Surviving Adam Meade

by Shannon Klare

  “Didn’t work,” he said, staring at the tickets as he approached us. “Tried to get our seats switched so we’re all beside each other, but the plane is full. Right now, we have two seats at the front and one in the middle of the plane. If you want, the pair of you can take the seats at the front.”

  “I want the window seat,” I said, looking at Adam.

  “That’s fine. I need an aisle seat anyway. If not, I’ll be stiff when we get there.”

  “Great,” my dad said, handing us tickets before heading to security.

  “Have I told you how awesome your dad is?” Adam asked, watching him as he left. “Because he’s seriously one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.”

  “Remember that when he starts singing Broadway songs,” I replied. “Nothing on this planet can save you from a Mark Collins cover.”

  Charlotte International was crowded. I expected a handful of people, but the security line was already twenty deep. I got in line in front of Adam and waited my turn. When I was up, I placed my polka-dot carry-on on the conveyor, slid off my ankle boots, and tossed my jewelry into a plastic bin beside them. Two seconds later, I was through to the other side.

  Adam was next, but the metal detector beeped on his first step through.

  “You broke it,” I said. “Way to go.”

  He frowned at me and took a step back, waiting for permission before he tried to pass through again. When he set off the metal detector a second time, one of the TSA agents came over. Adam stared at him, brow furrowed.

  “Any metal objects?” the agent said.

  “No, sir,” Adam replied. “I had hand surgery when I was younger. There’s a permanent set of screws in my left hand and a rod in my wrist, but I didn’t think it would set off the detector.”

  “Medical ID card?” the guy questioned.

  “No, sir.”

  “Ever flown before?”

  “No, sir.”

  “If you’re flying, you need to get one.”

  The agent escorted Adam to another area as my dad passed through the detector. “Meade’s having a hard time,” he said, pulling his shoes from the conveyor. “Can you wait here for him? I want to check the gate and make sure our plane isn’t delayed.”

  “Yeah. We’ll meet you at the gate.”

  I put my ring on, slid the bracelet over my wrist, and put on my boots. When Adam finally made it through, he grabbed his stuff and took a seat beside me.

  “Didn’t know you had hand surgery when you were younger,” I said. “Was it football related?”

  “It’s a long story,” he replied. He tied his shoes, stood, and lifted his shirt to put his belt on. The scar I saw at the lake showed above his waistband, long and jagged against tanned skin. “Where’s your dad?” he asked.

  “He went to check the flight status.”

  Adam nodded and grabbed my duffel from the floor. Once both of our bags were slung over his shoulder, he extended his hand. “I need coffee,” he said. “You up for some?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We located the closest Starbucks and sipped it while we waited to board.

  “Riley talk to you about the bet?” he asked, glancing at me over his cup.

  I cringed. “Please tell me she didn’t bring that up.”

  “She did,” he said. “There’s about fifty bucks involved. Twenty from her, betting we’ll get together, twenty from Tate betting we won’t, and ten from me saying we will but it won’t last.”

  “Lovely,” I answered, shaking my head.

  “My thoughts are we get together, then break up, so I win,” Adam explained. “We can take the money and split it. What do you say?”

  “That’s brilliant!” I replied.

  He chuckled and finished his coffee, flagging my dad over as he returned to the gate.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were passing through an enclosed tunnel. When we reached our seats, the plane was already half full. Adam volunteered to put the bags in the overhead compartment.

  “Push harder,” I said, feigning a smile at the grumpy old people waiting to get by. Adam glared at me over his shoulder. “Please.”

  “You want to do it?” he replied.

  He shifted his body so he was more in the seat. It allowed the older people room to get by. They grumbled at him as they passed through the little space available.

  “Blame this one,” he said. “She had to pack thirty pairs of shoes. I told her she only needed one pair, but she’s so stubborn and refuses to listen to—”

  My elbow connected with his abs, and he sucked in a breath.

  “Oops,” I said.

  “You’ll be saying oops when I tell the flight attendant you’re being violent,” Adam replied. He shifted back into the aisle and tried the bag again. With one hard push, he crammed it into the tiny space. “Victory!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

  He dropped into the seat beside me. With people still filing through the plane’s open doors, he had no choice but to keep his long legs between our seat and the one in front of us. His knees were almost to his chest.

  “Need more room?” I said, smiling.

  “That’s an understatement.”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket as Wanda’s name lit up the screen. Rather than reading the text over his shoulder, I looked out the window.

  Outside, darkness was starting to give way to the morning. Hues of orange and gold streaked across the horizon, fading away the stars. I was still focused on the sunrise when the plane started to pull away from the gate. Adam leaned over my lap, his voice a distraction from the view outside.

  “This is where they come out, right?” he asked.

  I blinked at him, confused.

  “The air mask things,” he said. “Do they drop from here? Also, do they automatically help you breathe or is there more?” The plane stopped, and his attention darted to the window. “Why did we stop? Is there something wrong?”

  “There’s a flight in front of us that hasn’t left yet,” I answered. “We have to wait our turn.”

  “Right. I knew that.”

  “Sure you did.” I surveyed him and saw the tension in his jaw and the stiffness in his demeanor. “Forgot to mention this was your first time flying? Scared?”

  “Ha. You wish.”

  He leaned across me, smelling of body wash and laundry detergent. He was a blanket of warmth, and his forearms rested against the top of my thighs as his eyes swept the sky.

  His breathing grew rapid as the plane began to move again, readying for takeoff.

  “How fast is this going to go?” he whispered. “Is it zero to sixty or is it a slow increase?”

  The plane increased its speed and raced down the runway. Adam’s eyes shut as he released a shaky exhale.

  “I can’t do this,” he muttered. “I can’t do this.”

  “Thought you said you weren’t scared.”

  “I lied.”

  His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and his grip was so tight on the armrest I was afraid it would crack.

  I rested my hand against the top of his knuckles. “Give me your hand,” I said. “We’ll be in the air in a matter of seconds. Outside of the landing, takeoff is the hardest part.” His fingers wrapped around the top of my hand, shaking and sweaty against my skin. “Good. Now ask me a question. It can be whatever you want, just nothing super personal.”

  “W-why?” he stammered.

  “Just do it.”

  The plane shook a little, and Adam exhaled sharply. “Why do you want to go to Auburn?” he asked. “Is there a reason, or is it just a school you picked?”

  I hesitated. There was more than one answer to that question. “My grandpa was a fan,” I said after a moment. “He introduced me to Auburn when I was eight. I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

  “Did he graduate from there?”

  “No. He grew up outside Tuscaloosa and was raised on Alabama. If he would’ve gone anywhere, it probably would’ve been there.
”

  “Then why did he like Auburn?”

  I shrugged. “During his rebellious phase, he decided to switch football allegiance to their biggest rival—Auburn.”

  “He became an Auburn fan just to irritate his family?” When I nodded, Adam chuckled. “Sounds like a pretty headstrong guy.”

  “He was.”

  The rubber Auburn bracelet sat flush against my skin. The second reason, while less significant, hung over my head like a ton of bricks. I considered telling Adam, but the flight attendant announced use of all approved electronic devices. He quickly pulled a set of earbuds from his pocket, and hit the music app.

  “You working on scholarship stuff?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He started his music, and I reached for my tote. There was more to the Auburn story, but I’d lost the opportunity to come clean. I’d let the moment slip away, knowing the truth would eat away at me.

  I glanced at Adam again, and my stomach knotted. Maybe it was easier this way. If we didn’t work, I’d never have to tell him at all.

  “Claire?”

  “Yeah?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

  “Thanks for distracting me.”

  “Anytime.”

  13

  Trouble

  Auburn was beautiful. Covered with aged red-brick buildings, lush green lawns, and students hanging out, the campus was everything I hoped it would be and more.

  With the semester in full swing, the Student Center buzzed with people. The scent of coffee filled the air and mixed with the greasy aroma of pizza. Through large windows, warm sunshine heated my skin. I felt at home, sipping Starbucks through a green straw while my newest Auburn additions sat beside me on the floor.

  Auburn was my future. All I had to do was graduate, and I’d be here for good.

  “You look like you could use some company.” My cheeks warmed as I spotted Adam strolling toward me. “Unless another guy called this seat,” he said. “In which case, tell him I said to eff off.”

  He plopped into the seat beside me and rested his arm behind my shoulder.

  “Why aren’t you in meetings?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee. “Thought you two were busy all day.”

  “We are,” he answered, “but I wanted to see you.”

  “My bullshit meter is firing on all cylinders,” I replied. “Why are you really here?”

  “Because I wanted food, and there’s a Chick-fil-A on this floor,” he answered.

  “That excuse I believe.” I poked the Auburn lanyard around his neck. It blended with his blue polo. “You two tour the stadium?” I asked. “Get a behind-the-scenes look at Tiger football?”

  “We did.”

  “And?”

  He shrugged. “It’s nice, but I’m still checking out my other options. Clemson and Alabama are on the radar, too.”

  My eyes darted around the room. “Don’t say that word around here,” I whispered. “They’ll throw you out before you even get in.”

  “Which word? Alabama?” I nudged him in the side, and he laughed. “You might like it here, but Auburn doesn’t seem like the right fit for me. I’m free to say Alabama all I’d like.”

  My brow furrowed at his dismissal of Auburn. “What’s wrong with Auburn?” I asked. “This is a nice school.”

  “It’s a great school,” he agreed.

  “Then what’s the problem?” I replied.

  “Nothing, but I still have other football programs I need to check out. I’m keeping my options open.” He leaned forward and pulled something from the back of his waistband. I sipped my coffee, quiet as he scanned my face. “You look pissed,” he said, fidgeting with a piece of paper. “What did I do and how do I fix it?”

  “I’m not pissed,” I said. “I’m annoyed.”

  “Why?”

  “No school compares to Auburn,” I answered.

  “That’s your opinion. I have mine.”

  “Your opinion is wrong,” I said, forcing a smile. “I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

  “Really?” Adam cocked his head to the side, his jaw tight. “Just because I disagree with you doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Quit trying to force Auburn on me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” He frowned, his gaze unwavering. “Why do you care about my opinion anyway? You’re coming here regardless.”

  “I care because of this,” I answered, waving my hand between us.

  Adam paused and his mouth pursed. He looked like he was fighting an answer. His hesitation made me want it more.

  “Say it,” I said. “Whatever’s floating around in your head, just say it.”

  “This is why I wanted to keep it simple,” he said.

  He stood and handed me the piece of paper, but I was stuck on his words.

  “We passed simple a long time ago,” I answered, standing as well.

  “I’m not doing this with you,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “I have other football things to do today, and I need to be thinking about the game. Not you.”

  “Then leave.”

  He left the Student Center, and I sat back down and finished my coffee, seething as my fingers ran over the neon piece of paper. He had some nerve. We agreed on simple, but we were past that. Why was this an issue now?

  Confused, I rubbed my temples. What should’ve been a good time exploring campus turned into an afternoon concentrated on Adam Meade. My trip to Auburn had somehow turned into a drama-filled nightmare.

  The sun was going down when I met him and my dad on the concourse. Adam trailed behind us, his eyes on his phone. I ignored him. If he wouldn’t look at me, I wouldn’t talk to him.

  The ride to the hotel was so tense that even my dad seemed to feel it. He glanced at me across the console, looked at Adam in the rearview mirror, then back at me.

  “You two headed to dinner before your thing?” he asked.

  I arched a brow. “What thing?”

  “The neon run,” Adam said quietly from the back seat.

  I turned and stared at him while my dad pulled the car into the hotel parking lot.

  “Okay,” my dad answered. “Great conversation.” He opened his door and stepped into the cool afternoon, leaving Adam and me alone.

  “What neon run?” I asked as soon as the door shut.

  “The one I gave you the flyer for,” Adam replied.

  I fished around my tote for the paper. I hadn’t looked at it after our talk at the Student Center. I scanned the information while Adam slid out of the car.

  “A 5K?!” I shook my head and followed Adam, matching his pace as he crossed rows of cars. “You want me to run a 5K?!” I said. “Uh-uh. The last time I ran for distance was in the eighth grade. You can clock me on a calendar!”

  “There’s a party, too,” Adam answered, his eyes ahead. “I wanted to take you, before you got pissed at me for no reason.”

  “I had a reason,” I said, lowering my voice.

  “Really? Please enlighten me because I obviously missed it.”

  “You started this,” I replied. “You kissed me, remember? You’re the one who asked me to go to your grandma’s house. You’re the one who invited me to Tate’s. You always call me first. You always do everything first. You initiated all of this, and I’m sorry, but I took that to mean you like me. That might have been a mistake on my part, but don’t tell me to keep it simple when you’re the one who made it complicated. If you don’t want me, don’t lead me on.”

  “I don’t know what I want.”

  “Then you need to figure it out because I’m not going to wait around for you.”

  My strides were long against the asphalt, purposeful and determined. It hurt me to say that to him, to see the shock settle on his face, but I was tired of being the fragile girl who waited on a guy. Maybe I could credit that to Auburn, or maybe Claire Collins was becoming herself again. Either way, I wasn’t a pushover. The sooner Adam realized that, the better.

  * * *

&nbs
p; A documentary played on the television, drowning my dad’s snores as he slept on the bed across from me. The room smelled of freshly laundered sheets, but I munched on Cheetos, which severely muddled their cotton scent.

  My phone was loud as it rattled against the nightstand.

  Adam: Be ready in five

  The breath caught in my chest. I hadn’t expected to hear from him until the next morning. Even then, I expected him to be more frigid than Antarctica.

  Claire: Be ready for what?

  Adam: The run

  I stood, my stomach churning as I walked to the bathroom and caught a look at myself in the mirror. From my tired blue eyes and wayward ponytail to my newly purchased Auburn sweatpants, I looked like a hot mess.

  My feet crossed the carpet, and I grabbed my phone before tugging my duffel off the floor.

  Claire: Ten minutes

  Adam: Seven

  I traded my sweatpants for a pair of shorts, tossed on a Pader High football tee, and tugged on my socks. I was reaching for a hairbrush when a fist rapped against the room’s heavy door.

  My dad’s snore broke off as he raised himself up on his forearm. “Yeah, I’m awake,” he muttered.

  “It’s only Adam,” I replied.

  “Oh. Never mind.”

  He rolled onto his stomach, and I checked the peephole to make sure I was right. Adam stood on the other side, dressed in a gray T-shirt and black athletic shorts. He sighed, glanced at the door again, then covered the peephole with his palm.

  “Quit staring at me and get out here,” he said through the door.

  “My dad’s sleeping,” I answered, tugging it open. “Be patient.”

  “I am being patient. You’re the one who’s two minutes late.” I scowled and he rolled his eyes. “The thing starts after sundown, and it’s already six. I don’t want to miss it.”

  “Then you should’ve given me more than seven minutes to get ready,” I answered.

  “You’re already gorgeous. Didn’t think it would take you much time.”

  I paused, ignoring the fluttering of butterflies that ran through me. This was exactly my point. Adam tossed out stupid flattering comments but expected me to keep things simple. He was setting me up for failure.