Page 25 of Made Over by Meredith

Because he did a fine goddamn job of letting it out with me last weekend.

And now he was going on another date. To let it out withher.

I’d been so anxious all day that I’d picked at my nails and required an emergency appointment after I left school. But it wasn’t until I’d tipped my nail technician and said goodbye to her that I received the text from him. Like he knew I was at my lowest.

His message readYou have time to come over to my place tonight? Need help.

I rolled my eyes, waited exactly three minutes, and then texted him back.Fine.

His response came immediately.Unit 5: second date protocol.

He thought he was cute.

He wasn’t.

He was annoying.

I stopped home to change, then headed over to Aiden’s. He lived on his own, in a one bedroom on the bottom floor of a small apartment building. And when he opened the door to me, his answering smile crept slowly across his features.

From behind his glasses, his eyes swept over me. Then he outright grinned. “You look cute.”

Aiden and I were nothing more than friends. Nothing but teacher and pupil. Because, otherwise, I would have been calculated.

Always.

I always thought ahead when it came to men. Planned down to my eyelashes and doesn’t- it-look-like-I-only-spent-five-minutes-on-myself-this-morning look. Because men didn’t actually want reality. They wanted a made-up version of the truth. They wanted pretty without the hassle. They wanted flirtation and fight, but ultimately they wanted to win.

They wanted anillusion.

And I wasn’t going to give that to Aiden.

I wore my most unflattering yet comfiest jeans and Kent State long-sleeved shirt that was approximately a decade old. I wasn’t cute.

I was his friend.

That was it.

And I was hungry.

Hangry.

I kicked off my shoes and helped myself to flopping on his couch, scrolling on my phone, searching for a pizza place to deliver.

“I’ve got a date with Celeste tonight.”

I nodded, attention on my cell. “Claire told me.”

“Got any tips?”

“Kiss her first thing,” I said, tapping on the screen to pull up a menu. “So she knows what’s up.”

He made a sound of agreement and came to stand in front of me, his feet and knees nearly touching mine. “What’re you doing?”

“Ordering dinner.”

“For me too?”

I was slow to meet his gaze. “You’re not having dinner with your girl?”

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