Page 46 of From Square One

“It’s the middle of a Friday. Shouldn’t you be working?” I ask huffily. “And I have chores. And I’m not happy with you.”

“I have the day off. And you can do them tomorrow. And I know you’re not. So let me make it up to you.” He slides his hands down my arms, then finds the gaps between my fingers, curling his with mine when I don’t wrench away. “This wasn’t our second date, but it only comes around once a year, so I wanted to take advantage of it before it goes away again.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, scowling when he lifts my palms to kiss my knuckles. If he thinks he’s getting brownie points for being sweet, he’s mistaken. Or that’s what I’m telling myself in spite of the way my stomach flutters.

“The carnival.” He massages my joints, his smile rivaling the brightness of the sun. “I’m booked this weekend with repair projects, so today is my only free day. I was going to come later, but my mom ghosted me for lunch, so I decided to come straight here instead of going home.”

Another mention of his mom. Didn’t she just cancel lunch with him two days ago? Part of me wants to ask, but he’s already moving on, his eager expression not betraying his true thoughts.

“Anyway, I meant to ask you about this yesterday, but then I fucked up. A little.”

“Just a little,” I say coldly.

“Precisely. So?” Aaron leans in close. “May I have the honor of bothering you today, Riley Wilson?”

As if he hasn’t been bothering me since he first appeared. “No thanks,” I say. Because I’m still upset. He hasn’t even properly apologized for punching my brother. Besides…

He’s a master manipulator who knows how to get what he wants.

Logan’s former words are discomforting. I know I can come to my own conclusions with the information I have. But he’s never led me astray before, so it’s difficult for me to say he must be wrong about this one thing—that being Aaron Beckham. I guess it’s the first time I’ve seen him heavily biased toward something, and that’s reason enough not to thoughtlessly trust his claim that Aaron is a monster. Even if I once believed the same thing because I saw the effect Aaron had on him from a distance.

Regardless, my walls shouldn’t come down this quickly. I should put space between us so I can think clearly without Aaron’s smile, gentle touch, and soft lips infiltrating my logic, like yesterday.

“I’ll buy you whatever you want,” he says.

That makes me scoff. “There’s nothing I could get there that won’t make me sick.”

“They have more than food,” he points out. “They have vendors who sell pottery. Ceramics. Two of your paintings were from the fair last year. And this time, I’m going to win you a giant stuffed duck no matter how long it takes.”

His final line is so unexpected that I nearly laugh, but manage to swallow it. “You failed last time?” I ask, popping my brow.

“Do you have a giant stuffed duck in your room?” he asks bitterly.

“No.”

“Well.”

Admittedly, I’m enticed. I’ve never seen Aaron Beckham be bad at anything, so the thought of watching him lose money to a silly carnival game gives me a guilty pleasure I resist the urge to apologize for.

“I’ll also be your personal servant for a day,” he tries again.

I give him a weary look. “So you’d do anything I ask?”

“Yes!” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll be your bitch!”

“So if I said Go home, you’d go home?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

“And if I said Don’t come over unless I give you permission, you’d listen?”

He chews on his lips.

“And if I said Apologize to Logan for the black eye, you would?”

His gaze averts mine.

“Interesting that you’ve suddenly lost the ability to speak,” I say frostily.