herself into the booth, crossing one leg over the other. "It's fine."

I held my hands up as I sat across from her, then gestured to the drink I'd bought her.

"Thank you." She downed about half of her whiskey soda as I stared at her, waiting.

It didn't take long.

She rolled her eyes and then began, "Fine, yes, it's…" She flapped her hand. "I need to find a new bar, but Jimmy loves this place. I don't know why. It's crawling with divorced men looking for quick lays."

"You're not looking for quick lays?"

"Yeah, I mean…" She huffed. "Most of them were served the papers because they're shit partners and fathers and even shittier in bed. I know because they like to complain about their ex-wives after they've asked me if I've come." She thumped her glass down, shaking her head. "I don't understand what's so hard for them to get. All they have to do is look and listen. If we don't dead bug while calling out to God, we didn't orgasm."

I swallowed my sip of beer. "Dead bug?"

"Yeah, like…" She cocked her head to the side, bending her arms and hands at odd angles. "When it's so good we can't control what our muscles do and we, just, ya know…dead bug it up."

I sputtered a laugh. "Got it. Dead bug is good."

"Only in bed," she said, aiming her index finger at me. Then she softened, smiling her genuine smile. "What's been going on with you? How was your week?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Fine. Same as always."

"All numbers, numbers, numbers, huh?"

"Pretty much."

She set her chin on her palm, leaning in. "We've had a stomach virus terrorizing the school. It's been a literal mess."

I winced. "How're you feeling?"

"Great. I've got a strong constitution." As if to prove it, she took a big gulp of her drink. Holding her glass between her slender fingers with those dagger fingernails, she licked her lips. And I had to blink a few times, ignoring the sudden image lodged in my brain of her pink and shiny mouth wrapped around my dick.

I waved to her hand. "I don't know how you do anything with those."

She fluttered her fingers. "You get used to them. Typing is a bit hard, but other than that, not much is different."

"Poke an eye out with those things."

She pressed her lips tight together as if not wanting to laugh before tapping her talons on the table. "You might like them. Give good tickles."

"Tickles?" I repeated with a slow-growing smile. "What's that mean?"

She dragged her fingernails up and down my forearm, raising the tiny hairs all over my body. The sensation arrowed straight to my balls. "Yeah." I cleared my throat. "Good tickles."

She grinned, satisfied, and sat taller. "So, unit three: sexting. Let's get to it."

"You're going to make me sext Celeste?"

"I'm not gonna make you do anything. You can do whatever you want, but we're not going to jump right into the ‘I want to feel you come around my fingers' texts quite yet."

"Christ," I mumbled, rubbing at my forehead. She was here to help me get Celeste on a date, and yet all I could think about was her goddamn fingernails raking across my scalp and my fingers in her pussy.

"We have to ease in," she went on, unaware of the explicit thoughts ransacking my brain. My new favorite porno, apparently. "Get your phone out. I need to read through the conversation so far."

I happily handed it over, ready to move on from the image of Meredith on her back in my bed, dead bugging while she called out to God because of my tongue on her.

She bobbed around her in seat, absently dancing to the Beastie Boys. "What you have here is fine. Nice guy Aiden, but you need her to know you're thinking about her. You want her, yeah? So…"

When she started typing, I reached across the table and wrapped my hand around her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Sending poop emojis. What do you think?"

I shook my head at her like she was a misbehaving child. She smirked impishly in return. Then she read aloud, "Been thinking about you every day, lovely. Can't wait to take you out, and I get to experience your smile in person again."

"Wow."

"What?" She flipped my cell phone around so I could see she didn't send the message. "You don't like it."

"No, I do. I always get so in my head about texts, but you literally wrote what was in my head."

"Why do you look upset about that?"

"I'm not upset." I placed my elbows on the table, my palms on my temples as I glowered at the table. "I just never thought girls wanted to know what was in our heads."

She laughed outright. "Of course we do."

"Ryan says you can't be a simp," I said, referring to one of my twin brothers.

"Ryan's a douche, and the only reason he gets laid so much is because he's a hot baseball player." She set my cell phone on the table, sliding it so it was right under me, my gaze still focused down as I digested this information.

Ryan was younger, but he had an inch and a few pounds on me. He lived in Cleveland with his twin Tristan and our older sister, Rosie. He played for an exhibition baseball team, but we were all still pretty close. Unless we were arguing, which Ryan seemed to do a lot. With the entire family.

"So you want a simp?" I asked, meeting Meredith's gaze, and she lifted a shoulder.

"Do women want a guy to simp for them? Yeah, who wouldn't want to be loved by someone with their whole heart? Me, personally? I think it could be nice, although I've got a lot of hard edges, and I wouldn't want to hurt them."

"So you don't want a guy to know your favorite drink is whiskey soda and have it waiting for you when you arrive?"

"No," she started, briefly dipping her gaze to her glass. "I'd like that."

"What about texting you, telling you that they couldn't stop thinking about your laugh? How it fills the room. How they'd be able to find you anywhere because of it."

She nodded slowly, her throat bobbing on a swallow.

"How about texting you before bed, telling you that they want to know what your skin feels like, what the slope of your neck tastes like?"

Her mouth opened on a breath, and she nodded a few times, eyes glazed over. "Yeah, you…" She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ears, then sipped her drink. "You don't even need my help. You're an expert already."

I guess I was. I just didn't know it until Meredith.

I sent off the message she'd typed up to Celeste, then Meredith and I chatted about nothing in particular: what are favorite books were since we'd found out both of us were into listening to them on car rides—I was into urban fantasy while she was into what she called romantasy—and more about our family—how she loved anytime Claire invited her to family gatherings. She'd said she made up excuses so she didn't have to see hers, though she was afraid she couldn't get out of the trip her parents were planning to Aruba for Thanksgiving in the fall.

"Oh, how terrible," I deadpanned. "Aruba."

"You would hate it, believe me."

"Yes, a week on a beautiful island."

She wrinkled her nose. "While my dad constantly reminds me that I'm wasting myself and my mother badgers me about how I'm not married yet. Real fun."

"Well, you have six months to come up with your excuse."

She sighed. "I've avoided family trips for the last two years, but they won't take no for any answer this time."

"Maybe you should take someone with you as a buffer."

She tilted her head from side to side. "Maybe. But I can't ask Claire. She'll be married, and who else would give up their Thanksgiving to come with me?"

I almost—very nearly almost—volunteered myself, but I shut my mouth.

Although with the way Meredith's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, maybe she was hoping…

No, she wouldn't want me to go with her. There was no way.

She cleared her throat and focused on her drink as she swirled the ice cubes in her glass. "It'll be fine. I'll spend the week in an alcohol haze."

I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

Especially when Celeste texted me back. Her message read. You're too cute. I can't wait to see you either!

Meredith smiled when I showed her the text, though it wasn't as bright as usual. "Great. Now tell her something else about her. Something you noticed."

I typed up a message about how I liked her smell and have been trying to pinpoint what it was, except it wasn't Celeste I thought about at the moment. It was Meredith and her scent, barely there, but I'd always caught it. Like citrus fruit on a breeze.

Ever since our little shopping excursion, it haunted me.

I left my phone on the table, displayed for Meredith's viewing pleasure, and she nodded, a proud teacher. "Very nice. The use of pointing out the different senses is good. A lot of people forget you have to seduce with all five."

I swallowed thickly, ignoring how I might do that with her.

Since we'd long since finished our drinks, and we succeeded in our goal tonight—getting back on track with Celeste—Meredith said she was going to head out. I agreed.

And when I got home, before I texted Celeste, I texted Meredith. You're too smart to let your family get to you, but if you really need someone, I can take one for the team and spend the week in Aruba.

Such a gentleman , she replied. Worrying about lil ole me.

You need someone worrying about you.

I'm a big girl. I can handle it.

I know you can. But you could also let someone else take some of the load, I messaged.

You're too sweet for this world, Aiden , she eventually texted back, quite soundly friend-zoning me. No surprise.

But what did surprise me was how my cock didn't get the message. And when I wrapped my hand around it minutes later, it was to the images of Meredith in my head.

Not Celeste.