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

by Fields, MJ

  I try to ignore the pang of disappointment in my belly and hammer the next nail in, a little too rough.

  “Hey,” he says, obviously aware of the insult, “I didn’t mean you. I meant—”

  “It’s cool. I know what you meant.” I stand and grab the measuring tape from the ground near the toolbox. I measure the space between the end of the trim and the wall. “Besides, I get asked out all the time.”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounds indifferent. “I noticed.”

  I snake a pencil out from behind my ear and write the measurement on the wall. A memory pops into my head, making me laugh to myself. “This one time, I was out with Emma, and this guy came up to us. He put his hand in my drink, grabbed a piece of ice, and threw it on the floor.” I laugh again because the line is just too funny. “And he said, ‘I was just trying to break the ice.’”

  Taking a breath to control myself, I add, “Don’t worry. I know how to scare them off. He asked if I wanted to feel his biceps. I took my hand and rubbed it over the sleeve of his arm, and in the sultriest voice I could muster, I said, ‘Feels like boyfriend material.’” With a chuckle, I stand up. “He ran so fast.”

  I’m still smiling to myself as I turn around and come face-to-face with Adam. He’s not laughing at all. Instead, his brows are creased with a look in his eyes like he’s slightly dazed.

  “I almost forgot how much I love your stories.” His mouth curves into a lopsided grin.

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at the small line on the edge of his smile. It’s so perfect that I could lean over and kiss it.

  With a shake, I ignore that thought. “You gonna stand there all day? Because this trim isn’t going to cut itself.”

  I rush down the stairs with the measurements in hand and head outside to the circular saw.

  Adam comes up behind me. “You do this one.”

  Since my shirt is wet, the heat is more tolerable. I slide on goggles and make the cut. He gives a chin up to let me know it looks good. I cut a few more pieces, turn off the machine, and walk the wood upstairs. I’m hammering the piece of trim into the wall when I feel Adam come back into the room. I look back at him while I work.

  Paying way too much attention to the hammer in his hand, he nods his head, almost to himself. “You wouldn’t be upset at all if I asked Jessica to Velocity?”

  His question catches me off guard, and I trip on the power cord, falling on the floor. “Fuck!”

  “Are you okay?” Adam is at my side, my wrist in his hand, and he guides me toward a bench.

  My skin is scraped but not bleeding. With puckered lips, he gently blows on the pulsing skin, and my injured knee is now the last thing on my mind.

  “You need an ice pack? I’m sure Toby has something in the truck.”

  He’s looking down at my leg, and I can’t help but stare at his sculpted jaw and the five o’clock shadow of gorgeous dark hair accenting those impossibly soft-looking lips. His hand is still holding on to mine, and the heat of skin-to-skin contact is making my wrist feel like the most erogenous zone on my body.

  “You look a little flush. You want a drink or something?” he says, releasing my hand and walking over to his cooler. He grabs an iced tea and hands it to me.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I love these.”

  “I remember.”

  Adam has this way of doing this thing to me. He keeps an emotional distance, yet every once in a while, there’s this reminder of a past—however brief—we once shared. It was just basketball in a driveway. It was only run-ins in the kitchen of his house or at Brad’s. It was the occasional car ride when one of our parents was dropping us off at places, but it happened. It was real.

  “Yeah, Brad got me hooked on ’em. He liked the raspberry.”

  “You liked peach.” His eyes are serious and sad yet full of want.

  I turn the bottle over and see the drink is peach iced tea.

  I inhale a sharp breath. For some unknown reason, I want to cry, and I have no freaking clue why. I don’t know if it’s because my stupid knee still hurts or because memories of Brad are coming to the forefront.

  Or maybe, most likely, it’s because Adam, who ignored me for years, remembers that I liked peach iced tea.

  I turn around and take a drink, not wanting to look at him. I don’t react to things like this. I’m happy and fun. Sad days are the worst days. Keep on keepin’ on. That’s what my man McConaughey says, and that’s how I live. I don’t cry over peach iced tea.

  I drain nearly half of the bottle and then hold it to my chest. “I think Velocity is a good idea.”

  His head pops up, his brows rising. “Really?”

  “Jessica is perfect for you. It’s time you started doing something for you again. Go out with a nice girl. Settle down.”

  He leans forward, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “What about you?”

  My brows pop up. “Me?”

  “I know you have your rule about the bar being your only love. Have you considered ditching that rule?”

  With a smile, squashing the feelings boiling in my belly, I say, “I’m pretty sure I’m already in love with the perfect guy.”

  “That was fast.”

  “The heart wants what it wants, you know?”

  Adam nods his head, those eyes downcast. “Good for you. Nice guy?”

  I close my eyes and breathe, “He’s perfect.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments—me holding on to the cold bottle of tea and him looking down at my knee.

  “Can you give me Jessica’s number?” he asks.

  If the damn tea didn’t make me cry, his words are about to. But I won’t because I can’t. “I’d love to.”

  Thirteen

  Adam doesn’t take Jessica to Velocity. He takes her bowling. You know who bowls? Real couples—that’s who. It’s so Joanie and Chachi that I can’t even.

  “Oh my God, I never thought I’d see the day when you stepped foot into a bowling alley!” Carolína says from behind the shoe rental counter. She’s a super-sexy Ecuadorian who fell in love with a guy on vacation and relocated to Cedar Ridge in order to be with him. For someone to move from exotic Ecuador with its gorgeous beaches and Amazon jungle to Ohio, it must really be love.

  “You and me both,” I reply to her comment.

  “What size are you?” she asks.

  I shoo her away. “I’m just here, scouting the area,” I say, turning my back to the counter and looking around.

  It’s cosmic bowling night, so the alley is darkened, the typical fluorescent lighting gone. Neon lights are illuminating the lanes with strobe lights shooting from the walls and overhead. It’s like an acid user’s paradise.

  “Scouting for what?” she asks, her perfectly white teeth glowing in the dark.

  “Oh, nothing, nothing.” Drumming my fingers on the ledge, I look down the lanes until I find the two lovebirds engaging in a little bowling alley foreplay.

  Jessica is pulling the you-bowl-so-well-please-show-me-how move. I roll my eyes. What’s worse is that Adam’s falling for it. He takes a step behind her, and with his body molded to hers, he guides her into perfect bowling form.

  “I’ll need a lane. Preferably lane three or five.”

  “They’re both taken. You’ll have to wait at least two hours.”

  “Two hours? That’s ridiculous.” I look back over to lane four where Jessica is hugging Adam after hitting a pin. Yes, just one single pin. “Whatever. Put me down. I’ll wait.”

  “Okay, what size are you?” She’s looking back at me with these bright brown eyes and luxurious dark hair and pointing to the rows of unattractive plastic-looking shoes, which have been worn by hundreds of strangers, lined up behind her.

  “There is no way I’m wearing those.” I point to my squeaky white Keds. “These’ll do.”

  Her pink lipstick highlights her flawless skin. She leans forward with a pointed finger and says, “When I go into your bar, I play by your rules. My alley, my rules.
So, if you wanna bowl, you have to wear the shoes.”

  With a pinched face, I sneer at her. “Fine. Size seven.”

  “Leah?”

  A familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around to see Suzanne and Rory.

  “Hey, guys! Do you have a lane already?”

  They slowly nod their heads. I practically jump. This is so perfect. I can bowl with them and not look like the crazy lady who is bowling solo.

  “Who’s ready to go bowling?” I say with an excited squeal and a shimmy shake.

  Suzanne is staring at me with the most confused look on her face. “You don’t bowl,” she deadpans.

  “Of course I do,” I say. I take the ugly bowling shoes from Carolína. “And look! I get to wear these super-adorable shoes!”

  Suzanne folds her arms. “What’s going on with you?”

  “You’re always saying that I need to have some fun while I can. Tonight’s my night off, and I decided to try my hand at bowling.”

  Unsure of my honesty, Suzanne looks around the room. Hopefully, she won’t look over at lane four. If I’m lucky, she’ll look the other way.

  Nope. She’s looking down the lanes.

  Yep. She’s just spotted Adam and Jessica.

  “No!” Suzanne demands.

  “Sue—”

  “We talked about this. Stay away from him.”

  “I am.”

  She taps her foot, and her reprimanding face is on in full force.

  “Okay, fine,” I give in. “I just want to take a peek. See if they need help with getting to know each other.”

  She loosens up her arms and grabs me by the elbow, ushering me away from Carolína and Rory. With a hushed voice, she says, “Look, I know what you’re doing, and it’s going to do nothing but get one of you hurt. Besides, even you said that they would be great for each other. Just let them be, Leah. Okay? Can you do that?”

  I roll my head and look up at the ceiling. I let out a pout. I hate when she’s right. “Yes, I can do that.” I place the shoes back on the counter. “Killjoy.”

  Spinning around, I announce rather loudly into the room, “If you need me, I’ll be at home, clipping my toenails and watching a McConaughey film.” I let out a deep sigh and add, “All. By. Myself.”

  I start to walk away. My shoulders are hunched, and my walk is slow and pathetic.

  “Wait,” Suzanne calls out.

  I halt with a smile.

  “Why don’t you hang out with me and Rory? No need to be home alone on your night off.”

  I twirl around, skip back, and lock my elbow with hers. “I love that idea. Can I have the purple ball?”

  Suzanne shakes her head. “This is not mini golf, Leah. You pick a ball based on the right weight.”

  “I’m a hundred and thirty pounds,” I state.

  Suzanne stops and looks back at me with a blank face. I widen my eyes so as to ask what the problem is. She just starts laughing and then pulls me along, Rory following.

  “You seriously are one of my favorite people in the whole world. Come on, let’s see what we can teach you.”

  Pop music is playing over the loudspeaker. I dance-walk to the sound of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” as we head to lane twenty-three. It’s literally the furthest lane we could possibly get from lane four. Between the strobe lights, packed lanes, and distance, I can’t see Jessica and Adam at all.

  Rory stands by a computer at the foot of our lane and starts poking at the keyboard. In the television screen above me, my name appears.

  “You’re up, Leah,” Rory says.

  I pick up the ball that Suzanne selected for me and toss it down the lane toward the pins. It’s not five feet from me before it makes a serious left hook and goes right into the gutter.

  “Well, that was awful,” I say.

  Suzanne is staring back at the pins in disbelief. “I’ve finally found the one thing you suck at.”

  I pinch her side, and she squeals.

  “Don’t look so happy about it.”

  “No, seriously. Other than playing music, which you are really bad at, you are the most driven person I know. Who would have known that bowling was your kryptonite?”

  I shake my head and then stick my tongue out at her. “Are you challenging me? Because I will not leave this place until I kick your ass in this game.”

  She holds out her hand. “You get two turns. Try again.”

  I take her hand. Then, I claim my ball that came up through the machine and march up to the line. This time, Suzanne stands next to me and shows me good form.

  “Put your fingers in the holes, and balance the ball on your palm. Hold it slightly to the right side of your body. Keep your knees bent, relax your shoulders, and put your left foot on the dotted line.”

  I try to mimic her, and this time, I knock down seven pins.

  “Yeah, baby!” I yelp.

  I do a victory dance on the lane to The Weeknd’s “Can’t Feel My Face.” The shoes might be wildly unattractive, but they’re perfect for dancing. I do my dance down the lane until I’m at the pins.

  I freeze when I hear Carolína’s voice over the loudspeaker. “No moonwalking on the lane.” She’s at the shoe rental counter with her head leaning down over a microphone.

  I do as she said and march my ass back to my seat.

  Suzanne and Rory offer me high fives and then take their turns.

  While I should be wondering what is happening with Adam and Jessica, I find myself having a great time. By the way, the weight of the ball has nothing to do with your actual weight.

  We order a pizza and eat in between turns.

  Suzanne is sharing stories of the women who come into the salon. “You think bartenders hear crazy stories, try being a hairstylist. People tell you their whole lives,” she says.

  We learn the McKennas are buying a time-share in Aruba, Conner Blander is going to Purdue on a full scholarship, Verona Napoli is having an affair with someone she works with at the post office, and there’s a new Starbucks opening on Main.

  Rory is telling jokes that are super corny and perfect for Suzanne’s taste. I’m happy they’re dating. Sue deserves a good guy in her life, someone who treats her like a princess and makes her smile. He seems genuinely happy to have her by his side. When he looks at her, you know everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him.

  Somewhere around the sixth frame, I get my first strike, and when I turn around for my congratulations, it’s to see that Suzanne and Rory are holding each other by the computer, foreheads brushed up together, and they’re smiling.

  A wave of melancholy passes over me. They’re in the midst of new relationship bliss. Every piece of information learned about the other is exciting, and the anticipation of what’s next makes every date fun. Every brush of the hand, look of the eye, and shy smile shared leaves you with goose bumps. They’re in this awesome phase of their relationship, and here I am, playing third wheel.

  When our tenth frame is over, I rise before the next game begins. “I’m gonna get out of here,” I say to Suzanne and Rory. “I’ll be at The Bucking Bronco if you wanna stop by after.”

  Suzanne tilts her head. “You sure?”

  I thumb toward the door. “Yeah. I just remembered I have to clean out the cooler.”

  She gives me a wary eye but doesn’t say another word. With a hug, she bids me good-bye and goes back to her date.

  It’s a weekday, so the streets are busy but not packed. Most people are home for dinner. The ice cream parlor is the busiest store on the street, followed by the candy shop that stays open late in the summer. The restaurants are lit up, but businesses like the dry cleaner and drug store are closed.

  For as big as my appetite for life is, my thirst for conventional small-town living is grand. I can’t imagine living anywhere but Cedar Ridge. We have a gorgeous Main Street with cobblestone sidewalks and gas lanterns lining the road. Our ten thousand residents like to shop, which has brought some brand-name clothing stores to
our strip. We have our own concert hall where Emma used to perform when she was a kid, a top-notch sports program that Luke played in, and a dance studio where I spent many days after school.

  A couple passes by with their hands entwined. They nod and wish me a good evening, which I return. My parents hold hands like that. My grandparents did, too. I know I don’t show it, but deep down, I really hope to find someone who wants to hold my hand. Growing up in a family that truly cares for one another shows you that finding the right partner to share your life with brings you nothing but joy.

  By the time I get to The Bucking Bronco, the place is pretty quiet. Anyone who came for an after-work drink has gone home. There isn’t a Reds game on or else we’d be packed. The TVs are showing the Pirates game, SportsCenter, and Fox News. I stop in the main office and go over expenses for the week. I do the payroll even though it’s not the day I usually do it. Paulie gave me full rein on the place two years ago when he made me manager. It’s how I know I’ll kick ass when running this business.

  Part of me wonders why he’s selling to me. I know I’m the right person for the job. It’s just that, when someone owns a business for as long as he has, you’d think he’d want to hand the keys off to someone with more experience, perhaps someone who wasn’t planning on revamping the place and giving it a new name.

  When he announced two years ago that he was gearing up to retire, I started campaigning. From a PowerPoint presentation that Luke helped me create to art renderings that Suzanne drew up, I had the perfect pitch for Paulie. I did all the financials myself, showing how much I could offer him up front and how I’d be able to pay him back monthly with interest for the remainder.

  He hasn’t considered offers from anyone else that I know of. The bar has always been mine.

  My prayer is that I won’t let everyone down. I know what I need to do to make this work, but there are so many external factors. Someone could get hurt and sue, or a new business could open down the road and take my customers with it. The kitchen staff could mess up my health code, a bartender could serve a minor, or a bouncer could let in the wrong kind of people.