Turning to the taller one, I ask, “Where is the head of the house at?”
The brunette from earlier smirks like she knows something nobody else does and points toward the door behind me. “You’re in luck. Sydney’s alone and I’m sure she’d love seeing you again after last time.”
I say nothing and knock on the door.
When it opens, I slip in wordlessly until the door clicks shut behind me.
Chapter Ten
Ivy
A week of an all-liquid diet and as much sleep as possible left me fifteen pounds lighter. I barely left my room until the cold meds a football player left me helped fight off the virus.
In and out of my fever dreams, I vaguely recall Raine and Caleb checking on me. But it was Aiden who I’d wake up to sitting in a chair someone brought down for him, reading a textbook, jotting down something in a notebook, or sometimes forcing water and medicine down my throat despite my protests. Sometimes, I’d feel his eyes on me and refuse to acknowledge his presence, choosing to sleep off the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach every time he was around. It never stopped him from sitting me up, making me eat and drink, or washing off my sweaty skin with a cold washcloth until the fever broke.
And when I finally came to and found myself alone, in clean, dry clothes that were too big to be mine, I found a note beside my table with scratchy handwriting I know is Aiden’s that simply said Raine helped change you so don’t think I copped a feel. Unblocked my number in your phone. Text me when you’re awake.
I could block his number again and ignore his request, but as I push myself out of the lumpy bed that’s been my prison for the past week and examine the Dragons football sweatshirt twice the size of me and pair of rolled up gray sweatpants on my body, I know I have to be better. Not for me, but for the person who’s clearly never given up on me when he should have a long time ago.
I want to be your friend.
Aiden didn’t have to spend his spare time taking care of someone like me, but he’ll always be the little boy who took me by the shoulders after my mother said something hurtful and told me, “Out of your head, Underwood.” The first time I heard those words, I stared at him with glassy eyes until he’d added, “This is where you say, ‘head in the game.’”
To this day, he doesn’t want me being trapped alone in my thoughts, replaying old fights or moments that would lead me twisted in his spare blankets or bedding instead of the ugly pink ones I grew out of when I was twelve. Because now I don’t have that escape—I won’t let myself.
Pulling up his name he clearly programmed into my phone while I was out of commission, I type out a quick message before forcing myself up the stairs with clothes that actually fit and head for the shower.
When I’m done drying off and combing my hair, I notice the blinking light in the corner of my phone when I glance down at the counter it rests on.
Aiden: You’re welcome
The whispers at the house get worse each time I find myself coming and going. Some of the girls who would barely pay me a second look now stare a little too hard like they’re trying to figure something out, and the itchy feeling under my skin builds from the unwanted attention.
Sydney has been even worse to me since I recovered because of Remi’s wandering gaze and Aiden’s daily cameos to make sure I’m still alive. Her glares are more obvious after the tight end leaves, and her comments are like whips against my skin whenever Remi tries making conversation with me.
They may only be words, nothing that can do any permanent damage, but even cat scratches hurt like a bitch for a few days before they fade.
Their words wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t overheard Sydney talking to a few girls when I was dragging myself to the kitchen for juice that Aiden bought for me. Normally I tune out their gossip, but as soon as the tight end’s name was mentioned I couldn’t help but eavesdrop from behind the basement door. When I heard Paris Hilton 2.0 mention her candid history with my childhood friend, something heavy dipped in the pit of my stomach. But that feeling spread to my chest and vice gripped my heart when I heard the other girls asking what happened when Aiden slipped into Sydney’s room the other day.
I have no reason to be jealous over what, or who, he chooses to do. I’ve been far from celibate over the years, taking what I want since moving in because I can and not because I’m obligated to, so there’s no reason for me to feel betrayed that Aiden gets some too. Even if it’s from the girl whose done everything to beat me down with her lackluster opinions and dirty looks.
Swallowing down the little green monster, I grip my bag a little tighter as I walk through campus. The brisk air is exactly what I need after holing myself up, and the nipping November wind against my skin distracts me from the thoughts that pop back up.
Unfortunately, Aiden and the she devil still haunts me even when I get to my first class. By the time anthropology comes around, my mood is sour, my energy drained, and my patience ten times thinner than normal.
“You sure you don’t need to go home?” DJ asks for the third time since I sat down, seeing the way my body slumps into the seat and eyes struggle to stay open through the lecture.
I’ve been ready to go home since I left my room this morning, but I have a shift at the bakery despite Bea telling me to take as much time to recover as I need. “DJ, I don’t wake up and strive to be a hardcore bitch every day of my life, but you’re about to see that side of me if you ask me that one more time.”
One of the guys, Matt, snickers from the other side of him. When I lean forward and shoot him a look of warning, he sinks down in his seat and pretends to care about the lesson.
DJ nudges my arm. “I’m looking out for you, and not just for the tight end either.”
I don’t acknowledge what he’s getting at and focus on my notes instead. It’s bad enough I’m over three classes behind. “Did you take any decent notes while I was away?”
His lips twitch downward. “No, but—”
“You can borrow mine,” another football player says from nearby. I give the guy, Wallace according to the others, a gra