Page 31 of Not in My Book

“Maxine,” he corrected.

I waved a dismissive hand. “Same thing and you know it.”

“Next question,” he said.

“That’s not how you move through life, you know. You can’t just avoid questions in conversations because you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Oh puh-lease, you’re basically squirming in your chair.”

“You’re deluded.”

“A little bit,” I said with a laugh. The waitress interrupted us with a dessert menu.

“Are you lovebirds thinking about dessert?”

“Oh, no.” I pushed it away from me. “I think we’ll just take the check. If you could split—”

“Rosalinda, order dessert,” Aiden said, sounding utterly exhausted.

“No,” I said, pushing the menu toward the waitress.

“I know you have a sweet tooth. I know you want dessert. Just order some.” He was pushing his own menu toward me. The waitress looked between us, hesitantly stepping away.

“Why don’t I give you two a few minutes to decide?”

“That’s not necessary,” I said.

“Thank you,” Aiden said at the same time.

I glared at him from across the table. He held out the menu again. I folded my arms across my chest, lifting my chin defiantly.

“Just order some damn dessert, Rosie. I’m paying.”

“No way. I’m not letting you buy me a salad that I didn’t even eat, give me half of your food,andpay for dessert. It’s too much.”

“It’s not too much,” he said. His brow was furrowed, that same stern tone in his voice that made my insides melt. “You come into class nearly every day with a different form of chocolate. Just order.”

I tried not to let my shock show because that was true. I couldn’t go a few hours without some sort of sweet. I usually kept M&Ms in my bag but sometimes if I got a nice tip, I bought cookies or a chocolate croissant from the bakery a few blocks down. And sometimes I stole Morochas, Peruvian cookies, from Alexa.

Then again, maybe it was obvious that I did this. Maybe it meant absolutely nothing that Aiden paid attention to what I did in class and remembered it. Stored it away in a file in his brain of random facts about Rosalinda. It was probably ammo for later.

But I really did want dessert.

“Fine.” I took the menu from him. “But you have to eat some, too.”

“Oh no, am I being forced to eat chocolate cake? Whatever shall I do?” he deadpanned.

I raised a brow. “How do you know I’m getting the chocolate cake?”

“Because there’s no way you’re getting the tiramisu,” he said as if it were obvious. He sat forward and gently took the menu from me. His green eyes were shining in the candlelight and I wished, just for a second, that this was real. That we were on a real date. I quickly dismissed the thought because in no universe would Aiden Huntington and I ever be together.

“Am I right?” he asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yes,” I muttered.

He lifted his chin. “Knew it.”

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