6. Meredith

Chapter 6

Meredith

I didn't care.

I didn't.

Absolutely did not care that Aiden was out on a date.

With a woman.

Who was not me.

It was fine.

This was the purpose of our little tutoring sessions.

I was proud.

Should have been proud.

I distracted myself by online shopping and when that didn't work or last, I threw on a dress and took myself out to dinner. After hopping a rideshare to the restaurant, because I planned on drinking a few rounds, I nabbed a seat at the bar and ordered some kind of grapefruit mixed drink, which the bartender suggested with a cute smile, along with a salmon salad. I didn't know why I was punishing myself like this.

Grapefruit? Salad with salmon?

Aiden was turning my mind to mush.

"You waiting on anyone?" the bartender asked, his fingers tapping on the bar after delivering my drink.

"Just me tonight."

"Yeah?" He grinned, his light brown skin glowing under the lights of the bar. He checked me out with a furtive glance and placed one hand on his hip, leaning in. It was a practiced move, obviously. One that showed off the muscle of his shoulders and arms under the black button-down he wore, the one he left slightly open at the top.

He was hot. No doubt about it.

And I didn't care.

Something was definitely wrong with me.

"My name's Atlas," he offered me, and that actually earned a laugh.

"Wow. Your parents really strapped the world to your back with that one."

He turned, lifting his arms in a pose that showed off his muscular back, like he could actually carry the world. I'd walked into that one.

But he did have a nice back.

Atlas grinned over his shoulder and offered me a flex before spinning around. He rested his forearms on the bar, shown off by the rolled cuffs. "Maybe not the world, but I'm strong enough to carry a load. You all right?"

I nodded and brought the mixed drink to my lips. "Good for now."

"You let me know if you need anything," he directed with a smile that did absolutely nothing for me, then stepped away to help another customer. I sighed into my drink, sipping the tart concoction.

I didn't hate grapefruit, but I hated the memory of how my mother used to force me to eat it as part of her diet fads. She constantly had us on grapefruits cleanses as I grew up, as if a thirteen-year-old girl needed a cleanse.

So I'd long been used to the flavor, but disliked the memories it stirred. Ones of self-taught self-loathing.

I took my phone from my pursing, absently doom scrolling until Atlas delivered my salad, once again striking up a conversation I should have been interested in. He was an easy target. I could go home with him at the end of the night.

If I had my head on straight.

"How's the drink treating you?" he asked, and I replied with some kind of affirmative and a smile.

Atlas placed his hand on the bar top, right in front of me, posing again. Truly, the name fit him.

And I couldn't have cared less.

Especially when I spotted a familiar head of dark hair out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was trained to pick him out of a crowd now.

Aiden walked with his date, his hand on Celeste's lower back, his gait confident, listening as she said something to him, which had him smiling. His dark eyes crinkling, and that's when I noticed.

He wasn't wearing his glasses!

Sure, I'd ask him about his glasses, but I didn't think he'd actually ever exchange them for contacts. They were a part of him.

Then again… I guessed not, since he looked as good without them.

This Superman version of him worked. The fitted gray pants I'd picked out for him, along with a white button-down, tucked in with a belt, and a light blue leather jacket I'd never seen before. He looked so good.

Fuck me.

He had swagger.

Did I do that?

Or did he have it all along?

No, he did. He had that nerd swagger, but I think I gave him to room to release it. Lean into it.

As I watched him guide her through the restaurant to the exit, he casually draped his arm across her shoulders, a deceitfully good move. One of casual possession, and Celeste liked that. I could tell from the way she tipped her chin, smiling up at him, tucking into his side.

For his part, Aiden offered her his crooked grin, and jealously had me downing my drink in one go. It left a bitter taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with the grapefruit.

When I handed the glasses to Atlas, he raised his brows. "All right?"

"Fine."

"Date stood you up?"

"Something like that," I muttered, giving into the terribly bad idea of staring at Aiden and Celeste out of the windows of the restaurant. They were holding hands now, swinging them back and forth like a cute fucking couple, talking and laughing about something, and I hated myself.

I rolled my eyes to Atlas. "Better make it a double."

He shrugged and turned away to make the drink as I poked at my salad.

I should have been happy for Aiden. This was what he wanted, a girlfriend.

And I… I didn't know what I wanted anymore.

Atlas returned my drink to me, and, yep, it was a double. I smacked my lips, giving into the desire to wallow.

I must have made it clear to Atlas that he wasn't going to get any flirtation back from me tonight because he swiftly moved on to another customer, and I placed my elbows on the bar, holding my drink between my fingers, sipping and thinking.

Thinking of the time I'd spent with Aiden.

Of all the times I'd hung out with him at Hart family gatherings. Of how he never hid who he was or tried to be someone else. Maybe he was the one who should have been tutoring me.

Because he was the one out there, going after what he wanted.

And I was the one here, drinking something that I didn't even like. Thinking about a guy who I'd never expected to like.

I set the cocktail down with a thump, and forced myself to eat some of the salmon, trying to make myself forget about Aiden.

And it almost worked. Until my cell phone buzzed with a text from Aiden. Where are you?

I didn't know if I should lie or not. I went with the truth. The bar at Crave.

Really? I was there tonight , he replied.

I swallowed a gulp of my drink, that was more vodka than grapefruit this time around. I know. I saw you.

Why didn't you say anything?

Because you were with your girl.

It was a long time before he texted me back. She's not my girl.

Coulda fooled me , I messaged because I was on my way to tipsy, and my fingers hit send before I could think better of it.

What are you doing? he asked in his next text, and, again, I told him the truth.

Getting drunk.

Why?

I rolled my eyes. Go back to your date. Get your girlfriend.

The date's over , he texted. I'm coming. Don't move.

Fifteen minutes later, after I'd finished my drink and about two-thirds of my salad, Aiden marched over to me. "Hey."

I whirled around to him.

I'd been expecting him. Anticipating him showing up.

What I didn't expect was the heavy feel of his palm on my shoulder. That warm sensation that started in my belly to flow out to the rest of me. And to him to be wearing his glasses again.

It made me inordinately happy.

She could have Superman. I got Clark Kent.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, crowding my stool as a trio of women passed behind him.

"Having dinner."

"By yourself?"

I shrugged, shaking my empty cocktail glass, knocking the dregs loose as something to do. Something to occupy myself. Then I used it to point to Atlas, who winked at me, mouthing, "Another?"

"Sure."

I felt more than heard Aiden's huff, his hot breath on my neck, rustling my hair. "No," he said to Atlas, "we're good. Just the check."

I craned my neck back, glaring up at Aiden. "I'm not done."

"Did you drive?"

I shook my head. "I intended to have a friendly date with myself."

"Yeah?" His stupid mouth curved up in that stupid half-smile.

"Yeah." I folded my arms over my chest and shifted away from him.

In turn, he wedged himself between me and one-half of the older couple next to me, settling his hand on the back of my stool, his forearm on the bar. "How's that working out for you?"

"Fine, until you showed up. You're supposed to be confessing your undying love with your girl or whatever."

"Why'd you say it with a sneer?"

"I'm not sneering."

"A little bit," he said, full-out smiling now, and I hated him.

"I don't sneer."

"You do, apparently." Then he nodded at Atlas when he handed him the check.

"He finally showed up," Atlas stage-whispered to me, like we were in on a secret. "Little too late, don't you think?"

Aiden tossed a credit card down, paying my bill, and I was between a rock and a hard place. Or, rather, a hot bartender with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a hot nerd pulling an alpha move.

What was a girl to do?

"I'm not late," Aiden said, to no one in particular, though he did ease closer to me. "I wasn't even supposed to be here."

"Exactly." I flicked my fingers toward the windows. "You should be with your girl."

Aiden rolled his eyes behind his glasses and Atlas slipped his credit card from the bar top, his lips pursed at the drama.

"Why're you drinking by yourself?" Aiden asked me, the fingers at my back, sifting through the ends of my hair.

"Can't a girl go out on her own? Jesus."

"Sure, but I know how you can get."

"You don't know anything about me," I grumbled, to which he bent, his mouth near my ear.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Before I could even recover from my full-body shudder, Atlas returned with the receipts that Aiden signed with a flourish before helping me stand with a hand at my elbow like I was some weak damsel. I had the equivalent of three water-downed drinks in a little over an hour. I was fine.

Until Atlas winked at me again, and Aiden let out a grumbly sound from his throat. "What's that guy's issue? He should get his eyes checked since he keeps blinking."

"He's winking at me." I tossed my purse over my shoulder with all the dignity I could muster. "Flirting with me."

"Ah." Aiden slipped his hand to my lower back. "Thought maybe it was a stroke."

I back-handed his chest and absolutely refused to give in to a smile.

Once we made our way through the exit, I stepped out of his hold. "What's your issue? Why are you here?"

"Because you said you were getting drunk, and, like I said, I know how you get."

I challenged him, raising my chin, arching my brows.

"You get loud," he said, as if loud wasn't my starting volume. "And occasionally take your clothes off."

"I do not take my clothes off."

"Two summers ago, at the farm, you?—"

"That was an accident. It was a halter top, and the string caught." I mimed the action of my top accidentally falling off.

"Ryan hasn't stopped talking about your tits."

"Jealous?"

He didn't answer, only placed his hand over my shoulders, the same way he'd done with Celeste, and ushered me down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. The thought of him touching me the same way he touched her made me irrationally angry, and I pushed him away even as I had no idea where we were going.

"What's the problem?" he asked, and I had to assume he was being purposefully obtuse.

"Why are you here ?"

"Because—"

"You're supposed to be with her ," I said with a real mature stomp of my foot. "What's the point of everything we did if you're not with her?"

"I went out with her. It was great."

I held my arms out at my sides, silently demanding more.

"And now it's over," he said simply.

I sighed irritably. "Did you kiss her?"

He closed the distance between us in two steps, gently prodding me toward his car.

"Did you kiss her?" I asked again, because I needed to be put out of my misery.

When he didn't answer, I shoved my hands against his chest, curling my fingers around the lapels of his jacket. It was buttery soft while giving Aiden an edge. Although, with the way he stared down at me, he had all the edge he needed.

I enunciated each word. "Did. You. Kiss. Her?"

He stepped even closer to me, forcing my neck back. He wasn't that much taller than me, but in flats and this close, I had to tilt my head to hold his gaze when he replied, "Why does it matter?"

He smelled good, like citrus and leather, his jaw ever-so-slightly stubbled, his hair just this side of mussed. I shivered, and his hands curled around my upper arms. I'd only thrown on a casual knit T-shirt dress. It was long-sleeved but thin, and I didn't know I'd be hanging around outside after dark with this adorkable man being a pain in my ass.

"You're cold," he said, still avoiding my question. He removed his jacket and swung it around my shoulders.

It was warm, and I didn't think about it when I slipped my arms inside, pulling it close around me, ducking my nose down to smell it.

He didn't miss that.

This fucking guy didn't miss a thing.

"Why won't you answer my question?" I asked, and he had the audacity to smile.

"Why won't you answer mine ?"

I shrugged. His question wasn't hard to answer. "I want to know if you kissed, so I know I'm not wasting my time with any of this. You're either going to get laid or you're not."

Aiden's jaw ticked, his lips pulled tight together, and I growled in annoyance.

"If you're here with me, I'm sure that means you're not getting laid. Did you even try to kiss her? What the fuck, Aiden? I thought we were getting past your hesitation. If you don't tell her what you want, you'll never get out of the friend?—"

"I kissed her," he bit out. "For fuck's sake, Meredith. I kissed her. You happy?"

My mouth hung open in silence at his sudden temper, and it took me a moment to pick up the pieces of my brain. "You cursed. Not very gentlemanly of you."

"You don't make me feel very gentlemanly."

"No?"

"No," he grated, in my space again, his thigh settling between my own as he pushed my back against his car, with his hands on either side of my head.

"Did…" I cleared my throat. "Was it a good kiss?"

He lifted one shoulder. "I guess."

"You guess?" I huffed a laugh. "My god. We still have work to do with you, if that's your answer."

There was that one shoulder again. "I guess."

I licked my suddenly dry lips. "Do you think she liked it?"

"Not sure."

"What do you mean? How could you not be sure?"

He heaved out a sigh, as if I was the one not making any sense tonight. I was the teacher. He was the student here. I was the one who had the right to be frustrated. "It's not like we discussed it after."

"Well, how'd you do it? What did you say before? What did you say after? Was there tongue? Did she make any sounds? How did you touch?—"

"Fucking hell," he murmured, and then his lips were on mine.