Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I put my finger in the air and pretend to go through a mental Rolodex of all my acquaintances, coming up short when I reach the Ks.
He doesn’t buy it.
“Yeah. Kelly. She called and left me a message, said she came by today and you let her in. She also said she thinks I should give her another chance and you agree.”
My mouth opens and closes like a little fish in a little tank.
I’ve been found out.
There’s no way I’m going to get out of this now, especially when he walks into his room and finds his pillow gone.
“She seemed nice,” I plead.
Aiden drags his hand through his black hair. Then he tugs at the roots as if trying to refrain from strangling me. When he lets go, his short hair stays up, all disheveled.
“I told you not to let them in anymore.”
I push up to sit on my knees on the bed. “I can’t help it! I feel bad for them!”
“You shouldn’t!”
Spoken like a true heartbreaker.
“They’re like lost puppies searching for a good home—I can’t turn them away!”
He tilts his head, his anger dissolving only slightly as he says my name.
“Maddie.”
God, I love the way it sounds coming from his lips, but I force myself to focus.
“I’m serious!” I say, flinging my arms into the air for emphasis. “You don’t know what it’s like having them show up on our doorstep all sad and desperate.”
He’s walking away now, stomping down the hall. Soon, he’ll get to his bedroom and find an empty spot where his pillow should be.
“I made macaroni!” I shout out, hoping to distract him for a minute longer.
It doesn’t work.
There’s a pause—his door creaks open—then, “Where’s my goddamn pillow?!”
Okay, I get it. Maybe the pillow was too far. The t-shirt was understandable. The pillow is a little psychotic. Is she going to sleep with it every night? I mean, I understand the urge. It probably smells like him. I’d want an Aiden pillow of my own if I were one of his exes. Which I’m not. I’m Maddie. His friend. Roomie.
Stomp stomp stomp. He really is a big guy, and when he gets frustrated like he is now, he enjoys putting his full weight into his walk.
He barges back into my room and yanks the pillow out from under my butt so I topple over onto my side. Then, without a word, he tucks it up under his arm and leaves me.
“That’s my favorite one!” I shout back at him.
It’s soft, but not too squishy.
“Tough,” he barks back.
Okay, I guess I’ve really pissed him off and he wants me to know it.
I give him a minute to calm down then I creep out of my room on tiptoes, scared he’ll be lurking around the corner. I find him in the kitchen with the macaroni pot in his hand, using the wooden spoon to ladle bites into his mouth. My pillow is still secured under his arm. He’s smart, not letting it out of his sight. Obviously, my plan was to steal it back right away.
Instead, I’ll have to negotiate. “Can I propose a barter? That pillow for one of my others? I have a nice firm one that has your name written all over it.”
“No.”
Well then.
I grab a spoon out of our utensil drawer and head over to snag a bite of pasta for myself. I didn’t get enough earlier.
He moves the pot out of my reach before I can get another scoop. Clearly, he still wants to punish me.
I poke him in the ribs with my spoon and he relents, holding the pot low enough for me to get some.
“So you don’t think you’ll get back together with her?” I ask, going for an extra cheesy bite.
“Absolutely not. We broke up months ago. I haven’t thought about her since.”
Ouch.
“She seemed pretty hung up on you.”
He hums in disinterest.
I peer up at him from beneath my lashes, wondering. Always wondering. Aiden is such a rare breed, the sort of man who inspires women to show up on his doorstep months later, the sort of dreamboat that makes you squint when you see him head-on…but he’s not pretty. That’s important to clarify. He has a square jaw, thick dark brows and a crooked smile.
He meets my stare, his mossy green eyes studying me.
“Still mad?” I venture, tilting my mouth in an attempt at a half-smile.
“Maybe,” he says, his gaze flitting to my smile for a second before he turns his attention back to his dinner.
I’ll win him over again soon enough. He never stays mad at me for long. It’s one of my superpowers: taming the beast.
I first met Aiden a little over two years ago at my sister’s wedding rehearsal. He was late to arrive. The rest of the wedding party and I were standing on our marks at the front of the church, listening to the officiant walk us through the customary spiel. I was admittedly spaced out—taking in a sculpture of Jesus that depicted him with some seriously rock-hard abs—when the church doors opened. With the sunset at his back, in walked Aiden, instantly stealing the hearts of every woman in that room.