“’Cause I’m stupid.”
“No,” she rushed to say. “Because you’re disinterested in that sort of thing.”
“Smart things?”
“Things that require you to apply yourself.”
“So I’m dumb and lazy.”
“Aidan,” she said with a sigh, turning to him as they reached the vending machine alcove at the end of the hall. “You know you don’t reach for things. It has nothing to do with lack of ability or intelligence. You just…” She trailed off with a shrug as his eyes flicked up to hers, more wounded than she’d expected. “I’ve known you for a while now. And I’ve never known you to take life all that seriously.”
“Hmph.”
“The first time you ever spoke to me, you were on your way to detention. You’re a bad boy, Aidan, you know you are.” She grinned. “And you always seemed to enjoy the hell out of it.”
He glanced away from her, but not before she saw the fast glimmer of hurt in his dark eyes.
“Aidan.” She laid a hand on his forearm, where it was crossed over his chest. The scars were shiny and smooth, not at all what she’d expected. “Why did you come see me today?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment. A student shoved between them, breaking their contact; his backpack strap swung around and slapped at the side of Sam’s head.
“Hey.” Aidan gave the kid a rough shove, snarling. “Say ‘excuse me’ to a lady, fucktard.”
Her Prince Charming. She rolled her eyes.
The kid turned, started to argue, got a good look at Aidan and thought better of it. “’Scuse me,” he mumbled, ducking back out of the alcove.
“Damn kids,” Aidan muttered.
“Aidan.”
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you come see me?” she repeated, tone gentle, coaxing.
Their roles were switched, suddenly: her staring, him avoiding eye contact, his gaze skipping across the glowing fronts of the machines. “I…I, ah, had a shitty morning.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And the last time I felt like shit,” he continued, “I saw you, and I felt better.” His eyes came to her finally, his smile sideways and rueful. “I guess I just hoped you’d make me feel better again.”
And here she’d been lecturing him…
The surge of warm sympathy in her chest was dangerous. Aidan was old enough to act his age. She would do him no favors by coddling him.
But she said, “Oh, Aidan…”
He took a deep breath and pasted one of his patented ladykiller smiles to his face. “Not that I don’t deserve a good ass-chewing.”
“You do, but I’d hardly call what I said ‘chewing.’”
His smile turned deadly. “You wanna try harder?”
“No,” she said, face heating.
“Aw, come on. You might be really good at it.” He waggled his eyebrows and her cheeks caught fire.
“Is there anything you can’t turn into some kind of innuendo?” she asked with an embarrassed laugh.
