by Cassia Leo
“Fine, but if you think you’re getting laid you’re going to be very disappointed. And if you try anything funny, I’m leaving and our date is off. Got it?”
He clasps his hands behind his back. “I wouldn’t dream of jeopardizing all the fun we’re going to have on our date.”
I toss my toothbrush and a few cleansing products into my makeup bag. The makeup bag gets thrown into my Roxy backpack with my bikini, a beach dress, and some gladiator sandals. When I come out of the bedroom, Senia is glaring at me from the other side of the breakfast bar.
“You going somewhere?”
“I’m going to hang out at Adam’s tonight so you and Eddie can be alone. We’re leaving early in the morning for whatever he has planned. I don’t want to wake you up getting ready.”
“You’re spending the night with him?”
“Not with him, just in his bed. He’s sleeping on the sofa.”
Saying the words aloud makes it sound so much worse than it sounded when I agreed to this five minutes ago with Adam breathing on my face.
“Claire, this is so not like you,” she says, rounding the breakfast bar toward me. “I love it!” She smiles hugely, showing off all her perfectly white teeth, then throws her arms around my shoulders. “I’m so proud of you.”
I pat her back a few times and she finally lets go. “This is not a big deal. We’re just hanging out. I am not sleeping with him.”
“I know. But it’s a start.” She kisses my forehead before I leave.
My heart pulses in every inch of my body as I climb the steps to Adam’s apartment. My feet are like concrete blocks attached to my legs as I grip the handrail and drag myself up the final step and stand before apartment B. I roll my shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension then take a deep breath and knock.
He answers the door immediately, as if he were standing on the other side impatiently waiting and watching through the peephole. The smile on his face makes my stomach flutter. He looks genuinely excited and somewhat relieved, as if he thought I might change my mind.
“Welcome back,” he says, waving me inside.
The lamps are lit inside his dazzling apartment bathing the space in a warm glow. Everything is still perfectly clean. The LCD TV affixed to the wall is set to MTV, but the volume is too low to hear. Nothing out of place—except maybe me.
“Can you change that?” I say, pointing at the TV. “I hate MTV.”
“You and I are not going to get along,” he says, closing the front door.
I don’t need to tell him the reason I’ve avoided watching MTV for nearly a year. I’m here to get past that, not dwell on it.
He snatches the remote from the black coffee table and changes it to the Discovery Channel. “Better?”
I nod and set my backpack on the floor next to the sofa. He immediately slides past me and snatches it up. “I’ll put that in the bedroom for you. Want to come see your room at Hotel Parker?”
“So hospitable,” I say as I follow him toward a dark hallway.
The hallway is short, just like our apartment downstairs, and he quickly flips the light switch as we enter his bedroom. He sets my bag down on the king-sized bed as I look around. As expected, his room is pretty enough to be a suite in a modern hotel.
“How much is this going to cost me?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Please don’t say stuff like that. There’s only so much teasing I can resist.”
It feels good to be able to joke around with him like this. It means I feel safe.
“We’d better go watch some Discovery Channel,” I suggest, and he nods. Yes, watching TV is safer than standing in his bedroom.
After twenty minutes of me silently swooning over Bear Grylls and him pointing out that Bear’s cameraman is the real hero of the show, he turns off the TV and looks at me.
“All right. It’s time to play a game,” he declares. “Question tennis. I ask you a question and you answer with a question, but it has to be relevant to what I asked. If you break the rhythm by not asking a question then you have to answer one question truthfully before the game can continue. Are you ready?”
“Leave it to you to find a game that allows you not to answer questions.”
“You are being afforded that same luxury, missy, so stop complaining. Okay, you go first.”
I pull my legs up onto the sofa and sit cross-legged as I face him. “What do you do for a living?”
“Does it really matter?”
“Does it really put you in a shitty mood?”
“Does that concern you?”
“It’s a simple question.”
“Ah-ha!” he shouts, pointing at me. “You messed up. Now you have to answer a question.”
I know what he’s going to ask, but I’m not the least bit worried because there’s no way I’m going to tell him just to comply with a stupid game.
“Go ahead.”
He smiles as he leans back against the arm of the sofa. “When did your last relationship end?”
This isn’t the question I expected, but I’ve come to realize that Adam rarely does anything I expect him to do.
I fidget with the loose threads of my cutoff shorts. “It ended almost exactly one year ago.”
“Why?”
“Nuh-uh. You got your answer. Now back to the game.”
“If you tell me why then I’ll tell you where I work.”
“That’s not an even trade.”
He leans forward. “I work for my dad. He owns a construction company in Wilmington. The company’s been in the family for more than a hundred years so it’s pretty much expected that I’m going to take over once my dad retires in a few years. I fucking hate it.”
His green eyes appear darker, harder as he stares at me and I can see that it upsets him just to talk about this. I know he’s waiting for me now, but all I can think of is how much I want to give him a hug. I want to tell him how well I know the fear of disappointing others. I want to tell him how familiar I am with the guilt that comes from making selfish decisions.
“My ex was offered his dream job and I was starting my sophomore year at UNC. He was going to be doing a lot of traveling, so I decided it would be best to break up so he could experience this new opportunity to the fullest. I didn’t want to weigh him down the way I had for more than four years.”
“Four years? So he was your first love?”
The muscles in my chest tighten at these two words. Chris was more than my first love. He was my first friend, my first family, my first heartbreak, and my deepest betrayal.
I nod as I inhale a deep breath. “I’m tired. I think I should go to bed.”
He nods solemnly. “You know where the bathroom is if you need to do any girly stuff. Feel free to pilfer my toiletries.”
I smile at his attempt to ease the tension then make my way to the bedroom to grab my makeup bag. As I pull it out of my backpack, a wave of nausea rolls through me. I sit on the bed to ride it out as sweat beads on my forehead. Hugging myself, I breathe deeply and close my eyes, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the pain of losing everything.
The creaky floor alerts me to Adam’s presence. I open my eyes to find him standing in the doorway.
“Do you need to meditate or do you need some company?”
“Can I answer that question with a question?” He nods and I draw in a shaky breath. “Can you stay with me tonight?”
He steps inside and slides onto the bed behind me. I look over my shoulder at him as he laces his fingers behind his head and lies back on the pillow.
“My hands will stay here all night or you have permission to post a video of me dancing to Justin Bieber on YouTube.”
I toss my makeup bag onto the floor and lie back on the pillow next to him. “Tell me a joke.”
He reaches toward the nightstand and turns off the lamp. For once, the darkness is comforting. I can pretend I’m talking to anyone.
“Corny or dirty?” he asks, settling back onto h
is pillow.
“Dirty,” I say, grateful that he can’t see my smile through the darkness.
He lets out a tiny huff of laughter. “Man, you are going to regret saying that.” He pauses a moment before he says, “When is an elf not an elf?”
“When?”
“When she’s sucking dick. Then she’s a goblin.”
I let loose a quick chuckle. “That’s corny, but still kind of funny.”
“You deserve the best of both worlds.”
The silence that follows his comment is painful. Finally, I turn onto my side to face him. The soft glow of the streetlamp shines through his curtains, outlining the silhouette of his perfect nose and lips. He turns to me and I can just barely glimpse his smile through the darkness.
“Maybe we should go to sleep now,” I whisper, my voice sounding somewhat strangled by the power of his presence.
“Yeah, we have to get up early.” He moves to get up and I grab his arm.
“You don’t have to go.”
He slowly settles back onto the bed, a little closer to me than he was before. I can feel the heat of his shoulder next to my face. He lifts his arm and I realize he’s inviting me to cuddle with him. My heart pounds as I scoot toward him, drape my arm over his chest, and lay my head on his solid shoulder. He wraps his arm around me and gives my shoulder a light squeeze.
“Sweet dreams, Claire.”
“Goodnight, Adam.”
Chapter Eight
Relentless Competition
I wake with Adam’s gray T-shirt clenched in my fist and a large crack of summer sunrise illuminating the humid air in the bedroom. His chest is hot and steamy against my cheek as it rises and falls slowly beneath me. I hold my breath as I slowly loosen my grip on his shirt. He lets out a soft grunt and I freeze.
I take in a measured breath as I move my hand, slower this time. The moment I begin to lift my head he shifts his weight, tightening his grip on my shoulder. It can’t be that early and he did say we were leaving at nine.
Ah, fuck it.
I push off his chest to sit up. His eyebrows scrunch up as he opens his eyes. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know, but you said we were leaving early so I figured we should probably get up and get ready.”
He squints at me through the hazy morning light and my breath catches in my throat. He looks way too adorable with his hair sticking out in million different directions.
“Well, aren’t you a vision in the morning,” he says, with a sly grin.
I reach up and feel my hair plastered to the right side of my head with sweat. The left side is sticking out several inches. I start to smooth it down and he yanks me down on top of him, ruffling my hair some more.
“Hey!” I squeal as I wrestle myself from his grip.
He laughs as he sits up and makes his way to the window to open the blinds just enough so the light penetrates the curtains, washing everything in the room, including him, in a creamy glow.
“You can take a shower first. I’ll make you some breakfast while you wash up.”
“Mac n’ cheese again?” I say as I slide off the bed and grab the purple makeup bag I tossed onto the floor last night.
“You should be so lucky. Nah, just a plain, old smoothie this time. We’re gonna eat some kickass barbecue later. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“I love animals,” I reply, solemnly. “Especially when they’re cooked.”
He chuckles as he walks past me and I’m struck by how comfortable I feel here, like sleeping over at my hot neighbor’s house is something I do often. Does this make me a slut? No, we haven’t even kissed yet. Most people would have kissed by now. Is that a bad sign?
“Hey, just a heads up,” I say as I come out of the bedroom, stopping in front of the bathroom door. “I’m probably going to meditate in there, but I promise I’ll make it quick.”
“You can meditate out here. We can do it together.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ll put some extra roofies in your smoothie to help you relax.”
“Aw… that’s so thoughtful.”
He shrugs modestly and I have to keep myself from sighing at how cute he looks. “Like I said before, only the best for Claire.”
I shake my head as I enter the bathroom, which looks just like our bathroom downstairs. I take a quick shower, thanking myself for remembering to bring my own body wash and shampoo after I see his man-scented bath products. After I brush my teeth and hair and put my bikini on underneath my dress, I exit the bathroom to find him sitting cross-legged on the rug in the living room. The coffee table has been pushed aside to make room for us and he’s wearing a serene smile.
I set my makeup bag on the breakfast bar and place my hands on my knees as I sit across from him. “I’m going to picture the ocean. You don’t have to tell me what you’re going to meditate on.”
“I wasn’t planning to tell you,” he replies.
“Good because I don’t want to know.”
“I’m sure you can guess, though.”
“I’m sure I can, but I won’t.”
I shake my head as I take a deep breath, ignoring the sexy grin on his face as I close my eyes. I expel the breath slowly and imagine that all my worries about Chris and college are being pushed out at the same time. Drawing in another deep breath, I imagine standing on the beach, breathing in the salty air as the ocean waves roll in. I breathe out and focus my attention on a sailboat floating on the distant surface of the ocean. The jagged silhouette of the boat bobs against the skyline and I imagine the motion of the water carrying me out to sea on that boat, so far that I can no longer see the shore. I lie back on the deck of the boat and gaze at the blue sky above me. The clouds swirl in and out of view behind the giant sails. I close my eyes and allow the boat to rock me gently, swaying and pitching softly up and down as my tension melts away.
I open my eyes and Adam’s eyes are still closed. I wait a moment until his eyelids flutter open and he lets out a deep sigh.
“Man, that feels good. I can see why you’re addicted to this.”
“I’ve never meditated with anyone other than Fallon, and that was only a couple of times. This is different, but cool.”
He shakes his head as he looks at the floor between us. “Okay, I lied. I didn’t meditate. I stared at you the whole time.” He reaches across the space between us and grabs my hand. “But it did feel good.”
“You’re such a sleaze,” I say, smacking his hand away. “Go take a shower.”
He takes a quick shower, makes us each a strawberry-banana smoothie, and we’re out the door within thirty minutes.
We’re walking down the steps outside his apartment when I have a mini-epiphany. “Wait a minute. You work at a construction company and you don’t know how to light a pilot on a stove?”
I glance over my shoulder and he grins sheepishly. “I wanted to give you a chance to show off.”
“How generous,” I mutter as we reach the landing and I set off toward his truck.
He grabs my hand and I’m yanked backward. “We’re walking to the beach.”
“You’re taking me to the surf tournament?”
“The Summer Swell Pro-Am. It’s the only one in this area and it’s today.”
“Where’s your surfboard?” I ask, when we reach the sidewalk.
I don’t bother to mention that he’s still holding my hand and just as this thought crosses my mind he threads his fingers through mine.
“I’m not surfing. Today we’re watching the pros.”
We make it to the corner of Charlotte and Lumina and I’m suddenly aware of all the pedestrians on their way to the tournament. I’m hyperaware that Adam and I must look like a couple. I hit pause on my love life so many months ago; I almost forgot what it feels like to be a couple in public. Girls in short shorts pass us as we cross the street and some of them make no attempt to hide their ogling. I glance up at Adam to see if maybe he’s egging them on, but his gaze is f
ixed straight ahead to where Charlotte opens onto the beach.
The street is packed with tourists in shorts and visors and, with no sidewalks, they all roam through the middle of Charlotte Street laughing and talking among themselves. When we reach the sand, I glimpse the bleachers constructed on the beach. Off in the distance, I see a stage where people are already squeezing in against the platform as sound equipment and instruments are set up for a concert. The briny smell of the ocean hits me as a breeze sweeps over us, lifting the hairs that hang loose from my ponytail and making my skin prickle. The sand is warm on the surface but cool when my feet sink down. I haven’t been to the beach in a couple of weeks and I always avoid the beach during big events like this.
My hand is getting sweaty. I feel an intense urge to let go of Adam’s hand to wipe the sweat on my hip, but I don’t. Being uncomfortable is part of being on a date, right? Like holding in your farts when you’re in a new relationship. It’s a necessary evil. Suddenly, I think of the first time I farted in front of Chris and I can’t help but smile.
“Why are you so happy?” Adam asks as we trudge across the sand toward the bleachers.
“I’m thinking of how sweaty my hand feels right now.”
He grips my hand tighter. “Too bad. I’m not letting go.”
“I’ll never let go, Jack,” I whisper dramatically, and he shakes his head.
“You jump, I jump,” he replies, and I laugh.
“You love Titanic,” I tease him. “You know, that first day I saw you in the café, I kept calling you Jack Dawson in my head.”
“Do I look that old to you?”
“No, and you’re much better looking than him, anyway.”
“You’d better watch out, Claire,” he says as we climb the steel steps up to the bleachers. “If you keep saying stuff like that I’m going to be forced to take you into the water for a swimming lesson.”
“I know what that means and I would never. There are a million people out here.”
We sit at the end of a bench a few rows down from the top and the steel bench is hot against the backs of my legs.
