Page 8 of Fostering Chemistry
“Maybe the dip’s not so bad.” I curled onto my side, resting my arm under my head. “I could sleep here.”
He sat down next to me. “That’s like saying that the Grand Canyon is a mere drainage ditch.”
I curled my lip and blew upward, making the stray hair fly off my forehead. But then it settled right back down again. Aaron’s hand twitched, like he was about to push my hair back for me, but then it stilled. Apparently, Diego’s lecture about consent worked on everyone except drunk, depressed partiers. My memory was a bit fuzzy, but I was pretty sure we’d both pounced on each other without exchanging many—or perhaps any—words at all.
“Maybe we need reinforcements,” he said. “I think Diego gets out of class soon.”
“I don’t want to bother him.” The words rushed out of my mouth.
“Raymond was in the kitchen earlier,” Aaron said, a bit doubtfully. Neither of us seemed very inclined to enlist his help.
“Maybe we just need to try a different way,” I said. “I don’t suppose you’re an engineering student?”
“Public administration.”
“Oh, right, you said that last night.” I hesitated. “But I don’t really know what that means.”
“It means I don’t know a clever way to lift and flip a mattress without being decapitated by a ceiling fan.”
I smiled. He sure was easy to talk with.
He returned the smile. “It means I want to work for the city someday.”
“Haverford?” I’d only lived here for less than two months, but the town was very small, with the university as the main focal point.
“Chattanooga. That’s where I’m from.” He leaned back, his palms on the bed behind him. “Public admin teaches you how cities are run. Economics, my minor, is about why they fail—or who they fail. I want to get involved, work my way up to a city council position, at least.” His expression turned reflective. “My grandfather was mayor.”
“Really?” That seemed impressive. “Your bio grandfather?”
“No, adoptive. I kind of lucked out—I got taken in by a big, robust family. They had lots of foster kids over the years. For the most part, we’re all still family.”
Wow. That was a lot different from my experience. I’d parted ways with my last foster family the moment I’d graduated from high school. Sara was the only one who truly felt like my family. And now she was gone. I pushed that thought from my mind and focused on Aaron. “So, you want to be mayor someday?”
He gave a faint smile. “Maybe. Does that sound crazy?”
I studied him. He had the face for it, that was for sure—the square jaw, those golden hazel eyes… it was the kind of look people instinctively trusted. He was on the soft-spoken side, but that kind of thing might make voters pay more attention and know he wasn’t just blustering. In my head, I dressed him in a fitted black suit. Of course, he looked amazing. Of course it worked.
Then I remembered the tattoo on his bicep and blinked. “Wait, can mayors have tattoos?”
“You saw that?” He sounded a little odd, and I wondered if he thought I’d been spying on him or something.
“Just the other day when your sleeve rode up.” My words sped up. “I didn’t mean anything by it, of course mayors can have tattoos…”
“It’s all good.” Aaron’s normal smile returned. “Hopefully someday I’ll find out.”
“You’ve got my vote.”
“Are you registered to vote in Tennessee?” His voice sounded teasing again, thankfully.
“Ohio.”
“Too bad. Maybe you can run my campaign instead. Didn’t you say your major was communications?”
“Digital media and communications.”
“That sounds like someone who can get a message across.”
I shrugged. “If I can make it through all the general ed classes first.”
