Page 7 of Fostering Chemistry
I bit back a smile. Tattoo or no, he was a very polite guy. “Of course, but honestly, it would be more impressive if you could turn the mattress from where you are.”
Aaron laughed, entering the room as I moved back. “I’ve heard Diego’s speech on consent so many times that it’s getting in my head.”
He strode over and surveyed the heavy mattress, still chatting. “What’d you think of him?”
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him—and that night at the party—but I just shrugged. “He seems like a good guy.”
“He really means what he said. If you have any problems, you can go to him.”
“Good to know.” Except what would I do if he was the problem? I still couldn’t believe he didn’t remember me. I sure remembered whathelooked like. That dark, shiny hair. Those soulful eyes. That sad mouth, his lips—wait. Why did I think he looked sad? I couldn’t remember exactly why, but somehow that impression stuck with me. What would a good-looking guy like him have to be sad about?
Aaron strolled around to my side of the bed and whistled as he patted the concave part.
“This crater is so big, it’s like a meteor hit.”
“If we can just turn it around, then that side will be toward the wall,” I said. “I sleep on this side.”
“Why don’t we flip it? Then that side will be buried underneath, and both sides will be usable.”
“I only need one side.”
“But why not have both sides flat? I mean, you never know—” He stopped, smacking himself in the forehead. “That came out wrong.”
I laughed at the fact that he was suddenly the nervous one. “I guess it is a good idea, but this thing is super heavy. I couldn’t even slide it over a few inches.”
He flexed one arm, and his sleeve inching up to reveal more of the dark ink on his bicep. “I haven’t exercised yet today, so this will count as my workout.”
I had my doubts, but if he was willing to try, I was in.
“So, how do we do this? I’ve never had a bed this big before.”
“Me either. Let’s strip the sheets.” He grabbed the nearest corner and tugged.
Once the mattress was bare, Aaron located two rope handles at the base and pulled it out a few feet.
“Can you climb up there by the headboard?”
“Okay.”
I kicked off my shoes before doing so.
“Now take hold of the right side, and when I count to three, we’re going to lift it straight up. Got it?”
“I think so.” My voice sounded doubtful even to me.
He counted us off, and I lifted the corner of the mattress—which didn’t budge. He was doing better on his side, raising that corner up along with half the length of the mattress. My end wasn’t moving at all.
He stepped around to the side of the mattress, his hands outstretched as he continued to raise the massive thing. His biceps bulged, which was not what I was supposed to be paying attention to right now.
“Come on, push,” he said.
He climbed onto the box springs, still hoisting the top of the mattress up and up and?—
“Watch out!” I shrieked.
The edge of the mattress—and his hands—were dangerously close to the ceiling fan. He spotted the danger and let go of the mattress, backing away. It slammed down heavily, and the resulting jolt on the box springs bounced me forward, where I landed in a heap with my limbs tangled and my hair hanging in my face.
“Are you okay?” Aaron seemed to be asking me that a lot, which was probably all the evidence he needed to know that I wasn’t.
