A new message from him pops up at lunch on Tuesday and I shield my phone from the friends I'm sitting with, expecting to see something private and naughty, along the lines of our last conversation, but instead he writes: Hey, what's up? How's your day going?
I'm surprised to experience the tiniest twinge of disappointment at this normal message. My hormones were on alert as soon as his name appeared.
But maybe it’s for the best. I don't think I could handle sexting with Aidan in public. And I do feel a warm glow to know he's thinking of me and checking in. It's almost like I'm his girlfriend, and it feels good even though I know it's only an illusion. He probably keeps in touch with a lot of women, or at least his latest conquests.
I say: I'm good. How's your day?
Good. Did you sleep well?
I slept very well, and I blush a little at the memory of why.
Yeah. You?
Could’ve been better.
Frustrating ... homework? I can’t believe I’m being so brazen.
Very frustrating.
I try not to squirm in front of my friends. I'll see you tomorrow?
Yeah, he says. So I can help you with your … frustrations.
And there I go — blushing again.
See you then.
Wednesday afternoon, I meet Aidan at BFOC. When I arrive, he's already there, leaning against a pillar in a casual pose that does funny things to my stomach.
It's still hard for me to merge the two sides of him — sexy rocker and serious academic. I like them both — a lot — though the rocker side unnerves me a little.
Today he's wearing tight jeans and a black t-shirt, looking a little like both the singer and the student. The shirt stretches tightly across his chest and hangs smoothly over his flat abs.
His hair is disheveled in a way that makes me want to smooth it, then mess it up again.
When he sees me, he smiles and I try to hold back from smiling too much in return. I don't want to look overeager, though I actually want to run to him.
“Hey, how’re you?” Aidan’s eyes travel over my body as I approach but his expression is friendly, without the wicked gleam I’ve almost come to expect.
“Good,” I say in what I hope is a casual voice. “Been waiting long?”
“Nope. Want a coffee before we head over? We only have the basics at my house.”
“Sure.”
We head inside and order espresso drinks at the counter. Aidan smoothly insists on paying, though I protest, “It should be my treat. You're the one helping me.”
But he’s not having it. “It's my pleasure,” he says, sounding all suave. I have the private thought that last time we met, it was my pleasure.
Is Aidan trying to hint that he should be the one receiving pleasure today? He’s usually not that subtle, though, and his tone and expression seem innocent and friendly.
We take the drinks to go and head across campus toward his house. I can't help but notice that nearly every girl we pass turns her head to look at Aidan, some of them only briefly, others not so much.
I feel a little glow of happiness that I'm the one with him, and again enjoy the fantasy of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, but I quickly shake the thought from my head.
“I didn't have a chance to ask you the other day. Is chemistry your major?”
“No, industrial design. I like to build things. I like to work with my hands.”
I look for Aidan's wolfish expression — I already have some idea of just how well he works with his hands — but again see no sign of it. It throws me off balance, the way he seems to switch the player vibe off at will. Maybe this will purely be a study session. That's what I wanted, right?
“So what are your career plans? What about Throwback?”
“Yeah, I don't know. Some of the other guys have big dreams for it, but I'm not sure I want that. It’s not a stable plan for the future.”
Stable? He sounds like me all of a sudden. “You're probably right. But you guys are really good. You seem to love it.”
“It's fun on stage, but it's some of the off-stage stuff that I'm not crazy about. “
I wonder what he's referring to — troubles with other band members, practices, surely not the groupies? — but before I can ask, he continues.
“I plan to have my own business. Then I can be in charge. What about you? Biochemist? Chemical engineer? Nuclear scientist?”
“You must be extremely confident in your tutoring abilities.”
Aidan gives me a full smile that warms me from head to toe. “Sure, I think I can have you inventing new compounds in a week or two.”
We keep walking, the grass soft under our feet. “So what else are you taking besides chemistry?”
“I’m a double major — finance and marketing,” I explain, “so I’ve got intro to accounting, macroeconomics, oral communications, and sociology. I want to get my general studies out of the way as fast as I can.”
“I did the same,” Aidan says. “Some of those GE classes were really good, but I was ready to get on to what I came for.”
It’s a mild day, the sunlight just enough to make me comfortably warm, with a slight breeze to take the edge off. “I’m a little surprised you’re not a music major,” I say.
Aidan lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Like I said, I love singing, writing songs, jamming with the guys … but being in a band is more than that. You spend a lot of time dealing with other people’s expectations.”
I can’t help but think of groupies again, but Aidan’s not sounding at all like a player today. Have I sold him short with the sexy manwhore label? Scratch that; the sexy part definitely applies. But he does seem to have a serious side I hadn’t given him credit for.
We’re most of the way across campus now, and he’s been getting nonstop attention from the girls we pass. Maybe a lot of them recognize him from Throwback, but I have no doubt that he draws attention for his looks alone. More than a few of them send me less-than-friendly glances, too.
Before we’re off campus, a very bouncy blonde suddenly blocks Aidan’s path. “Hey, Aidan,” she trills, looking at him like he’s a hot fudge sundae and she’s about to dig in.
“Hey,” he says. “How are you?”
“I’m great! I saw your show last week. You were so good.” She sticks out her sizeable chest and plays with her hair while pretending she can’t even see me.
“That’s great. Thanks,” Aidan says, giving her a friendly smile.
“I’ll be at your show this weekend. Maybe I’ll see you after?”
“Sounds good. Maybe I’ll see you there.” Aidan gives her a wave and we start walking again.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s been with her. Maybe he picked her up at one of his shows like he did me.
He doesn’t mention the girl or say anything about all the attention he receives. He’s probably so used it that he doesn’t even consider the impact it might have on me.
Only one block later, before I can even get the blonde girl out of my head, a beautiful dark-haired girl, who looks a million times cooler than I have ever felt in my life, approaches us, heading toward campus. She slows her pace as she gets closer and focuses intently on Aidan, pulling her attention away only briefly to give me an assessing look.
I’m in jeans and a t-shirt, while she looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine with just the right clothes and perfectly styled hair. I feel like I literally shrink in her presence.
When we reach her, she greets Aidan with a hug before shooting another glance in my direction. “Who’s this?” she asks him.
“This is Amber. Amber, Sasha.” Aidan’s tone is friendly and neutral, and gives me no clue about who Sasha is to him.
Sasha’s hand has found its way to Aidan’s arm. She gives me the briefest of nods before turning all of her attention on him. “Do you know when we’re supposed to get our cap-and-gown shipments in? My parents want me to have a senior portrait taken.”
“I’m sure they’ll be here the day after we’re supposed to walk,” Aidan says.
She laughs and play-punches him in the arm. “No, really.”
“I think they said next week. Or maybe it was later this week. Hang on.” Aidan pulls out his phone, both of them acting like I’m not even there, and looks it up. “Yeah, they’ll be here by Friday.”
“Great. Thanks.” She touches his arm again, and it feels like she’s claiming him. “See you later.” She glances at me one more time as she walks away.
We continue on our way and after a few steps, Aidan says, “So, finance and marketing — that sounds like a good combination.”
With no further mention of Sasha, he just picks up our conversation where we left off, but I’m distracted. I know I have no claim to him, but I find myself hoping that he’ll tell me the attention from these women doesn’t mean anything. Though I’m not sure I’d believe him anyway.
This little stroll across campus has forcefully reminded me that he’s the guy every girl wants — and that the reverse is definitely not true. I have never been the girl every guy wants.
Instead, I’ve always been the hardworking, slightly nerdy girl the popular guys ignore. I’m the virgin who puts schoolwork before activities that other girls consider fun. So whatever flirtation’s been going on with Aidan, I shouldn’t forget that we’re not equals in it. He can have anyone he wants — why the hell would he want me?
16
Amber
Aidan’s house is in the middle of a quiet residential street. It’s single story with a neatly trimmed lawn; a very nice but average house. What had I been expecting? The Playboy mansion where he would entertain his groupies?
As we enter I’m struck by how spare the furnishings are. The walls are mostly bare; there are no plants or pictures around.
“Just you and your dad live here?” I ask.
“Yeah, my parents are divorced. My mom lives on the other side of the country.”
There’s an edge to his voice, and I decide it’s probably best not to ask more about the subject.
Aidan leads me past the living room and into a small dining room area, where we settle in to study. I’m feeling a pull between us, a not unpleasant feeling of sexual tension, now that we’re alone in close quarters.
We're sitting close together, the house is quiet ... I imagine him kissing me and curse myself for how much I'm wanting that to happen right now.
As much as I've tried to listen to the sensible part of my brain, I've been drawn in, and as I sneak glances at Aidan's strong, tattooed forearm resting close to mine, I realize I couldn't care less about my chemistry grade right now.
For better or worse, though, he is all business.
"Did you have class yet?" he asks, his chocolate brown eyes fixed on me.
God, why does he have to be so good looking?
"No, it's tomorrow evening."
"All right. Where did we leave off?"
We left off with you pushing me up against the wall, I think, but I dutifully find our place.
“Okay, let me see you balance this one,” Aidan says, pointing to an equation with oxygen, hydrogen, and I don’t know what else in it.
I remember to start by looking for the unbalanced elements first, and I make the needed adjustments, but then I get stuck. I might actually be able to do this one if I was alone, but I keep being distracted by how close Aidan is sitting.
“What’s next?” he asks. “The hydrogen, right?” He’s patient as I eventually manage to finish the problem and move on to the next one.
“Don’t forget the physical states,” he prompts.
I’m trying very hard to forget his physical state — hot — and my physical state — bothered, but I’m finding it impossible. He’s referring to solids and gases though, so I go back and make the required notations.
I make a few errors and Aidan puts his hand on mine, nearly making me jump from the way his touch lights up my nerve endings.
"Relax, Amber. You'll get it." He thinks it's the subject matter that has me tense, and I'm happy to let him believe that. I was the one who said our study sessions needed to be all business, after all.
He tilts his head adorably and smiles at me.
"Hey, did you hear the one about a proton and a neutron walking down the street?"
I shake my head.
"The proton says, 'Wait, I dropped an electron. Help me look for it.' The neutron says 'Are you sure?' and the proton replies…” Aidan pauses for effect before continuing, “'I'm positive.'"
I groan and roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as I add corny joke telling to the growing list of Aidan’s unexpectedly adorable qualities. The more I learn about him, the more I like him. It makes me wonder: am I kidding myself to think he’s more than a player, or is it the wary side of me that’s wrong about him?
The lame joke serves its purpose, though. It cuts the tension and clears my head, and I finally manage to focus on what he's trying to teach me.
Aidan reviews some of the things we went over on Monday and builds from there. He gives me new tips and has me work through several problems. The sheer amount of material I have to memorize is still daunting, but with his help it’s starting to come together. I actually manage to balance several equations on my own.
“See, I told you you’d get it. That’s perfect,” Aidan says, smiling in a way that is probably supposed to be motivational but is very distracting. “Now I think I should test you on the section on measurements and ions.”
“Do you have to?” I ask, not feeling very confident that I’m going to get the answers.
“Come on. It’ll help me understand where you might need additional focus.”
I knuckle down and try to answer all the questions as best I can. When he’s marked my work, Aidan lays down his pen.
Just that one little act, and the way his expression changes, have me heating up faster than a match that’s just been struck. And then he says, “It’s time for some well-earned R&R.”
My heart starts working overtime. Does he want to take me to his bedroom? Should I go if he does?
I want him — I can’t help wanting him — but I don’t know if I’m ready for everything he may have in mind.
Still seated next to me, Aidan brushes my hair aside and pulls me toward him as he leans in. He doesn’t kiss me; instead he rests his forehead against mine and gently rubs my neck.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice soft and sexy and low.
“Hmmmm,” is the reply I manage. I’m feeling amazing now that he’s touching me again.
“How are you feeling about your chemistry?”
Oh that. “Good,” I say, thrilling to the heat of his skin against mine, distracted by how close his mouth is. “You’re a really good teacher.”
Aidan lifts my face to his and softly brushes his lips to mine. His touch is so tender and gentle that it catches me off guard. I’ve been fighting lust all afternoon, but his movements seem filled with care, as if I’m delicate, or as if he’s holding back.
When he kisses me again, I claim his lips and increase the intensity; I can’t help myself. I’m relieved when he matches me and starts to kiss me longer and deeper.
He pulls me to him and I find myself on his lap, straddling him as we tangle together, mouth and hands moving more hungrily. His body is all strong angles under mine and I take the opportunity to explore the muscles in his back and run my hands through his soft, messy hair while we kiss.
Aidan runs his hands along my sides, his thumbs reaching up just under my breasts before sliding back down to my waist. He trails a finger on my bare skin above the waistband of my jeans as he says, “Would you like to know what else I’m good at?”
My breathing is verging on ragged as I reply. “Debate team? Tax law?” As I tease him with my guesses, he teases my skin with his fingers, digging in gently to tickle my side. I squirm in his lap and it only serves to make me hotter for him. “Oh, I know, marching band.” I t
wist away from his grasp, only to end up closer and more entangled with him.
“Funny girl,” he says, pulling me into his intensely dark gaze. “Would you like me to show you?” His hand comes to rest on the snap of my jeans, and I draw in a deep breath, going lightheaded as I stare back at him.
Shouldn’t my sensible side, the part that tries to keep me from being hurt by making impulsive decisions, make at least a token appearance in a moment like this? But it’s nowhere to be found. Yes, yes, yes, screams the rest of me, including every part of my body.
Aidan holds my gaze and waits for the small nod I give. Then his eyes flash and his smile turns wicked. My cheeks flush with heat as I look down and watch him open the snap with a slow, deliberate movement.
I’m still holding my breath and time seems to stand still as he draws down my zipper.
“Right here?” I manage to say. “What about your dad?”
“He won’t be home until later.”
Ohmygod, are we going to have sex in Aidan’s dining room? This is not how I’d imagined things going, but, as Megan said, surely Aidan knows what he’s doing.
He lifts me off his lap and to a standing position where he finishes lowering my zipper. Then his warm hands circle the bare skin of my hips as he reaches inside my clothing and starts to push my underwear and pants down together, still moving at his unhurried pace.
As his hands move lower, he kicks the chair out of his way and kneels before me, his face just inches from my now exposed lower half. I bite my lip, try to still my breathing, and fight feelings of self-consciousness at all that he’s about to see and do.
He’s not focused on my pussy though; he’s still lowering my pants as he slowly kisses a path down along my inner thighs and to my calves. The sensations are all so new; his hot mouth is kissing me in places I’ve never been kissed. And though they’re not my most intimate places, sparks are flying from his every touch, sending impulses throughout my body, especially to the area quickly growing wetter between my legs.
SPARKED: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance (With bonus book, PERFECT) Page 5