Alexis
"We could try the Tuna sandwich?" I suggest.
We are sitting at Cherries, deciding what to order for lunch. The closest place from my bookstore, where we could eat, is Cherries and since Aaron has the hunger of an elephant who has gone without food for three days, we are here, instead of the dining hall at the campus, which would have taken five minutes longer to reach. None of us has spoken about the bookshelf incident or his claim that I am a chaste maiden smitten by his green eyes and I want to jump his bones and I am thankful for it; I would rather not remember the way I reacted to him, even though his green eyes do make me want to do stupid things damnit.
"I am not taking any of your suggestions, not after the shit you made me eat last time."
If someone told me last week, that I'd be sitting here with Richards, two days in the same week, I would have branded them as the new lunatic of our batch. Joke's on me because I got played by my guiding angels.
"It wasn't that bad." I snort.
"Yes, it was. That was the whole point of suggesting me that salad."
"Your reaction was priceless."
Aaron makes a disgusted face, "Don't remind me. It tasted like lemon fest in that one bowl."
"A lemon country," I add.
"Like a jug of pure lemon juice, extracted from a whole farm."
I burst out laughing and finally choose the tuna sandwich when the waitress comes. Aaron orders the same.
"Whatever happened to Emily, right?" I ask slyly.
At first, he looks clueless about her but then he scrunches his eyebrows together and remembers.
"Are you jealous?" he looks so amused by it I want to slam his head against the wall.
This is not something new, I want to slam his head against a wall always but ever since the dream, my mind has gone into a pure bullshitting mode, and today did everything it could to worsen it.
"As if I could ever be a victim of the Aaron disease. My immunity and my pants' elastics are stronger than that.
"The what?" Aaron looks like he could be the cure for all the sadness in the world, what with all the laughter he's trying to suppress.
"The Aaron disease."
"What's the Aaron disease? Who else knows about it? Who has contracted the disease?" He leans forward on his elbows and is gripping the table so he doesn't fall over from his fake-laughing-gas-induces-laughter.
I roll my eyes at him, "So very funny, right?"
"Oh definitely. Now answer me."
"The Aaron disease is what happens to people, mostly girls, who are enamored by the façade you put on."
"Hey, there's no façade," he points his finger at his chest, "It's all god-gifted, babe."
I look at his smug face and give him a sweet smile, "Of course it's not a façade, I mean no one can be as annoying as you, even if they fake it. I forgot you being a hockey player and having a ripped body is enough to drive girls into your bed."
"You think I have a hot body?"
"So not the point."
Obviously, that's the point he focuses on, his inflated head can't take anything else. He probably sings to himself in the shower, staring at the mirror and singing "you're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face, cause look at your face".
"I am flattered, Lexieee." He draws out my name and I am overcome by this huge overwhelming feeling to stab myself in the eyes with the fork in front of me.
"And besides," he continues, "They do it, because I am hot, and because I am good at what I do."
"You are mentally challenged, Richards," I maintain a poker face, "let me just google the nearest asylum for your betterment."
"Or you could experience it yourself, maybe that's what I can give you, in exchange for the fake dates." His eyes are full of humor and I am reminded of the darker shade they turned into, back in the bookstore. This Aaron looks better, but that Aaron was all-consuming, deep, and magnetic. When he had me pinned against the bookshelf, he was all I saw.
"You are gross," I say, amatter of fact-edly.
"You didn't tell me what the symptoms of Aaron disease were."
"Hmm, let's see," I pretend to think for a while, "Going all gooey-eyed over you, desperately flirting with you and practically shoving their boobs in your face."
"Good God, you just described every girl I have ever met."
"I am a girl too, you know." I tease him a bit.
"So you're either fighting my charms or you're different, or most probably mentally deranged, which you probably are."
"I could be a lesbian too, you know." I point out.
"You couldn't be, because you shiver under my touch and in a good way," he says nonchalantly but I almost choke on my food.
"Here's your meal, enjoy." The waitress, who is a ginger beauty, smiles at us and places our plates in front of us, and walks away.
"So," Aaron clears his throat, "We should discuss whatever it is you need to do."
I can bet my whole life's earnings, and the blood of the Virgin Mary on the fact that he is as affected by what happened in the bookstore, as I am. It's very obvious in his topic-changing tone.
I take a bite of my tuna sandwich, so I don't have to recount my most embarrassing marks, in front of the last person I would want to say it to. On a side note, this tuna is mouth-wateringly good; I am starting to think the taste of the dishes here, runs in extremes.
"I need you to tutor me in biology, for midterms," I say, trying to be as stern as possible.
"You are in Black' class with me, right?" I nod, "Well, how much did you score in the last one?"
My cheeks heat up and I am so embarrassed that I barely hear myself as I say it.
"I didn't hear it." Aaron leans forwards, curiosity etched on his forehead.
"I said I got a D."
Aaron is quiet for a while and then says, "So you are absolutely sure, you don't want me to do anything else?"
I squint my eyes at him, "You are not going to make fun of me for my marks?"
He looks calm and collected and his eyes soften at my response, "We have all had our share of bad grades, Lexie, that doesn't mean you're not good. Stop beating yourself up over it."
Well, that took a turn. When I told Aaron my grades, I imagined fits of laughter and calling me out on my i-am-better-than-you attitude I shower him with. I make a mental note to find a book called How to deal with sweet Aaron 101.
"So I have to tutor you?" Aaron groans and takes a bite of his sandwich.
"Yes, and I have to go to your stupid parties."
"This is so good," he points at his sandwich, with big and excited eyes. How adorable.
"I'll go to four of your dates, and I want you to tutor me four days a week." I lick my fingers, because yes, it's so, so good.
"Four days?! I will do three." Aaron shrieks.
"Four."
"Three."
"Four or I am out."
"Well, aren't you manipulative?" Aaron rolls his eyes at me.
"No, I am just taking what you promised. You said anything." I smile sweetly at him and his laugh trembles through my bones. It's deep and molten and soothing.
"Alright!" he sits up straight and wipes his face with a tissue, "I will tell you what you have to do for me. Basically, just act like a girlfriend and so in love with me-"
"-disgusting, that is impossible for me."
"And dress polished, not causally, please-"
I open my mouth to whine but he cuts me off, "You will. It will have a better effect. We need to go to New York this Saturday, for the first party. My cousin Danielle is getting married and there's some family dinner to 'get to know each other'." He mimics a gagging motion and I laugh at his antics.
"Dany and Fred have known each other since they were fifteen. How much more do you need to know?" Aaron sounds exasperated.
I shake my head, "Rich people and their dinner shenanigans."
"I will drink to that." Aaron raises his glass of water and clinks it to mine.
I clear my throat, "Okay I will do it. And you, sir, have to teach me mental disorders for the midterm."
"Oh aren't you a specialist in that, crazy pants?" Aaron winks.
"Shut up."
"You broke a car's windshield and windows. Sounds a bit cray-cray to me."
"None of your business, I was drunk," I grunt.
"Okay, Carrie Underwood." He laughs his deep throaty laugh again and I feel it doing weird, questionable things to me again.
"Four days. Two hours a day. Till midterm." I put on my best fake serious tone and he, mock-salutes me.
"Aye, aye, Cap'n."
"It's a deal, Richards." I extend my hand to shake his.
But instead of shaking it, he leans over and flicks my forehead, "Yes Lexieeeee."
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AAAH I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS, HAPPY READING!