I keep talking, because if I stop, I’ll never start again.
“I wanted to tell you, but after everything blew up online, I couldn’t. And then you were in lab, and I was in lab, and it just kept getting worse. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—”
He cuts me off, voice low. “Spencer.”
I look up, and his face is unreadable.
He says my name again, softer. “Spencer. It’s okay.”
I blink, not believing it.
He laughs, but it’s not the laugh I expected. It’s real, and maybe a little bit wrecked.
“I’m not mad.” His hand finds mine, covering it, his palm warm and solid even through the tremor. “I’m kinda glad it was you.”
The words hit me like a reagent poured into water—an instant, total change, no going back. I brace for the backlash. Laughter, probably; maybe a little disgust, or that hyper-masculine revulsion some guys pull out when the ground shifts under them. But it doesn’t come.
He just sits there, thumb resting against my wrist, his coffee cup suspended halfway to his lips like he’s forgotten it ever existed.
The silence stretches. I stare at the swirl of his drink and try not to count the milliseconds ticking away between us.
Aaron clears his throat, but the sound is ragged.
I pull my hand back, skin tingling where he touched me. “I’m sorry. I know it’s messed up. I should have said something weeks ago, but—”
He shakes his head and cuts me off. “No. You don’t have to apologize.” He looks down at his cup, then back up at me, as if recalibrating his entire internal chemistry set. “I just—damn, you really pulled it off, didn’t you?”
I flush. “Sara did most of the work. The makeup, the walk, the whole—” I break off, gesturing vaguely, as if I can mime my way through the embarrassment. “It was supposed to be a joke. I lost a bet with Hunter. I didn’t think it would go as far as it did.”
Aaron’s face flickers, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He’s not angry, or even embarrassed. If anything, he seems relieved—like the last variable in an impossible equation has finally snapped into place.
He sets his coffee down, both hands wrapped around the cup now. “Can I be honest with you?”
I nod, my heart somewhere between my stomach and my throat.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night,” he says, words coming out slow, deliberate, like each one needs to be weighed and measured. “Not just because of the kiss, though yeah, that was—” He laughs, the sound small and real. “That was something. But mostly because for the first time ever, I didn’t feel like I had to be on. Like I could just… be.” He rubs the back of his neck, awkward. “I kept trying to figure out why it felt so different. Why you felt so different.”
He looks at me then, curious, open, like he’s waiting to see what happens if he steps just a little bit closer to the edge.
I can’t help it. I start laughing, quiet at first, then louder as the tension melts away. “So basically, the universe’s biggest prank is that you had your Big Romantic Moment with me by accident.”
Aaron grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I cover my face with my hands. “This is mortifying.”
He reaches over and pulls my hands away, gentle but insistent. “Stop. You’re not allowed to be embarrassed. I mean, come on—” He leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “You were incredible. I don’t think anyone’s ever thrown me off my game like that.”
I feel my face go even redder, which I would have thought physically impossible ten seconds ago.
Aaron squeezes my fingers, his own hand shaking just a little. “You know what’s wild? I think I like you better like this.”
I stare at him, not sure what to do with the words. “Like what? Neurotic and undercaffeinated?”
He shakes his head. “No, just… you. All of it.”
I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry, so I settle for staring at our hands on the table, side by side.
After a minute, Aaron lets out a slow breath. “So, uh, does this mean I owe you dinner? Or is that too weird?”
