I’d never have pegged him as the jealous type. Where does he even get off with that attitude? He’s always surrounded by girls, but I can’t have a coffee with another guy?
I do feel bad that I hadn’t texted him like I said I would, but I know his overblown reaction isn’t over a missed text. He stormed out of the café last night like a big jerk, without giving me a chance to explain. And the main thing that pisses me off is that he won’t return my texts now.
I think about sending him an explanation about who Eric is and what I was doing with him, but I don’t owe him that. He doesn’t deserve it.
And it’s not even as if we have any kind of commitment. I just don’t get it. I thought he was different. More mature.
From time to time, my anger fades and gives way to sadness. Things had been going so well between us, and now it’s just blown up in my face. Deep inside I feel like Aidan must not have cared that much about me if he’s so quick to cut me loose. Maybe he’s just using Eric as an excuse to drop me.
Between the anger and the sadness, I’m filled with a deep, deep ache that just won’t go away.
I really wish I could talk with Megan. She was such a comfort to me before. But I can’t figure out how to tell her what happened without also telling her about my conversation with Eric. So in addition to feeling as low as I’ve ever felt, I have to put on a happy face and act like nothing’s wrong.
I think things are about as bad as they can get, but I turn out to be very wrong about that.
On Sunday night, I receive a message from Professor Carmichael, my chemistry professor. Why on earth would he be sending me a message? Especially one that tells me to report to the office of the Vice Provost for Academic Affairs at eight the next morning to discuss my test. What the hell?
There are no other details given, but I know this can’t be good. I can’t have failed; can I?
My first impulse is to contact Aidan, and knowing I can’t do that just adds to the sick feeling in my stomach.
I barely get any sleep at all, and the next morning I’m dragging, but I get myself up and arrive at the Vice Provost’s office twenty minutes earlier than requested. When I’m finally summoned into the office forty minutes later, my stomach is tied up and twisted so tight from worry and nerves that I feel like I could split in two.
Professor Carmichael is there, along with the VP, and a woman who turns out to be from the Office of Academic Integrity. Before I can wonder about the meaning of her title and its relationship to my situation, my professor very bluntly gets to the point.
“Miss Paulson, we’ve called you in because you are suspected of cheating on your chemistry final. As you know, the school has a zero tolerance policy on cheating, and if you are found to be guilty of the accusation, disciplinary actions will lead to your expulsion.”
His words don’t register for several long moments. Cheating? Expulsion? I had no idea what to expect this morning, and an accusation of cheating never entered my mind.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” I say, looking from my professor to the two women, and back.
“Your test score was a 95,” he says. “Your quiz and test scores earlier in the semester were dismal. It’s simply not plausible that you could have improved that much and achieved that score on your final through honest means.”
I have one quick flash of jubilation at hearing my score before terror and outrage fight inside me. Indignation quickly gets the upper hand; I’m ice cold with fear, but hot anger flares.
“I have been studying my —” I almost say ass and catch myself. “Studying my butt off all semester. You can verify my sessions at the tutoring center. I’ve worked hard to bring up my grade, and the reward for my work is to be called a cheater? I can’t believe you would accuse me —”
The VP interrupts. “You said you went to the tutoring center?”
“Yes, and I had a really good tutor.” I’m trembling with adrenaline pulsing through me from my anger and anxiety. My voice cracks because thinking about Aidan, even now, makes me more emotional.
“We can try to contact your tutor through the registrar’s office to verify the sessions,” the VP says.
There is no way I want this hanging over my head for days while they try to sort it out. “I have his number. You can call him directly,” I say.
Their eyebrows shoot up, and I realize that if they get any hint of a personal relationship between me and Aidan, they’ll think he helped me cheat. The twisted knot that is my stomach tightens further.
Sure enough, the academic integrity woman pipes in. “Are you and your tutor friends?”
The question hurts, even in the midst of cheating accusations, and I’m not sure exactly how to answer it. I don’t know what Aidan and I are to each other now. Nothing, really. “We spent a lot of hours together in the last few weeks. We weren’t friends before he started tutoring me, though.”
That’s all true enough, and it leaves out the part of us meeting at the concert, which doesn’t matter anyway.
“So you didn’t request that he tutor you?” she says.
“No, we didn’t know each other before this.” It’s a little bit of a fib, but essentially true for their purposes.
“Students don’t typically have the contact information for someone they only know as a tutor,” the woman says gravely.
I let out a big sigh, not caring how it looks to them. This situation is pissing me off. I worked so hard, and now I have to deal with accusations like I’m some kind of criminal.
“I’m here on scholarship, and my scholarship was in jeopardy because of my chemistry grade. Chemistry has always been a challenge for me, but after I had my first tutoring session, things started to make sense for the first time.” I stop and take a deep breath. “My tutor’s a nice guy, and he could see that I was really stressed about it all, so he gave me his number so I could confirm when he’d be available at the tutoring center and continue working with him.”
“What’s your tutor’s name?” the VP asks.
Again, I get that twist of pain in my chest. “Aidan.”
“Aidan?” Professor Carmichael comes to attention. “Aidan Holt?”
“Yes.”
The three of them exchange glances and the professor says quietly, “He’s an excellent student.”
“Miss Paulson, would you step outside for a moment?” The Vice Provost opens the door for me and I go back into the waiting area, but I’m too agitated to sit down. I pace back and forth, listening to the murmur of voices behind the closed door. The VP’s admin keeps looking at me, probably wishing I’d take a seat, but I can’t.
After several long minutes, the professor opens the door just long enough to tell me that Aidan will be coming in. I picture him in his bedroom, barely awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hair even messier than usual, and the knot in my stomach gives way to a dull ache in my chest.
It hurts so much, because he’s broken my heart just like I was afraid he would, but not at all in the way I’d expected. I keep replaying his words and the look on his face at the café, and for the first time I realize that he wasn’t just mad. He was hurt by seeing me with Eric.
The thought of hurting him, even accidentally, makes the ache inside me sharper. And then it hits me, right in the middle of this nightmare — I’m in love with Aidan.
He’s sexy and ridiculously hot, but there’s so much more to him. He’s smart and he’s driven, and down-to-earth even though he’s a local rock god. And he cares about me. I can see it now. I’ve been so angry that he jumped to conclusions and acted like a jealous jerk, but maybe he had reasons.
Feeling like there’s still a chance things could work out between us gives me strength even as I pace helplessly in circles.
In what seems like no time — ten minutes maybe — Aidan comes through the door, his dark hair damp, his expression wary. He meets my eyes briefly, but before we can speak, the admin directs him into the office and closes the door behind him.
The voices behind the door return to murmurs after that, so I have no idea what’s being said, but I can hear Aidan talking fast and low. Every now and then, his voice gets louder and a word comes through — dedication, opportunity, hard work, outrageous. My anxiety is gradually edged by a warm glow.
Then the office door is flung open and Aidan stalks out. He looks even angrier than he had at the café, and seeing him angry now makes it clear to me that he was more hurt than anything when he saw me with Eric. But right now, he’s furious. He stalks past me without saying a word, or even looking at me.
The VP motions for me to come back in. I give a quick glance over my shoulder as I head back into the office. Aidan’s still in the waiting area, jaw tight, lips flat, nostrils flaring.
When the door is shut once again, Professor Carmichael says, “Miss Paulson, would you be willing to take a quiz, right now, with all of us present?”
“Yes.” My anger gives my voice an icy edge. “Yes, I would.”
The familiar clutch of nervousness grips me, but I imagine Aidan at my side, and it steadies me. The professor gives me paper, pencil, and a calculator, and then asks a question verbally.
I feel all three sets of eyes on me, and their stares, along with the extreme stress of the last twelve hours and lack of sleep, do not make it easy., But Aidan’s calm voice is there in my head, reminding me of tips and formulas.
I work through the first problem, hand it over to Professor Carmichael, and am given two more, one at a time. After I turn in the third one, he nods his head. “These are all correct,” he says, and looking me in the eye, he adds, “I apologize. I’ve never had a student improve this much in the span of half a semester.”
Relief washes over me, but my anger at the injustice isn’t completely gone. “I know students cheat,” I say. “But you can’t treat us like we’re all the same. You could have cost me my scholarship. You could have ruined my college career — my whole future.”
The academic integrity woman breaks in. “Well, there are procedures in place to ensure that doesn’t happen. But things like this have to be investigated.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, you need better procedures.” I turn to my professor. “That’s it, then?”
“Yes,” he says. “Your high score on the final is confirmed, so even with your earlier low marks, you’ll pass.”
“You’re sure, right? I need to be sure, because you took about ten years off my life this morning.”
Professor Carmichael has the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Between your performance on the quiz just now and Mr. Holt’s very forceful defense of you, I’m completely satisfied. You’ve made quite an impression on him, Miss Paulson. And on me.”
I manage — only barely — not to blush. “He was a great tutor,” I say quietly. “But I worked really, really hard, and he knows it.”
“He assured us that was the case,” the Vice Provost says. “We’re sorry to have put you through this. There will be no mark on your record, no record of this at all, in fact. Congratulations on your outstanding improvement.”
The VP stands up and opens the door for me, so I gather my things and leave. Aidan’s waiting near the outer door, still looking pissed off. I’m a little surprised that he’s still there, but I keep my expression and posture formal as I walk toward him.
They trust Aidan, and I know he had a lot to do with them deciding to believe that I didn’t cheat — quiz or no quiz — so there’s no point in making them wonder about our relationship, even a little bit.
Aidan meets my eyes briefly, but he doesn’t say anything or even change expression when I reach him. He turns though, and leaves with me.
“Can we just keep walking for a little while?” I say when we reach the bottom of the steps at the front of the building.
I can feel the tension drawn tight between us, and I hold my breath for his response, but he doesn’t make me wait long.
“Sure,” he says, not breaking his pace. We head across campus, all the words we aren’t saying lying heavily between us. The start of several sentences enter my mind, and I reject all of them. I’m not ready to speak, and I have no idea what to say anyway.
I’m lost in my thoughts and it’s not until we leave campus and hit a residential street that I realize we’re walking to Aidan’s house.
Chapter 31
Amber
Aidan doesn’t speak until we’re about to walk up his front steps. “What happened in there?” he asks, his jaw still tight. He stops on his porch and turns to me. “They’re not going through with it, are they?”
“No. The professor gave me a quiz and they decided everything was okay after all.” I glance up at him and see the tension in his face finally release. “Was that your idea?”
“Yeah, kind of. I didn’t so much suggest it as tell them in no uncertain terms that if they thought you didn’t know the material, they should call you in and have you do some problems.”
I smile at him. “The Vice Provost said you were very forceful. I could even hear you out in the waiting room.”
Aidan sits down on top step and gestures for me to sit next to him. It’s not a wide area, but I leave a few inches between us, unsure of where things stand.
“I almost lost it,” he says. “I couldn’t believe they’d accuse you of cheating.” He runs a hand through his hair, and my eye is drawn to the dark stubble on his face. He must have rushed out without shaving this morning.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “For the tutoring, and for coming to my defense. If it hadn’t been you — if it had been someone else — I’m not sure they would have believed me.”
He jerks a shoulder angrily and shakes his head. “That’s bullshit. They need to have a better way of dealing with stuff like this.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” For the first time in several days, a small laugh surfaces.
Aidan smiles at me, warming me like the sun, but then his smile fades, and I know this is it. Either we talk things out, right now, or we’re done. Forever.
“Aidan—” I say.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For going off on you that way. You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you. I just — I saw you with that guy and it made me crazy.”
I take a deep breath. A bit of anger flares, but I don’t want to get mad again. “That seems a little unfair,” I say, “considering how you are almost always surrounded by girls.”
“That’s —” Aidan breaks off. I know he was about to say that’s different. Instead he says, “You were holding his hand.”
I twist back from him and look at him with wide eyes. “I was not!” Then I remember. “I wasn’t holding his hand. I think I patted it for a moment. That was my roommate’s best friend, and he’s in love with her and was asking me for advice. There is nothing between us — less than nothing — except for having her in common.”
Aidan’s mouth opens, but it’s a long moment before he speaks. “Oh,” he says, then another long pause. “Shit. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”
“You kind of did,” I say, my voice softening. “You didn’t give me a chance to explain.”
Aidan blows out a breath and rakes his hand through his hair again. “I’m sorry. I was just — I thought you would come to the show. You didn’t even let me know how your test went.”
A flicker of hurt passes across his face and it’s my turn to feel bad. “I was going to,” I say, “but Eric was waiting for me right after the test, and I thought it would just be a few minutes.”
He searches my face for a moment, then starts to get up. “Do you want something to drink?”
“That’d be great,” I say.
He unlocks his front door and I follow him insid
e the quiet house. I set my bag down in the entry and we go into the kitchen.
“What would you like? Coffee? Soda?”
“Just water, thanks.”
Aidan gives me a glass of water and pours himself a Coke. “Okay, I’m going to be honest, and don’t get mad, just hear me out.”
I can’t help but flinch internally at his words. I’m not sure I can handle any more drama or surprises today, but he continues before I can say anything.
“This girl came up to me after the show Thursday night, right before I saw you with Eric, and she was hitting on me.”
My stomach draws back into its familiar knot. “Well, that’s nothing unusual.” I don’t quite manage to say it in a nice, neutral tone.
Aidan lets out a little laugh that’s not at all amused. “No, but — sorry for being crude — I haven’t gone this long without sex in years, and I was —”
“Wait, what?” I interrupt. “What are you talking about?”
He turns his full attention to me then, and I see a glimmer of the sexy bad-boy Aidan appear in his eyes. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met you that night at the club.”
My jaw literally drops open for a second before I snap it closed. “You’re serious?”
“Completely serious.” His eyes grow darker, his voice deeper. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
My entire body starts to tingle, my nerves all coming to attention as his words sink in and fill me with an unexpected joy. “But you — I thought — all those girls…”
Aidan shrugs a shoulder. “The band,” he says, like that explains everything. Like he doesn’t realize he’s the most gorgeous man walking this earth.
“And you haven’t —”
He’s been leaning against the opposite counter in his narrow kitchen, and now he comes off of it and is right in front of me, almost but not quite touching me. “No, I haven’t,” he says, holding my gaze, looking deep into my eyes. “Not with any of them.”
He reaches out and collects a strand of my hair, starts winding it around his finger. He’s not touching me anywhere, just that lock of hair, yet my body starts to ignite. “You think I’m this horny with everyone?” he asks, mouth turned up into his sexy smirk.
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