Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

  I clench my jaw. “Adam, you know I’d never do that. You’ve known me since I was fifteen years old. Have I ever done anything like this before?”

  “People change.”

  “You changed!” My heart is racing, my adrenaline pumping in my veins.

  I take a deep breath, and with it come the tears I was fighting from releasing in front of him. Resting my elbow on the chair, I lay my face in my hand to hide. I don’t want him to see my desperation.

  I can’t see him, yet I can feel him standing there. His heat, his gaze, the judgment radiating from his skin. His mouth is silent, but his thoughts are screaming at me.

  “I know what you think of me. I’m the girl who shakes her ass on top of a bar for tips. I’ve seen the scowl on your face every time you walk in there.” I lift my head and face him. I’m sure my skin is red and splotchy with my mascara probably running down my face.

  “I don’t do it for a few bucks. I do it for my future. That bar is mine! At the end of the summer, Paulie is selling it to me. I would never do anything to jeopardize the one thing I have been working toward for five years. I’ve saved every penny I have. My parents mortgaged their home. My grandmother sold her bonds. And you think I’d destroy all of that? For what? For a drink and the inconvenience of calling a cab?” I wipe my face with the back of my hand.

  “You don’t get it. You think everyone is out to destroy themselves. Well, not me. I am here to make something of myself. And now, thanks to you and Officer Harper, I am never going to get my liquor license. My dream will never come true, and I will be just another washed up, old has-been in this stupid town.” I inhale through my nose and look to the side.

  A hand is hovering near my face, holding on to something white. I look over and see Adam handing a Kleenex to me. I take it, wipe my nose, and then blot under my eyes.

  He kneels down in front of me, his face level with mine. I think he’s about to say something. Instead, he just looks at me. Really looks at me. His dark eyes pour over every inch of my face. Examining me, questioning me, appraising me. All with one stare. I’ve heard that you can tell if someone is lying just by watching their body language. You can listen to their breathing and track their eyes to see what they’re trying so desperately not to tell you.

  He’s looking at me like that.

  He’s looking at me like he’s trying to see my truth, decipher my lies, and learn if everything he’s ever thought about me is true, right or wrong, good or bad.

  I inhale a shaky breath, convinced that this is it. He’s going to take me back to the holding room and chain me to the foot of Ohio’s most wanted.

  Instead, he places his hand in his pocket and produces a key ring.

  Gently lifting my cuffed wrist in his hand, Adam unlocks the metal, releasing me. He raises his other hand and places it on my wrist. When his fingers brush the tender skin, I suck in a sharp intake of air. He rubs his thumb over the red line where the cuff cut into me, and I no longer feel anything.

  I am numb.

  His face is still serious, but his eyes are softer now. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  My mouth opens, and my eyebrows rise. “Please.”

  “I won’t charge you,” he says slowly as my eyes widen, “if you promise to do one hundred hours of community service.”

  “Why do I have to do anything? I told you I’m innocent.”

  “Take it or leave it, Leah. Harper has a report to write up. He wants you to go before a judge on Monday morning. This is a small town, which means I actually have some pull around here. I can help you but only if you play by my rules.”

  I nod my head in understanding. I’m not in a position to argue. “This won’t affect me getting my license?”

  “You’ll be on probation for six months. If you get in trouble, any trouble, in that time, then I’ll personally deliver you to the District Attorney.”

  I swallow and breathe out. “I can do that. It’s only a hundred and eighty-two days.”

  “You’re good at math.”

  “I’m good at a lot of things.”

  If I’m not mistaken, Adam’s breathing jumps when I say that. No, I must have mistaken it because he quickly rises and steps away from me.

  “My shift is over. I’ll bring you home. Take a seat on the front bench while I change.” He walks out of the room before I can say anything.

  I take a calmative breath and then walk to the nearest restroom to clean up. I’m tired, and I can’t wait to get in my room and throw on a pair of pajamas.

  Cleaned up and ready to go home, I take a seat on the bench and play with the frayed edges of my shorts while I wait for Adam. When he comes back, he’s no longer wearing the polyester nightmare. Now he’s in sweatpants and a form-fitting T-shirt, much more like the Adam I knew when I was a kid.

  As he walks past, he hands me my purse that was taken from me when I arrived and nods his chin toward the door, letting me know to follow him. We walk to his personal vehicle, a pickup truck, and I climb into the passenger side.

  When we’re on the road, I find myself glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. Then, I give myself permission to turn and take a better look. If I didn’t know him, I’d think he was a carefree guy with the way his long legs stretch out in the seat, his one arm on the wheel, the other hand on the gearshift. His hair is brushed back although slightly unkempt, as it should be after working a twelve-hour shift.

  “You hot?” he asks.

  I blink, trying to understand his question.

  “No. I’m fine.” I run my hand through my hair and try to quell my nerves. I’m fidgety and unsure.

  Men do not make me feel this way. Yet here I am, sitting next to Adam for the first time in seven years, and I can feel the electricity pulsing between us.

  What is wrong with me? This is Adam. He’s an asshole. He has been one since he gave up his scholarship to UConn to stay home to be the town hallway patrol. Maybe it’s delirium from lack of sleep. Maybe it’s because he saved me tonight. Saved me from losing my bar, saved me from…

  “Nico,” I say.

  Adam’s head swivels to look at me.

  “Thank you for protecting me.”

  He looks back at the road. “Yeah. No problem.”

  His face is tight with disdain. The criminal is clearly a hard topic for the tough cop.

  “What he said about Brad…is he responsible?”

  Adam swallows and purses his lips. “Yes.”

  I sit back and remember my first boyfriend who wasted away in a short amount of time. Brad was my first kiss. My first date. My first love. We’d been dating for a year when, one day, he canceled a date. He said he had other plans. Those plans took over his life for six short months until he was found dead.

  “Adam,” I start to say. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about Brad since he cut me off all those years ago. Actually, I never talk about Brad with anyone. My memories are kept in a tiny pocket inside my heart.

  “We’re here,” he says as he pulls up to my house and hits the unlock button. All he offers is the side of his face.

  I’m being dismissed.

  Looks like we’re back to him being a complete dick. I undo my seat belt and open the door. I want to say something else, but it’s too late. What we had is lost.

  Three

  Crunch, crunch, slurp.

  I open my eyes and see the cardboard cutout of Matthew McConaughey staring back at me. He’s wearing jeans, a button-down, a cowboy hat, and a smirk. Those piercing blues welcome me with the morning sunshine every day.

  And, today, there’s an added sound effect.

  Crunch, crunch, slurp.

  I roll over and see my brother, Luke, sitting in my desk chair, eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch.

  “What are you doing up so early?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

  I’m the early bird in this house. Looking at my clock, I see it’s only eight in the morning. I got a grand total of four hours of sleep, yet I feel oddly ref
reshed.

  Luke, on the other hand, looks like he’s still in last night’s clothes.

  “Just got in. Thought I’d swing by and see how your night in the pokey was,” he says with a mouthful of Crunch Berries.

  I bolt up in bed. “How did you know I got arrested?”

  “My friend lives across the street from the park. Saw you getting hauled away in the backseat. He said your car was mangled,” Luke states like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.

  “Glad to know you were so concerned.” I cross my arms. “I’m fine by the way.”

  Luke smiles and takes a huge, heaping bite from his spoon. Milk is dribbling down his chin. “I know. As soon as I heard, I called the station. They said you had been released, so I came home to see how you were feeling. Before I forget, your probation officer will be here at nine.” He grabs my cell phone off my desk.

  “My who?” I take the phone from his hand and scroll through the text messages.

  “Someone texted and said you had to be ready at nine for community service. I take it that is your punishment.”

  I fall back on the bed. “Yeah, punishment indeed. This whole thing is ridiculous. As soon as I find Victoria, I am going to wring her neck. Can you believe she drove my car while high, crashed it, and then took off?”

  “Yes,” Luke says. He brings his bowl to his mouth and slurps the remaining milk from it. When he’s finished, he places the bowl on the desk and turns to me. “If you weren’t driving, why did you get arrested?”

  “I was the idiot standing by the driver’s door. The officer assumed.” I wave a hand in the air, wiping away the bad Karma. “Whatever. It’s fine. Adam was there, and he’s letting the whole thing go as long as I do community service. It’s a drag, but it’ll be fine. Gotta keep on living, you know?”

  “Okay, McConaughey.” Luke is looking at me with one eye closed. “Since when are you friends with Adam? That guy’s a douche. He gave me a ticket last month for doing sixty in a fifty-five.”

  I stand up and walk over to my dresser where I take out an outfit. I look down at my nails. I was going to get a manicure today and then go to the mall. There’s a really cute denim jumpsuit at Forever 21. Guess I’ll just have to go later.

  “I have to do what he says or else the OVI charge will stick, and I won’t get my bar.”

  Luke whistles through his teeth. “Damn. Mom and Dad will freak.”

  I point a finger at him. “I know. That’s why they cannot know about any of this.”

  He tilts his head, his red hair flopping in his face. “Do you really think I’d tell them?”

  “Your friend who lives by the park had better keep his mouth shut, too.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about him. I have way too much dirt on that kid.” Luke rises and walks over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. Somehow, he managed to grow taller than me by a good three inches. “Don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me.” He smiles and then adds, “Under one condition. You convince Mom and Dad to let me buy a motorcycle.”

  I swat his hand away. “You’ll kill yourself.”

  “Just like you almost did last night.” He winks, knowing full well that I was not driving. “Where’s your car by the way?”

  My stomach churns. I haven’t thought of what I’m going to tell my parents about my car.

  “Luke? Leah? You up? I made cinnamon rolls,” Dad calls from downstairs.

  “Be right there!” I shout. Then, I turn to Luke. “Fine. I’ll try my best, but I can’t make any promises. Now, go shower because you stink.” Placing my hands on his shoulders, I turn him around and escort him out of my room.

  “You should talk, jailbird. You go first.”

  I close the door behind him. I only have forty-five minutes to get ready. I reply to the text from the unknown caller who said I had to be ready at nine and ask who it is, followed by asking where I’m supposed to go.

  While I wait for a reply, I shower, dress, and spritz myself with coconut body mist. When you grow up in a house with one full bathroom, you learn how to get ready in a flash.

  Wearing a floral romper and wedges, I come downstairs and am hit with the scent of Dad’s homemade cinnamon rolls. As I walk through the living room, a pretty Persian kitty comes prancing over to say hello. I pick up my baby boy and nuzzle him to my cheek.

  “Hello, Eddie. Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

  He purrs into my skin as another feline wraps its furry body around my ankle. I bend down to scratch the top of the calico’s head. Mr. Wooderson doesn’t like to be picked up.

  I’ve named all our cats after Matthew McConaughey characters. These two loves are Steve Edison from The Wedding Planner and David Wooderson from Dazed and Confused. Three more little guys are hiding somewhere.

  My mom is obsessed with cats. And by obsessed, I mean she’s a balls-to-the-wall groupie over them. I love cats, but Pam Paige is a little cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, if you know what I mean.

  Case in point, the kitty city takes over half of the living room. You’ve heard of a kitty condo? Well, there is an entire world dedicated to her fur babies, including a wheel for them to take their daily laps and seven towers for them to scratch, pounce, and play. There’s even a bed for each cat. You might not think that’s so crazy, but over our fireplace mantel is a collage of every cat we’ve ever had—dead and alive.

  The only person who has more wall presence in this house is Luke. He’s the favorite, being the only boy and all. Next is Emma. She’s the perfect one. Photos of her playing the violin since she was ten years old are spread around the house. As for me, there’s a picture or two around. I don’t take it personally. I know they love me.

  “Morning, sunshine!” Dad says as I enter the kitchen and put Eddie on the floor.

  “Morning, Bob.”

  Yes, I call my parents by their first names. It’s not out of disrespect. It’s quite the opposite. They’re real people who have lives other than being my mom and dad. I think that should be acknowledged.

  I grab a roll off the oven pan. It’s hot and gooey. I kiss his cheek and take a seat at the table.

  Mom walks in through the back door, her gardening tools in hand. She’s wearing a sun visor and a pink T-shirt with a cat on it. It says, My prayers are said in CATholic. I bought it for her for Mother’s Day.

  She looks surprised to see me. “Hi, baby. I didn’t know you were home. Your car’s not in the driveway.”

  I stuff my mouth with a burning hot cinnamon roll and mumble, “I drank last night, so I asked Victoria for a ride home.” One of my best features is my inability to lie. Talk around the truth? Sure. Lie? Never.

  “That was very responsible of you. I’ll drive you to get it later.”

  Luke walks into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing clean basketball shorts and an undershirt.

  I rapidly suck in and blow out through my mouth to cool the burn on my tongue. “No worries. Luke’s gonna drive me today.”

  Mom grabs a glass, fills it with milk, and hands it to me. “Here you go, sweetie.”

  Gulping the milk, I look at Luke, who is holding his hands up like he’s riding a motorcycle and revving the engine. I squint my eyes at him.

  “Good news.” Dad reaches across the counter and hands me a slip of paper. “Grandma wired the money to the McConaughey Fund. You have another forty grand.”

  Luke lets out a low whistle. “Who knew Grams was loaded?”

  Mom tsks at Luke. “She’s not loaded. She’s just helping her granddaughter fulfill a dream.”

  “Besides,” Dad says, grabbing a paring knife, “after Leah’s done paying off Paulie for the remainder, that will be a lucrative business.”

  All this talk of how much money is going into this bar makes me antsy. I know the books of that bar like the back of my hand. I know how long I’ll have to run it before I can start making a profit. Doesn’t make it less frightening though.

  “Maybe Grams has a few more dollars to make
my dreams come true,” Luke says. He’s eyeing me again, making that stupid motorcycle sign.

  I mouth the word, No, to him.

  With a rise of his brows, Luke turns to Dad. “Did you hear about Leah’s night?”

  Dad looks up from slicing strawberries. “No. Anything exciting happen?”

  Just then, the doorbell rings, and I quickly stand up. “I’ll get it!”

  On my way out, I flip Luke the bird, and he holds his wrists up like they’re cuffed together, reminding me of my eventful night.

  I open the front door, and suddenly, Luke is no longer the problem.

  My eyes instantly collide with a man’s torso, clad in a tight orange T-shirt that accentuates his muscular chest. He’s wearing jeans and construction boots, and when I look up to the top of his six-foot frame, he’s wearing aviator sunglasses that reflect my dumbstruck expression.

  “Adam.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Why are you here?”

  He lowers his chin and peers at me from under his sunglasses. “You don’t have a car, and your community service begins at ten.”

  I try to close the door, so no one can see who is outside when Mom pops up from behind me.

  “Who’s here? Oh, Adam! What a surprise.” She places a hand to her chest. “Is everything okay? You’re not here on duty, are you?”

  I snap my head at Adam, who looks back at my mom with a smile.

  “No, ma’am. I’m here on my own time.”

  Mom relaxes her arm. “Well then, welcome. It’s so good to see you. You haven’t been over here since you were, what? A junior?”

  “I was a senior, Mrs. Paige, and I’m here to pick up Leah. She’s agreed to volunteer at Homes for All Souls with me.”

  Mom’s chin drops to her chest. “Leah? My Leah is going to build houses?”

  “Apparently, she is looking for a little rehabilitation.” The inflection in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

  I turn to her and flippantly answer, “Like I’d say no to gawking at hot construction boys all day. I just want to watch them play with their hammers.”