He continues to show me what he’s ordered, from grilled black cod to tempura vegetables. I eagerly fill my plate with a bit of everything, and Aiden does the same, just with twice the amount of cod and steak, and we take turns heating up the food in the microwave. Finally, we’re ready to eat.
“You have a bit of a break before you travel again,” I say, using my chopsticks to pick up a piece of steak. “What are you going to do, besides practice?”
Aiden’s eyes dance mischievously at me. “You can’t get your dad to call those off, can you? I’d really like a day to just nap.”
“Let me think on that. No.”
“I’m only joking. Practice is part of the job,” he says easily. “But I don’t fly out again until Saturday, then we’re on the road until Thanksgiving. And why am I telling you this? You know the schedule.”
We both fall silent for a moment, as this turn in the conversation has brought us back to the reality we’ve both excelled at ignoring.
I’m Scarlett Rivershon.The coach’s daughter.
And if we keep seeing each other—as we’re both committed to doing—this will have to be addressed at some point.
Not tonight,I tell myself firmly.
Am I falling for Aiden? Yes.
But we’re still so new. It’s soearly. There’s no sense rushing to tell my dad and causing a huge blowout until we get to the point where we know it’s incredibly serious.
“I’d like to see you before I have to fly out again, if it works with your schedule,” Aiden says, and relief fills me as we both ignore the reality that popped up between us.
“I’m really slow at work,” I say. “We do have our office potluck, which completely creeps me out.”
“Potluck creeps you out? Tell me more,” he says, eating some of his cod.
“I’m adventurous in eating, but potluck is a whole new level,” I explain. “You don’t know the cleanliness of the person who made it. If their counters were clean. Food stored at the right temperature. It’s just …gross. Ew, I hate them!”
He begins to laugh. “So what do you eat when you have to go to one?”
“Anything that looks like it came from a restaurant or bakery. Safer.”
“So what do you bring?”
I begin to chuckle.
“What, I’m serious. I want to know,” he says.
“We’re actually talking about potlucks.”
“And?”
“We’re in ourtwenties, Aiden. This is not normal.”
“Are we supposed to be playing cup pong? We’re past college,” he says, smiling at me.
“No, I didn’t even enjoy cup pong when it was my cup-pong era,” I admit.
He laughs. “Your cup-pong era.”
“I know, I just never liked to be sloppy drunk,” I say. “Besides, someone had to make sure everyone got back to the dorm or apartment safely.”
“So you were like the crossing guard?”
I snort laugh. “Crossing guard? What?”
He begins to blush. “That wasn’t the right phrase.”
