Page 29 of Not in My Book

“What?”

“It’s the only way you and I know how to talk to each other. So I say we act normal and be mean.” The corners of Aiden’s mouth quirked up, but he didn’t say anything. “Fine. I’ll go first. You were rude at my apartment.”

He frowned. “No I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. About Ronny Jr.?”

“It’s a stupid way to keep the door open. Especially in your neighborhood—”

“Blah, blah, all I hear are insults about the place I pay a very high rent for.” I waved my hand. “But I’m over it now that I’ve said you’re a jackass to your face.”

“You didn’t say I was a jackass.”

“Anyway.Your turn.”

“Fine. You’re not very good at walking in heels,” he said, hesitating, as if he wasn’t sure if it was okay.

I gasped dramatically. “Not true!”

I had tripped nearly every step of the way, but I’d hoped he hadn’t noticed it. In my defense, we’d walked down Bond Street—which wascobblestone. It was practically impossible to walk on cobblestones even in sneakers.

“So I just imagined when you nearly face planted a few minutes ago?” He smirked, leaning back in his chair.

“You know, I think I meant it when I called you a jackass earlier.”

Aiden ignored that comment. “I just pretended not to notice because I’m a gentleman.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, right. If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”

“If you were a lady, you’d be able to walk in heels,” he pointed out, his voice light.

“Hey, I never claimed I was.”

The waitress finally came back to take our orders. Aiden’s frown deepened when I only got the salad, but he didn’t say anything. Sheleft us with a small basket of bread and butter. I knew that salad wouldn’t fill me up so I snatched a piece up immediately.

“How’d the middle school dance end up going?” I asked, stuffing a piece of bread in my mouth.

He grimaced. “Most of those kids haven’t figured out deodorant yet. And I can’t tell you the amount of grind lines I had to break up.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Gross. I always stayed by the snacks when those started. By far, the best part of the middle school dances were the moms who brought in cupcakes.”

“You went to those dances?” He must’ve caught me eyeing the breadbasket because he scootched it closer to me. I flashed him an appreciative smile, taking two more pieces. Then the final one for good measure.

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “It was always just an excuse to show off for girls and dance awkwardly in front of parents and teachers. I didn’t ever see a reason to go.”

“I went because of Trent Walsh,” I said dreamily. “He was the hottest guy in middle school. He had swoopy hair, his jeans sagged, and he had a chain.”

“So what? You went in hopes he’d dance with you?” His tone wasn’t judgmental, but curious. As if he hadn’t experienced the normalcy of having a crush as a middle schooler.

“I went because Iknewhe’d dance with me,” I corrected. “He told everyone that Friday that he liked my hair and thought I was the smartest girl in the grade. We danced to Coldplay. The gym lights were dim, we were in a corner, and he didn’t even try to grab my ass. It was so romantic. He was my first kiss.”

Aiden cleared his throat, suppressing a smile. Why was he always so reluctant to smile? Why did he force them away instead of inviting them to cover his face?

When our food finally arrived, I stared at Aiden’s plate of pasta with envy. It was piled onto his plate and garnished with fresh basil. He expertly twirled the noodles around his fork as I angrily stabbed at the lettuce of my pathetic salad. I couldn’t even afford the grilled chicken add-on.

I must’ve been staring at Aiden’s plate for too long because he stopped eating. He raised an eyebrow and offered his fork forward to me.

---