Page 68 of Overtime
“I’m not a random guy, but you can ask me.”
Going by his expression, he asked me about the weather and I hallucinated the past thirty seconds.
I start laughing. At myself. That’s definitely what happened. I’m finally losing my mind.
Aran’s smirk comes back. “Am I not your reverse tutor?”
Just like that, my laughter snuffs out. I blink hard. Open and close my mouth. “You’re kidding.”
“Am I laughing?”
No. He looks amused, but I’ve heard him laugh before. I know he’s capable of it. And if he’s not doing it right now, it means he’s serious.
Flashes of fire and ice travel up my body. I clear my throat once. Twice. Push my hair behind my ears. Finally, I find the words to say, “You said hockey only,” and follow them up with a weak laugh.
“Well, who else are you going to ask to make out with you for book research?” Aran shrugs, arms still folded. “That’s what this is, anyway. Nothing else.”
“Right.” I nod rapidly. Then I start shaking my head so he won’t take my gesture as agreement. “No. It’s one thing to ask you what icing is, it’s another to…to … play tonsil hockey.”
“But isn’t that what your hockey tutor is for?”
“Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”
Aran grins. “Let me give you the inspiration you need, Maddie.”
Oh my word. He has no idea what he’s doing to me, does he?
A bead of sweat trickles down my temple, and I wipe it away. Then rub my hands together. The cursor keeps blinking against a completely blank page, the result of my absolute lack of a love life.
And then I remember when Aran Rodriguez first walked into my life, as if the heavens had sent him precisely so I could get off my behind and do all the things I’ve always been scared to do. Istood up to my bullies. I found new friends. I learned something new. Somehow, I had the courage to do all that when I was next to Aran.
I glance at him again. Maybe that’s what this is. A chance to try something I otherwise would never dare to. What Aran is offering is an epic kiss. The kind I’ve always wanted. When else would I have the chance to kiss the guy I’m into without showing my hand?
“For my book,” I say, my heart thumping wildly in my ears and almost making me dizzy.
“No strings attached.”
His voice sounds weird, but that could be because I’m having trouble anchoring in reality. I grip the edge of the table hard.
“Right. Okay.”
“Let’s go.” Aran pushes his chair back and starts to get up.
“What?” I whisper, checking our surroundings to see if anyone’s paying attention to this mess. “Right now?”
He deadpans, “When else? In five days? Yeah, right now.”
And then he does the thing. The one that nearly undid me when he took me skating. He bends his fingers in ac’mongesture.
As if I’m having an out of body experience, I find myself standing up too. I walk around the table until Aran clasps his hand in mine and tugs me along. He faces forward, and I stare at the back of his head, at the muscles in his neck.
What the heck are we doing? Are we really going to find somewhere to make out? Just like that?
The library is almost empty, and most of the people we pass ignore us. Aran weaves through them to the middle hallway. I feel his hand readjust its grip on mine a little tighter. The sensation rushes through my body like a lick of fire.
When he leads us down the path between two shelves, I say, “If this is a prank, it’s not funny.”
All I hear is a little snort.
