People stream by while I debate the risks of going backstage to find him. Lots of the women going past have false eyelashes and tight, low-cut tank tops; they’re probably the ones who were crushing the stage and screaming for Aidan.
Which of them will he be taking home tonight instead of me? Not that I want to go home with him. At all.
Eric and I exchange glances. He has the long-suffering look of the permanent sidekick. I almost start to ask him why he puts up with it, but we don’t really know each other that well. “How are your classes?” I say instead.
“Fine,” he says in an offhand way that tells me he’ll probably be coasting to a 4.0. I’m still waffling about whether to go find Aidan, but just as I’m about to break away from Eric, Megan reappears. “The line was ridiculous!” she says. “I can wait. Let’s go.”
Eric follows her and after one more look around, I go along. Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t see Aidan. I’m a strong woman, but maybe I shouldn’t put that strength to the test by getting so close to him again. Why play with fire?
We make our way outside only to bump into another crowd on the sidewalk. A cluster of fans are gathered around the bar’s back exit and as we approach, I see Aidan’s dark head. My breath catches in my chest. I wasn’t expecting to see him again, and I’m surprised how just the distant sight of him causes a physical reaction.
“I think they’re signing autographs,” Megan says. “Wanna go over?”
Eric, bless him, speaks up. “No, Megan, let’s go. I have an early practice tomorrow.”
I give him a smile, both because I’m grateful that he’s saving me from thinking up an excuse not to see Aidan, and because I’m proud of him for asserting himself for a change.
Megan gives a little huff, but she continues walking. “Maybe next time, Amber,” she says.
“Yeah, next time,” I reply. There will definitely not be a next time. Even if I have to take extra courses or find a second job, I will make sure I’m busy every weekend night for the rest of the year.
Since I won’t be coming here again, I allow myself one more backward glance. It’s a mistake. Aidan’s grinning, that sexy, smirking grin he’d turned on me earlier. But now he’s aiming it at the petite blonde in front of him, and he’s wielding a Sharpie. The blonde pulls down her top, and Aidan scrawls his name across her bare breast.
Chapter 7
Amber
As Megan reminds me, college is about experiencing new things, and yay me!, I’m about to experience being on the receiving end of tutoring. In high school, I act
ually helped other students when they had trouble. And though science was never my strong suit, I got along fairly well by memorizing facts and studying hard.
I hoped that my required first year science courses would cover more or less the same ground as my high school classes; after all, how hard could something with “101” in its title be? Ha! More like Chemistry 1001, it feels like.
I met with my professor last week, but it was both frustrating and fruitless. He’s the type who understands something so well, so intuitively, that he can’t really grasp how anyone else can fail to understand it.
So here I am, crawling into the tutoring center, with the hope that someone can help me understand bonds and reactions before I flunk out.
I fill out a brief form at the front desk and am escorted to a small room where I’m told my tutor will join me shortly. I’m really uncomfortable about needing a tutor, and wonder what will happen if I can’t master chemistry even with this extra help.
Aside from Saturday night, I tried to study all weekend, in between keeping up with my campus job and my other classwork, but I just couldn’t get it to click. Of course, Saturday night’s events did not help my ability to focus. While I was staring at chemical formulas, images of Aidan would push their way into my head, flooding me with heat.
Then I’d picture him signing his autograph on a fan’s chest, and the heat would turn to anger, even though I know I don’t have the right to be angry with him. He was just doing his thing, and it’s my fault for getting caught up in it and thinking that his brief attention meant anything beyond sex.
Aidan is a player and a manwhore. Aidan is definitely not for me. Aidan is… standing in the doorway?
I look up from my phone, expecting to see the tutor I’ve been assigned, and instead I see him. What the hell? And this time he’s not just in my mind, he’s actually here, though he looks different than Saturday night.
He’s still in jeans, but they’re neater and newer looking, and a snug Rolling Stones t-shirt stretches across his chest, covering those gorgeous pecs. His hair has the same rolled-out-of-bed quality to it, but his usually hypnotic eyes show the same surprise that I’m feeling.
“Amber? I saw your name on the sheet, but never thought…” He trails off. Confusion is a very strange look on him. His expression is soft; his posture is different — I have a weird sense of unreality, as if either the bar or now has to be a dream.
“What are you doing here?” I pull my books toward me, instinctively putting a barrier between the two of us.
He waves the paper he’s holding at me. “Apparently I’m your tutor.” While my jaw is no doubt dropping to the table, his look of surprise quickly shifts to the predatory expression I saw on Saturday.
Aidan leans on the doorframe and raises an eyebrow. “I guess you’d like me to teach you some things?”
Wow, how did he manage to make those simple words sound so naughty? How does he manage to look so damn good? How on earth is it possible that he’s my tutor?
“Or are you here to apologize for running out on me Saturday night?” he says.
I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. “Technically, you ran out on me first.” I’m surprised by the brief flicker of embarrassment that crosses his face.
“You said you’d wait for me.”