Aidan reappears beside me and bends down so we're nearly eye to eye. “Okay, now that that's out-of-the-way, what is it you need so badly? Please don't say it's a tube of lip gloss.”
I reach out and pinch his arm. “Of course not. It's only the world’s most expensive face cream.”
Aidan nods, but his expression is derisive. “Ah, yes. Face cream. An item that can be bought at nearly every street corner in America.”
I reach out again to pinch him, but this time he knows it's coming and grabs my wrist mid-air. “I’m kidding.”
He drops down onto his knees and peers underneath the car. It's so low to the ground that it can't be easy for him. After a few seconds, he grips the bumper of the car with his left hand, his right hand disappearing underneath. A moment later he sits up with his arm outstretched, his fingers curled around my precious bottle of youth in a jar.
“Thank you,” I tell him, resisting the urge to wrap my arms around him. We both stand, and I tuck the bottle back into my bag and double check that it's zipped properly.
“You're welcome.” He slams the trunk closed and glances at me. “Please don't lose it in the garbage. I'm not a big fan of dumpster diving.”
Laughing, I walk around to the passenger side and open the door. I have to bend my knees to slide into the low profile car. The light has gone through a full cycle and is red again, but just like before, I know it won't be red for long.
“Not too shabby,” I say when Aidan gets in and closes his door. My fingers slip over the supple leather seats.
“It's a 2018,” Aidan grins. “I lucked out. They just happened to have this model available.”
From the center compartment, he produces his black driving gloves. It's not until this moment that I realized he didn't have them on during the face cream fiasco. He makes a show of putting them on, trying to entice me to comment. I say nothing, looking out at the street.
“You should probably start to drive unless you were looking to get into another verbal altercation,” I say, pointing up at the now green light.
Aidan taps on the gas pedal and the car flies forward, sending me slamming back into my seat.
Aidan looks at me sheepishly. “It takes a little getting used to.”
I nod my head, my lower lip captured between my teeth to keep from laughing.
I spent a lot of last night stressing over what this car ride would be like. Needless to say, I did not anticipate making a spectacle of ourselves in the middle of a crowded Manhattan Street. It was just what we needed to break the awkwardness that's been sitting between us.
“How was your week?” It seems like an innocuous enough question, and a good way to start conversation.
Aidan runs a hand through his unkempt hair and shifts gears. He seems to be considering my question, and then he answers. “I guess it was okay. None of those little shits wanted to do any work this week. They came into my classroom already on vacation.”
“To be honest, I'm pretty sure I went into work already on vacation this week.”
“If I was in your line of work, I'd want to be on a permanent vacation.”
I roll my eyes. Aidan and accountant really doesn't mix. Then again, I never thought Aidan and math teacher mixed either, and yet somehow they do. Maybe it's because Aidan doesn't look like a traditional math teacher. Even in his work clothes, which consist of jeans and a button-down shirt, there's something about him, some underlying wildness. Like even though his wildness can be tempered, it can't be tamed.
“I could definitely do your job,” I say confidently, crossing my arms in front of myself.
“I have no doubt that you could.” Aidan looks over at me. “The question is, do you want another number job?”
I think about my manuscript. At this very minute, it's tucked away in my bag, down at the very bottom. Maybe if the opportunity arises, I’ll show it to Aidan's mom.Maybe. Even five minutes of her time would be worth its weight in gold. I hate the idea of taking advantage of my connection, but I know it’s foolish not to.
I reach forward, pushing buttons until the radio comes on. Then I push more buttons until I find something suitable to listen to. “You know what kind of job I want, Aidan.”
Aidan makes a fist and shakes it in front of him. “Take it. Make it yours,” he says in a rough voice. I'm almost positive he's quoting one of those war movies he likes so much.
“I saw your manuscript in your bag, Nat.”
“Forget you saw it, Aidan. I brought it so I can work on it if I have downtime.”
“It’s finished.”
“There are always little things I can tweak.”
