I barely get the words out before Aiden’s hand fits to my jaw and he leans in to kiss me. It’s a good kiss, the kind that makes my skin tingle and the whole world fade away until we’re the only two people on the planet. His free hand slides around my waist, pulling me closer, and a light sigh escapes from me. I could get so lost in him if I let myself.

That thought abruptly brings reality back into focus, and I shimmy from Aiden’s arms until we’re awkwardly sitting beside each other again in the reading chair that’s meant for only one person. This chair, my bed, and my thrift-shop desk and dresser make up the entirety of the furniture in my room—unless you count the boxes I never bothered to unpack.

Easygoing almost to a fault, Aiden lets me go without protest, raising a single eyebrow. “Did you hear your mom or something?”

I shake my head and shift to the cushioned armrest so we’re no longer smooshed together. “She left barely an hour ago. That would be a new record for world’s shortest first date, even for her.” I want to check the window, though, and he knows it.

Aiden toys with a thread from the frayed knee of my jeans. There’s an ease to the way he’s touching me that screams boyfriend. I shiver involuntarily, which in turn makes me inch my leg away.

“Would it be so horrible if she knew about me?” he says. “I mean, we’ve technically already met.” He glances over at the hiking boots next to my dresser, the ones he sold me and Mom four months ago, before she and I hiked the Smoky Mountains over the summer. I’d wanted to go to Disneyland, but she gets superanxious in big crowds, so she surprised me with a road trip and a secluded weeklong hike instead, which, I’ll admit now, turned out kind of amazing. So did the cute REI sales associate who oh so casually slipped me his number while Mom was checking out mini stoves.

I gnaw my lip, trying to think of a way to say that, yes, it would be horrible if Mom knew about him, without actually having to say yes. I settle on “It’s not you.”

In response, Aiden gives me a slow nod. “Right.”

“It’s not.” I reach for the hand he’s drawn back. “It’s not even her. It’s me.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Ashamed of me, huh? No, I get it. Guys who volunteer at animal shelters are generally dicks.”

“No.” I let my mouth curve in a smile. “But they do sometimes smell like cat pee.”

A genuine laugh erupts from Aiden. “Seriously? I try to be really careful about that.”