Page 123 of Not in My Book

“If it’s Mr. Terra tell him I’m not teaching bratty fourteen-year-olds.”

“It’s not Mr. Terra.”

I paused, frowning. But soon curiosity had me padding down the stairs, the wood creaking beneath me.

“Mom, if this was a trick just to get me to talk to Mr. Terra, then I’m moving out. And I mean it this time. I’ll get a job at Dollywood and never look—”

“Hi.”

Aiden Huntington was standing in the doorway of my front door, his head skimming the top of the doorframe. He was holding a bouquet of roses wrapped in white paper. He was wearing a suit of all things—and he washere.

His suit jacket was crumpled, like he had been wearing it for hours. It looked like he hadn’t slept or combed his hair in days. Whenever his hair was like that—sticking up in every direction, the perfect combination of bedhead and gorgeous—it meant he had been running his hands through it, probably grasping at the ends.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked harshly. I was still on the bottom step. I shifted my weight, ashamed of myself for feeling self-conscious in running shorts and a ratty t-shirt from high school. I shouldn’t care what I looked like in front of him anymore, but part of me wanted to appear as if the breakup hadn’t destroyed me.

He wasn’t affected by my tone—his face was open and hopeful, his eyes soft and pleading. “I hoped we could talk,” he said gently.

“So, talk.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to keep as much distance between me and Aiden as possible. I couldn’t even stand to look at him, my chest hurt so bad.

“Could we talk outside?” He was eyeing the kitchen behind me. My parents and Maria and Peter were having dinner together, their boisterous laughs flooding through the house.

“Fine.”

I walked past him out onto my front porch, my breath catching as my shoulder brushed his chest. He followed slowly behind me and took a seat on the porch steps next to me. There wasn’t enough distance between us, and I had to resist the urge to scoot to the opposite end of the steps. His long legs were folded, his knees pressing against his chest as we sat.

“These are for you. I got them from the shop downtown.” He pushed the bouquet of roses toward me, and I took them tentatively. I laid them down next to me, resisting the urge to sniff them.

“How’d you know where I lived?”

“I begged Alexa.”

“Traitor,” I muttered.

“I came here to explain.”

I scoffed. “Of course.”

“Rosie—”

“No, no, go ahead. Clear your conscience. I’ll sit here and listen, then you can head on home.”

I was provoking him. I wanted some sort of reaction because I’d truly rather fight with him at this point. It was so much better to be at war with him than to sit here and hope that maybe he had changed his mind.

“I plan on apologizing, too, but—”

“But only after you feel better about yourself.”

“Would you let me talk?” he snapped.

“Why should I?” I snapped back. “You’ve had a month to talk. I don’t know why it’s taking you so long to just spit it out.”

“It’s a two-way street, you know. You could’ve talked to me if you wanted to.” He was getting angry now.

“The difference is I don’t have anything to say to you.” I stood from the steps onto the pavement, suddenly needing to be away from him again. Any piece of myself I had begun to put together these past few weeks was falling away fast, and I couldn’t protect myself from him if he was sitting right next to me.

“I’m not doing this, Aiden. I’m not indulging you so you can go back to New York and feel good about yourself while I’m here in Tennessee, trying to figure it all out. I don’t care anymore.”

“That’s not true.” He stood, too. I had to look up at him to meet his eye and that just pissed me off further. I moved past him to the top step, so we were the same height. He rolled his eyes but stayed put.

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