Page 27 of The One Decent Thing

“Oh,” I choked, and turned away. “If you brought someone home that’s cool, I’ll head to bed.”

My voice wasn’t too raw, at least, and he couldn’t see my face. It hit me like a gut-punch, though. Being lonely and horny and too neurotic to pick someone up myself sucked enough. Listening to Aidan through the wall while he spent the night with some girl would be…maybe I’d sleep in the back yard. Or not sleep.

“C’mon, Sebastian, do you see any girls here?” His voice had a thread of amusement under the exasperation — and it got closer as he spoke. He was right behind me. I couldn’t turn around. “It didn’t work. I got all freaked out by the lights and the noise. I got something better, though.”

“Yeah?” I put my glass on the counter and fiddled with it, pretending to be doing something.

Aidan’s hand settled on my shoulder, and I jumped. “Hey.” He tugged me around, gently but inexorably. I pressed myself back against the counter to get as much space as I could, but it wasn’t much. Not enough. A hint of salt-laced, foggy outside air, and smoke, and sweat wafted to me, and I wanted to bury my face in his chest and fill my lungs with big, greedy gulps. Aidan’s face lit with a smile, suddenly, his eyes glowing. “I got a job. Maybe a job, if you help me.”

“Of course.” I cleared my throat and shifted my posture a little, trying to angle my body away from his. I was half hard, and what if he noticed? What if he stood infinitesimally closer andfeltit? Now I was more than half hard. What he’d said finally, really sank in, though. “Wait, seriously? A job job, not like a gig job?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and made a face. “What, am I that useless?”

“Shut up,” I shot back, and gave his chest a shove. His firm, muscular chest, and my hand lingered a little, and my fingers started to stroke in circles, and I watched it like I’d watch a horror movie, totally helpless to stop it from happening and internally screaming.

Aidan reached up and took my hand. And instead of pulling it away and telling me to keep my hands to myself, he — held it there. Held it, with his long, strong fingers wrapped around mine.

“A job job,” he confirmed, and gave my hand a squeeze. Aidan was so close, and all I could see were his eyes, gleaming with pride and something else I couldn’t name, and getting even closer. Like he was leaning in without even realizing it. “It’s to be a bouncer at a club downtown. The owner and I talked. It was totally random, but I think it could really work out.”

“What — what do you need me for?” I whispered. Oh hell, that sounded like a bad pickup line.

I licked my dry lips, and Aidan dropped my hand and stepped back like he’d been burned, halfway tripping over a chair. The clatter broke the spell and I sucked in a breath like I hadn’t been breathing at all for the past few minutes. Maybe I hadn’t. I felt dizzy, like all the oxygen had disappeared.

Aidan flailed for a second and ended up leaning against the fridge, like that’s what he’d meant to do all along. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it rumpled. It’d grown out a little since he moved in, and it looked more like I remembered him from high school.

“I told him the truth,” Aidan said. “About prison. About why I went there.” He shrugged. “Rick said if you’d vouch for me, he’d hire me.”

“Of course I will,” I promised him. “Of course. And congratulations. That’s so awesome.”

“Thanks,” Aidan said quietly. “I knew you would, but still — thanks.”

My head was starting to really pound, and I still had a partial erection, and Aidan wasn’t getting any less attractive, lounging there with his broad shoulders and thick arms on display and smiling at me. I had to go to bed before I lost it.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t have to face the music. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “About earlier. I was way out of line.”

“Yeah,” Aidan said simply. “You were. The sorry jar doesn’t get a dollar this time, because you owed me that.”

I winced. “I don’t know what made me —” I stopped, dry-mouthed, because that was a lie about to come out of my mouth, and lying to him on top of being such a dick felt so wrong. Jealousy was what made me act like that. Not that I could say that, but I could at least own being wrong and not dig myself deeper. “I’m sorry. I was drunk and stupid.”

Aidan eyed me consideringly, with way too much acuity, and I felt like an annoying little germ under a microscope. “I’m sorry too,” he said at last, to my infinite relief. Thank God, he didn’t hate me. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just trying to be nice to your friends, but I guess that kind of nice isn’t cool with you. I didn’t mean any harm.”

“I know.” The funny side of it all hit me, along with the last of the alcohol in my bloodstream, and I started to giggle. “You’re going to have to — fight Chris off from now on, though —” I wiped the tears from my eyes and huffed a breath. All the crying I’d done earlier had left me ready to start sobbing again, and a giggle fit would do it. My hands were all tingly. “At least he got — a thrill.” Covering my face with my hands, I slumped down until I was nearly sliding to the floor. God, I was so tired.

“Come on,” Aidan said, and then his hand was around my arm. “You need to get to bed.”

Those words in his deep, gravelly voice nearly unraveled me, all the little threads of Sebastian trailing across the floor, but I nodded and stumbled along where he led me.Get in bed with me and never leave?I might have mumbled something, but Aidan didn’t react. He got me poured into my bed, my clothes all still on, and then quietly said good night and left, shutting the door behind him.

I wrestled out of my jeans, flopping across the mattress like a starfish once I’d shoved them to the floor. Oh. My. God. I was so done. My midterm felt like years ago, not just a few hours.

Passing out was a blessing, though my last hazy thought was that waking up would suck.

Chapter Fourteen

Aidan

Between Rick’s job offer on Thursday night and the meeting I was supposed to have with him on Monday, I tried my best to keep as busy as possible. Friday and Saturday mornings I went to the hardware store and picked up some work, one day tarping and wood-chipping a big section of ground in front of an office park on the edge of town, and the next carrying what felt like a million paving stones up a hill to cover some McMansion’s new driveway. Both of the jobs left me beat, and I didn’t have much time to worry, hang out with Sebastian, or even notice whether he was around. I got home and crashed, pretty much, and only ran into him briefly.

Friday he’d been hung over, anyway, I was sure. He was still drunk when I dragged him to bed — not enough that I checked on him during the night, but I considered it. Tucking him in was a lot less stressful when I knew he was just plastered and not panicking. He’d been together enough to undress himself without my help, so I didn’t have to think about it. That was also less stressful.

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