Page 202 of Challenge Me

I frowned. “A guy? What’s he call himself?”

“Aiden.”

The name cracked open something in my chest. “Aiden who?”

“Well, I don’t really know. He works at Harmon’s library.”

“He came from Seattle? So, he’s a friend of yours.”

“Acquaintance, I guess. I’d only ever talked to him on campus. But he isn’t here for me.”

I made it behind the counter, and my stomach dipped when I saw a man standing awkwardly by the door. His hands were in his pockets, and he swept his gaze across the bar like he was checking for threats while he tapped his heel. I might not have recognized him if I didn’t know his name, but his thin frame and messy red hair lit up memories inside me.

He was still slight, still sharp-boned, still that strange blend of timid and hyper-focused. But now, he was grown, no longer the young boy who got thrown into dumpsters and called horrible names.

As I approached, his attention snapped to me, and his face brightened. “Hi,” he said. “You look . . . Wow.”

“Sorry, I don’t really know what to say. How are you here?”

Aiden’s smile faltered. “You posted a video on Instagram. I saw it. The whole . . . blackmail . . . thing. Yeah.”

I breathed a laugh. “Sure, it’s kind of crazy, huh? I’m not a criminal, just so you know. It was a bit of a misunderstanding.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “It was complicated.”

“I came to see you,” he explained, glossing over everything I’d said. “I never knew what happened after they moved you. One day you were there, then you weren’t.”

The words struck something in me. “I didn’t know what happened to you either. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, good. Great. Mostly.”

My gaze moved across his face, to his steel-blue eyes and too-wide pupils. “Let me get you a soda.”

He bit his lip, then nodded. I led him to a stool, and Tommy eyed him. Aiden gave him the tightest smile I’d ever seen, not that I could blame him.

“Friend of yours?” he asked.

“Sort of. Hey, Tommy. Cool it with the mean mug, alright?”

He grunted before he stood and headed into the bathroom. What a grump.

Oli slid over to us on the other side of the counter with a friendly smile. “What are you up for? I make a mean vodka sour. Simple, I know, but I add a splash of pineapple—”

“Cokes are fine,” I interrupted, giving him a meaningful look.

With a nod, he pulled out two glasses.

“So,” I said. Aiden was twiddling his thumbs on the counter, which might have been a nervous habit. “You were in Seattle and I had no idea.”

“Yeah, small world. I did see you once, though.”

I picked up the soda Oli handed me and took a small sip. “Where at?”

“The Commons.”

I tried not to let that bother me. Aiden was an adult with fifteen years between our last conversation. I didn’t know who he was now or what vices had a grip on him. Maybe none.

I glanced at the tattoos on his arms. The solar system, like he used to draw there.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. “I would’ve loved to catch up.”