Page 55 of Check You Out

With a shake of my head at my lack of planning, I thump down my stairs and into the alley behind the bookstore. Cinnamon envelops me as I collide straight into a warm, solid body. My grip loosens on my phone, and I watch it in slow motion as it spins in the air before clattering onto the pavement.

“Shit!” I cry, my line-of-sight landing on my phone as it rests on the pavement, screen side down.

The other person reaches down, and an arm with rolled up sleeves and a veined forearm grabs it. I squeeze my eyes shut and my heart roars in my ears. “Is it broken?”

“Nope,” he says gently. His voice sounds far-off and yet close.

Aidan?

I open my eyes, and there he is, standing there in front of me, holding my phone. He’s wearing a wrinkled robin’s egg blue linen shirt with rolled up sleeves and olive-green shorts. Damn, he looks good. I’m suddenly self-conscious in my laundry chair T-shirt and wrinkled jean shorts. Clearly my plan to be casual has backfired. His wavy dark hair is slightly rumbled, swooshed over to one side. His glasses are slightly askew and a little farther down his nose than normal. His gaze drops to my mouth long enough for me to notice, but then immediately shoots back up to my eyes. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” I push a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m so sorry I’m late. It’s just this morning was… Well, it was a morning. Actually, I’m kind of glad that I ran into you. Now, I don’t feel so bad.” When he doesn’t say anything, I add in, “But it wasn’t my fault. My employee had car trouble and came in a full two hours late. Not her fault, but I had to open the store on top of doing admin work. Then, we were swarmed with my entire Tuesday book club coming in for a shopping spree.”

His gaze drops to our feet, and he pushes his glasses up his nose. He blushes and says with a light chuckle, “No worries. I’m late too. Lloyd spent forever finding the perfect place to pee on our walk.” He tips his head back, laughing. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Oh, you’re funny.” I breathe out, my chest heaving as I gulp for air. “We do. Next time, I will break my phone, and I will be very sad, as well as broke because these things are fucking expensive.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Aidan says with a coy smile.

I cross my arms. “Go ahead.”

“Put your phone in your pocket when you walk.”

I scoff. “Blasphemy! I can’t text and walk at the same time.”

“Wasn’t there a PSA about the dangers of texting and walking?” He hands me the phone.

“That’s texting and driving. I’ll just hold onto it tighter.”

He smiles. “As you wish.”

A corner of my mouth upturns and I loop my hand into the crook of his elbow, pulling him toward Triple C. “Come on. You hungry? I didn’t get breakfast.”

Aidan stops dead, spinning me around due to the lack of movement, and I face his aghast face. “What? You didn’t have breakfast?” He checks his watch. “It’s after eleven? I usually have breakfast and lunch by now.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Are you one of those people that gets up at four a.m.?”

“Fuck no. I get up at five thirty.”

“Ew, gross! Why?”

“Because someone decided that teenagers should get up at the crack of dawn to go to school.” He studies me for a few seconds before saying, “Please tell me you ate something.”

I chew on my lower lip. “Well, I ate an apple. It’s part of a balanced breakfast.”

He groans. “That’s not a balanced breakfast.”

“I said part of. I ran out of cereal and milk, and I was too busy this morning. I also don’t have orange juice.” I chuckle, and pull him forward again toward Triple C. My mind travels back to a few weeks ago when we first walked this path. “You know, does this really count as our first date?” I ask. “We’ve technically already had coffee together.”

“Tea,” Aidan corrects me. “We had London Fog lattes.” His gaze again drops down to my mouth.

Is there something in my teeth?

“Yes. We had tea together, and we also had dinner. So, could this actually count as our third date?”

“Or maybe our fourth. Don’t forget you invited me over for tea,” he says with a smile.

“Except we were interrupted.” I cringe, remembering my paltry act of seduction. “But we weren’t technically dating then. We were just friends. Or colleagues? Teammates? People who know each other? If books are as addictive as drugs, maybe I’m your drug dealer?”