Page 53 of Not in My Book

“I shouldn’t throw off your count bythatmuch.”

“You eat alotof Papa a La Huancaína.”

I switched to Spanish. “Te llamarémás tarde. Estoy con un amigo.”

“Un amigo?” She gasped. “¿Es guapo? Es su—”

“Te llamarémás tarde, Mami. Te quiero mucho.” I hung up before she could say anything else and turned back toward Aiden with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, my mom’s just …”

“No worries.” He waved me off. “Family’s complicated. You’ve met my dad.” He cleared his throat and looked down at his leather watch. “Actually, I keep meaning to thank you again for saving me. Do you want to grab dinner? My treat.”

“Um …” I stuttered, thrilled at the prospect. I sat forward, leaning over the table—and knocking the rest of my iced coffee over in the process. “Shit.”

“Here, let me grab some napkins.” Aiden stood from the table to grab napkins while I sat helplessly at the table. This was why I didn’t have a boyfriend and this was why I didn’t like going on dates. I freaked out the minute I got asked out and ruined it. Romance was always better in my head and in books.

I helped Aiden clean up the ice and spilled coffee in silence, trying to find a way to sayYES. I DO WANT TO GET DINNER WITH YOU.

“If you’re busy tonight,” Aiden said, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, “then we don’t have—”

“No,” I said a little too forcefully. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking deep breaths. “Sorry, I’m just flustered.”

His eyebrows raised and my face got so hot, I was surprised it didn’t melt off.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you. Let’s leave this God-forsaken coffee shop as soon as we can.” I slipped my jacket on quickly, and he stuffed his black notebook in his bag.

“I know of a pretty good burger place a few blocks down, if that sounds good?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to calm my heart rate down. “I’m hungry for anything.”

He followed me closely out of the store, placing his hand carefully on the small of my back.

As we walked toward the burger joint, I tried to conjure ways for him to press his hand on my back again.

She was so obviously sad about the prospect of being alone; gone was the brightness in her eyes, and I was so afraid they would fill with tears that I was willing to do whatever it took to soothe the wrinkle between her eyebrows. The offer to spend time with her spilled out of my mouth, the color of hope, tinged with regret.

“You don’t have to do that.” But even as she said this her voice wavered. “I don’t want charity. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s not charity if I genuinely want to be around you, Max.”

—Excerpt fromUntitledby Rosie Maxwell and Aiden Huntington

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“No onions, no mustard, not too much mayo, and not too much ketchup,” I said to our waitress. “But could you mix the ketchup and mayo up? Oh! And do you have barbeque sauce?” She had a dead look in her eye that turned vicious as I started to order. “And a side of fries, unless they’re crinkle fries, then I’ll just do without them. But if you have waffle fries, I’ll have two servings.” She angrily punched my order into her tablet, glaring at me.

Aiden had cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I’ll just have the number three.”

“You know,” he said once our food arrived. “I’d wondered why the burrito at Juanita’s food truck had such a unique selection of toppings in it. Now I get it.”

“Listen,” I said between bites. “It’s not bad to be picky.”

He nodded at my plate. “Are you going to eat the pickle?”

“Ick, no it’s all yours.” I stabbed it with the toothpick from my burger and placed it on his plate.

“You don’t like pickles?” He frowned.

“It’s the juice.” I shuddered. “Kids at my middle school used to drink it, and it grossed me out.”

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