Page 91 of Fostering Chemistry
“Hey,” he said, coming toward me. He hesitated and then leaned in, kissing me lightly on the forehead. “I came to see if you needed help flipping the mattress again.”
I laughed and then groaned. “I’m never, ever doing that again. Even when I do have two working legs.” He was still hovering, so I gestured toward the desk chair. “Have a seat.”
He moved the tray. “Diego’s famous breakfast sandwich. He doesn’t make those for just anyone, you know.”
“Only the wounded?” I asked as he sat down.
“Something like that. How are you feeling?”
I gave him the short and sweet version. The nap had helped, but I hadn’t been on the antibiotics long enough for them to make much of a difference. Then again, it was somewhat better, and I had a vague memory of getting some kind of shot yesterday at the clinic.
So maybe it was time to focus on something other than my leg. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” His smile was gentle and encouraging.
“I have to make a video presentation for my class, and mine’s going to be on helping foster kids navigate the college application process.”
“That’s a good topic. I know the process can be daunting for a lot of students.”
“Was it for you?” I asked curiously.
“No. Three of my siblings went here, so there wasn’t much doubt I’d get in.” Aaron got that somewhat embarrassed look he often had when discussing his family’s wealth and privilege.
“The thing is, instead of making the presentation myself, I’m supposed to assemble a team, so that I can get experience managing a project.”
He smiled. “So you’re looking for flunkies to boss around?”
“If you sign on early, I’d be willing to elevate you to a minion.”
He laughed. “I’m in. What do you want me to do?”
“I was thinking the voiceover. I’d write the script, and you’d just have to read and record it.”
“Me?”
“I’m fairly sure you know how to read.”
“Yeah, but…” he bent his leg, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. “My voice is pretty ordinary.”
“I don’t think it is. When your grandfather gave that beautiful speech at the anniversary party, he still had his strong publicspeaking voice. The kind a politician needs. And I’ve heard an echo of that in your voice a couple of times.”
“Really?” he sounded genuinely surprised.
“Yes. I think you’re kind of… growing into it. So maybe my bossing you around will help.”
He grinned. “Then by all means, sign me up.”
“I already did.” I shifted on the bed, moving my leg a few inches over. “Thank you. And thank you for the flowers, too.”
He glanced at the desk, and his face fell. “Not from me. I should’ve brought you some, though.”
Oh crap. “Sorry, I just thought…” Shit. This was embarrassing, and now I’d embarrassed him. “Is there a card?”
He examined them. “No. They smell good, though.” Perhaps to cover the awkward moment, he switched the subject. “Diego told me about the thing with your boss.”
Okay, he’d traded an awkward topic with a painful one. “Yeah, I really screwed that up.” Not that I was the best employee in the world, but I’d never made a boss cry before.
But Aaron just looked confused. “All he said was that she needed an internship over the winter break and that he thought she could ask about The Fraser.”
