“Yes. I emailed my response this morning. The math was correct, but since it was computer generated, I’m sure you knew that. I highlighted a couple of trends, but I wasn’t sure what to look for specifically,” I said lamely, shoving the container and a fork at his chest. “So, I give you my mom’s meatballs.”
He widened his eyes and did a comical double take. “Your mom’s meatballs? Dude, I haven’t had those in years. Does she still add that secret sauce?”
I shrugged as I popped the lid. “I don’t know, but they’re good. Try one.”
He held up his grease-stained hands and winced. “I’m gross. Fork me up a bite.”
I sliced into a meatball, speared it, and held it to his lips, unthinking. The second he leaned in and opened his mouth, I realized I’d made a tactical error. My breath hitched, my pulse skittered, and my dick swelled. This was one of those odd moments that meant nothing between friends; however, my dirty mind turned everything into foreplay without my permission. The tilt of his chin, the sexy way his tongue flicked his bottom lip before he opened wide.
Apparently, I was a hopeless case.
I tore my gaze from his mouth and swallowed hard. “Want more?”
Aiden chewed quietly, his eyes locked on mine. “In a sec. I need to process the awesomeness. I haven’t eaten anything that good in a long-ass time.”
“You’re in luck. My mom makes dinner for me a couple of times a week.”
“Are you serious?”
I nodded. “I’m the youngest, I live the closest to home, and I’m the one she worries about the most. When she heard about Willy, she freaked out and started cooking. I told my friends this morning there was a good chance she’d drop off a week’s worth of meals today. Sure enough, I came home to two bags full of casserole dishes. Food equals love in the Murphy house, and Mom loves me…thus the meatballs.”
Aiden smiled. “You’re lucky.”
I returned the gesture and stabbed the other half of the meatball for him. “I’m happy to share.”
He stepped close again, wrapping his hand around mine before taking the bite. And this time, he didn’t back away. It might have been wishful thinking or a figment of my impressive imagination, but I could have sworn some kind of sexual heat sizzled between us.
“So good,” he hummed.
“Yes.”
Oh, wow. I think I actually whimpered. I couldn’t help it. He sounded so fucking sexy.
This was Aiden we were talking about, though. Aiden. The same guy who drank liters of Coca-Cola at a time with my brothers to see who could belch the loudest and longest. The same guy who’d witnessed my epic meltdown when our family dog ate part of my comic book collection. Sure, I’d been ten at the time and totally within my rights to freak out, but—
“Your mom’s the best cook ever.”
Screech…
“Uh…right.” I popped a meatball into my mouth and pushed the container toward him. “You can have the rest. I can get you another fork if you want or you can go inside to wash up or…whatever you want.”
Aiden cocked his head. “You okay, G?”
“Uh…yes. Yes, of course.”
He stared at my mouth for a hot second, then perched on the top stoop and patted the space beside him. “Come here.”
Those last two words delivered in his deep timbre were a command. Not a request.
I melted like butter on a hot skillet and flopped down beside him, nearly choking myself on my cape. “So, um…”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I need dating advice,” I blurted, quickly adding. “Not for me.”
“For your boss. You caved, eh?”
“Sort of.” I coughed as I adjusted the fabric. “I think this is what you sports types call a no-harm, no-foul situation. I’m just a little out—no, I’m a lot out of practice. My friend suggested that it might be a nice tie-in to a project we’ve been talking about for a year.”
“What kind of project?” he asked around a meatball bite.
I gave him a brief synopsis of the summer project idea my friends and I had to get out of our comfort zones and spread our wings. “The original concept of the Script Club was to write about our experiences and maybe publish them in a student journal, but none of us has had much time. We’ll be graduating soon. I feel like the window for fun is closing fast.”
Aiden chomped thoughtfully. “The Script Club?”
I grimaced. “Well, yeah. That name came later.”
“You really are a little weirdo, aren’t you?”
The twinkle in his eyes and his affectionate tone paired with the unlikely term of endearment were exactly what I needed to pull myself from my infatuation-induced awkwardness.
I smacked his biceps playfully, then leaned against his side, staring up at the crescent moon in the twilight sky. “Maybe a little.”
Aiden chuckled. “I like that about you. I like your idea too. It’s a good one. I should get in on that and collect a few new experiences before I quit the garage and move on to my next venture.”