Page 47 of Check You Out

“What makes you think that?” Xander asks.

I tell him and Nicole about our argument. After I finish, Xander chuckles. “You know he thinks you’re pissed off at him?”

My mouth drops open.

He leans over the counter, staring daggers into me with his dark brown eyes. “When are you going to ask Aidan out? He likes you, and I’m fucking tired of the two of you being all moony eyes at each other. It’s obvious to everyone, so do us all a favor. Ask. Him. Out.”

I grab a pen from my jar and click the cap several times. “I doubt he likes me.”

One of Xander’s eyebrows shoots up. “Oh no, he likes you. He doesn’t stop talking about you.”

“He doesn’t?” My gaze darts back and forth between them as their heads bob. “If he likes me, then why hasn’t he asked me out?”

He groans and tosses his arms in the air. “Because he’s just as much of an idiot as you. So ask him out before I lock you in a room and force you to talk to each other. I told Aidan the same thing.”

“This is really for your own good, Charlotte. As your best friend, I urge you to put us out of our misery and ask him out.” Nicole reaches into her purse and holds out a paper bag to Xander. “Thank you, Lurch. I appreciate your assistance in this delicate matter. Here’s a cinnamon bear claw as thanks.”

He snatches it from her outstretched hand and grins. “Fuck, yes.” He opens the bag and takes a large bite out of the gigantic pastry. Between bites he says, “Thanks. Can I go now?”

We wave him off, and he shoulders out of the bookstore, letting the door slam behind him. I kick Nicole out a few minutes later, telling her that I need to finish my inventory. As she leaves, she calls over her shoulder, “Ask him out, Charlotte!”

Now I’m alone in the soft silence of the bookstore. Except my mind is rattling with a thousand different thoughts, all centered around one thing.

How the fuck am I going to ask Aidan Talbot out?

20

Aidan

29 Days until the Council Meeting

Rain drops splatter against my windshield as I pull up into the alley behind the bookstore. I’m debating whether I should go up to Charlotte’s door, when suddenly she opens the car door and slides into the passenger seat. Anxiety churns in my stomach.

I haven’t seen or communicated with Charlotte since last Thursday when she sent an apology text for our argument on Wednesday night. Other than the initial guilt I felt that evening, I haven’t had much time to reflect on what happened.

I walked into school the next morning to learn that I was going to be observed the following day. Cue a very stressed Aidan, prepping overly detailed lesson plans and praying that my students weren’t going to be dicks in front of admin. By the time I finally got home, I dissociated by playing Stardew Valley for an unhealthy amount of time.

When I emerged from the Skull Caverns last night, bloodied and eyes twitching, guilt started to overwhelm me. I’m questioning every word I said during that exchange.

I’m feeling pretty harmed. What happened to your promise?

“It is wet out there,” Charlotte remarks as she adjusts her Sunflower Books sweatshirt. “Ooh, is one of those for me?” She points a finger at the Triple C cups in the center console. An olive branch.

“Yeah,” I reply. “They’re both London Fogs.”

She picks up the one closest to her and breathes in the scent deeply before taking a strong pull. “Oh my god, I love you. I needed this.”

I raise an eyebrow and stutter out, “Gr–gr–great. I got some scones too. Cheddar bacon.” I grab a paper bag from the back seat and hold it to her.

She doesn’t actually love me. She just said that because I did something for her.

She takes the bag and digs in. “You’re amazing!” She bites into the cheddar bacon scone and lets out a low moan that sends blood coursing through me. She swallows and continues, “So I figured we’d switch out who puts the signs out, so that one of us doesn’t have to get wet. How does that sound?”

I put the car in drive and we move off. “Sounds good.” She nods and buckles in. We drive for a few moments, the only sounds being the rain and the road noise since I turned down my music. Butterflies dance in my stomach. She’s mad at me. I know she’s mad at me.

Tilting her head, Charlotte peers at the entertainment center screen. “The Offspring?” She turns in her seat to face me, her damp ponytail falling to the side. “You like The Offspring?”

I lift one shoulder. “I do. Do you like them?”