Aiden snorts as he stops at a red light and watches a group of students, all better dressed than I am for the weather, walk in front of us to get to one of the popular bars. “I would hardly call you the villain.”
I look out the window again. “Well, you can’t really say that now considering we haven’t seen each other in years.”
The wait in the cab of his truck is tense as we sit at the light. He mumbles something when it turns green, turning off the main drag. “Are you going to hold that over me?”
Wanting nothing more than to tell him yes, I force myself to shake my head. What good does holding onto past grudges do? He hurt me, but he was young. We both were. There was a lot we couldn’t control, and I couldn’t hold his choice against him. “No.”
“Then what’s your deal?”
The laugh that escapes me is cold. “My deal,” I repeat dryly, more to myself than not. Where do I even begin? “I have a lot of deals, but none of them that I expect you to understand. Like I said, I’m not holding anything against you for staying behind. It was smarter that you did.”
Sighing, I turn to him, noting his tight one-hand grip on the steering wheel twist while the other hand rests in a fist on his thick thigh covered in dark denim. “I’m a bitch. That’s really the only thing you need to know about me if you haven’t figured it out already. I do what I need to do in order to survive and get what I want.”
His jaw ticks like that somehow irritates him, but the truth isn’t meant to be pretty. “And what is it that you want?”
What everybody does. “To succeed.”
The noise rising from his throat makes me narrow my eyes at him, but I remain silent. If he wants to doubt me, then so be it. Like I already surmised, he knows nothing about who I am now. The little girl who’d sneak in his window and cower in his closet doesn’t exist anymore.
Eventually, I ask, “Where are we going?”
Wherever our destination is, it’s outside of town. There isn’t much out there besides some spaced out residences, cow pastures, and a few farms that produce the crops for the Saturday farmer’s market Main Street has every week as long as the weather is decent.
“My place.”
My muscles lock. “Wait—”
“Relax, Chaos,” he grumbles, and I do little to stop the scowl over the name from forming on my face. “I don’t live there on my own, so you won’t be stuck with just me. And unlike where you live, we’re not huge on parties. We have to keep it lowkey and stay out of trouble to stay focused.”
He doesn’t see the way my uneasiness only intensifies from his attempt at reassurance. I do my best to look impassive about it, forcing my knee from bouncing. “And who is ‘we’?”
Aiden glances at me with the kind of dumbfounded expression on his face that makes me want to grind my teeth. “Me and some guys from the team. We house together. It’s easier.”
It’s a confirmation to what I already know, and my nerves are still through the roof as he slows down in front of a large white house that’s in far better condition than the one I live in. There’s even a huge wraparound porch with seating that looks brand new. “You live here?” I murmur as he parks his truck in the driveway.
There are a couple of guys on the front porch chatting and smoking, and when they see us in the driveway, one of them lifts a hand in greeting.
There are a few cars lined up already, and almost every light in the home seems to be on. But there’s no music or mass of people like I’m accustomed to. Wait.
“How do you know about where I live?” I question suspiciously, recalling the remark he made.
He turns the keys and pulls them out of the ignition, leaning back in his front seat. “I know people who know people. All I had to do was ask.”
My stomach does something it hasn’t done in a long time. It flutters. And I don’t like it. “I don’t think I appreciate that,” I inform him uncomfortably. It’s more than likely that Caleb is his source of information. When I found out they weren’t just teammates but friends, I felt a sense of betrayal—from Caleb for probably reporting back to him, and from Aiden for replacing me.
You left first, the taunting voice of reason reminds me.
One of Aiden’s shoulders lifts. “It’s a good thing I didn’t ask if you’d care.” I shoot him a glare and, again, he brushes it off. “Let’s go. You can get out. The child locks should be off now.”
I gape. “You put the child locks on?”
I’m really starting to dislike his you’re kidding me look. His brows pinch and his lips flatten, and those stupid blue eyes narrow at me as if to call me an idiot without verbalizing the insult. “You tried getting out of a moving vehicle. It seemed appropriate.”
“I’m not a child!”
He blinks.
My nostrils flare.
He opens his door, looking over his shoulder at me. “You’re not a bitch either. Come on. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“It’s almost eleven.” I pause. “Where even were you? Aren’t football players on curfew so they don’t royally screw up on the field?”
His responding snort is all I get as he climbs out of the truck. I freeze when he says the words I haven’t heard in a long time. “Out of your head, Underwood.”
Unlike the past, he doesn’t wait until I give him the typical response of ‘head in the game’, he just closes his door until I have no other option but to follow when I see him walking around the side of the house. He throws a wave to the guys who call out his name and I can feel their curious eyes move to me. I ignore their stares and quicken my steps to match his fast strides until we stop at a side door.
“My room is in the basement. It was fully renovated after we moved in since so many people live here,” he explains, unlocking the door and holding it open for me.
Hesitantly, I walk inside.
“It’s only me down here right now. The guys mentioned moving someone else in. Newbie on the team who’s known to party. Better to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t mess up his chances.” His voice echoes slightly behind me as I descend the brightly lit staircase, and I can’t help but hear the roughness in his tone. As I reach the bottom, cinnamon and pine needles fill my senses and goosebumps pimple my arms. It’s the same scent that always surrounded his house growing up.
If he knows what I’m thinking, he doesn’t say anything. He passes my still body and waves me forward with his hand, hooking into a large room with a couch, a few chairs, a huge flat screen TV, and doors on the back wall.
Trying to keep my face neutral even though I’m both impressed and jealous that this is where he lives, I examine the rest of the room. The wood paneling reminds me of the design in my old childhood home—the bottom half of our living room walls were paneled the same way, and the top half was a pale yellow that my mother always asked my dad to help her repaint. To my knowledge, it never happened. Trailing my fingers along the wood crevices, I shake myself from the thought.
When I glance down at the beige carpet, I notice mud stains from my sandals and cringe. Sliding them off my feet, I pick up my dirty shoes and let them dangle from my fingers. “Sorry. If you let it dry, vacuuming it should take out most of the mud and then mix dish detergent and warm water to help get out any stain left.”