by Clark, Kaisa
“Clausen!” A voice booms behind me. I snap my head around to face George, the head chef. He’s scowling at me over the line from behind three neatly arranged bowls of pasta. “Take your food already. I’m not making it again because you let it get cold.”
Once my tables have all cleared out for the day, I retreat to a back table for a late lunch. Annabelle pulls out the chair across from me. As she helps herself to a bite of my pasta, she meets my eye.
“I hope you’re ready to dance your pants off! It’s almost concert day. Bring on the boys!”
Annabelle and I have markedly different motives for attending concerts. I go to get lost in the music; she goes to get lost in a sea of hot, sweaty men. Suddenly she frowns over the table at me.
“Oh wait, I forgot. You’re taken.” Her eyes settle on Adam, who takes note of her pointed stare and starts in our direction from the opposite side of the restaurant.
I tear off a piece of bread and lob it across the table at her. “Far from it.”
“Isn’t all the action you got from that game earlier today the equivalent of like second base for you?”
“You’re freaking hilarious.” I mock. “I’d hate to see what you count as second base.”
She winks at me and gives two short pelvic thrusts against the table, then walks off to check on her remaining guests. Adam raises his eyebrows quizzically as he pulls out the chair next to mine and angles his body towards me.
“What was that about?”
“Annabelle and I are going to the Foster show this week. She’s practicing her sweet moves in advance.”
“No way! I’m so jealous!”
“Of her moves?”
He bursts out in deep, throaty laughter. It’s a warm, jubilant sound that seems to reverberate in the space around me. He’s back to being the Adam I know, the serious side I briefly witnessed at the host stand completely eradicated. “Trust me, I have way better moves than that.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” My eyes involuntarily flit over the length of him and I chastise myself for being so obvious.
Adam fiddles with his server book, slapping it against his open palm. “No, seriously, that’s going to be a badass show.”
“You should come,” I venture, knowing it’s a long shot. “Nothing can beat hanging out with me and Annabelle at a sweaty, outdoor concert.”
He leans forward to tap the book against my knee, eyes alight as he says, “I can’t think of anything better.”
For the first time ever I wish we didn’t joke all the time. I wish he were serious. I wish he actually meant it.
Chapter 4
Annabelle bursts through the door of my apartment on concert day, bubbling with excitement. “Let’s go! I’m ready to get this party started.”
As always she looks impeccable, her makeup perfectly set, her long blonde locks curled into loose waves she’s casually swept over one shoulder. She’s wearing a flowy tank top with shorts and ankle boots, looking the epitome of indie-trendy.
“You’re pulling out all the stops for the boys tonight, huh?”
“You know I never miss out on a golden opportunity to find The One,” she chuckles.
It’s a warm June evening, calm and clear, perfect for an outdoor concert up against the backdrop of the setting sun. Once inside the gate we split up, me pushing towards the front of the crowded pavilion and Annabelle making a drink run to one of the concession huts dotting the perimeter. When she finally finds me she’s clutching two plastic cups in dripping wet hands. She thrusts one of them towards me.
“Bad news for your sweet tooth. They only have beer.”
I grimace but take a long sip, letting the opening band’s music wash over me. I get lost in the rhythm, swaying with the crowd, bobbing my head to the beat. My mind goes blank and I dissolve into the lead singer’s aura. His lyrics are beautiful, elegant even, and I find myself wishing I could fit words together the way he does. Maybe then I could somehow find it in me to turn all this friendly banter with Adam into something more.
When the set ends and the music is fading away, unfurling me from its grasp, I realize I’m on my own. Annabelle has disappeared. I scan the crowd to get my bearings and finally spot her hanging on the arm of a skinny-jean-wearing hipster near the edge of the stage. That didn’t take long. I swear the girl can find date material anywhere.
As I glance up from Annabelle’s boy toy I catch sight of familiar tousled light brown hair near the edge of the crowd. Damien’s almond-colored eyes rove over the scores of people as he makes his way through the throng. Even here, at an indie concert, he looks every bit the all-American frat boy, sporting salmon-colored shorts, a crisp polo, and boat shoes. My heart thunders in my chest, my body suddenly aware of what this means. If Damien is around, Adam can’t be far.
“Lex!” A voice booms behind me. I can feel the grin spreading over my face before I even catch sight of him. Act casual Alexa. You see him all the time. Even so, it’s hard to ignore the pounding in my chest at seeing him unexpectedly outside of work. He’s wearing tan shorts and a navy V-neck: the least amount of clothes I’ve ever seen him in. Forearms and calves have never looked so good. I force my eyes to stay trained on his face to avoid gaping at his exposed clavicle, his sculpted biceps peaking from beneath his shirt, the way the thin material falls over the defined muscles of his chest.
“What up, girl?” He taps the lip of his plastic cup to mine. Even with his casual greeting, I can’t hide the swell of elation rising through me. I’m absolutely beaming.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask. It comes out a laugh.
He gestures towards the stage with the hand holding the beer. “I don’t know about you, but I came for the sunset.”
“Don’t go all soft on me now Big Dub,” Damien mutters, taking a large gulp of his beer as he joins us. As usual, a look of cool composure is etched on his face, in his stance, in the way he sips from his plastic cup.
The next band rushes onstage and the crowd begins to crush in around us. Adam sidesteps so he’s slightly behind me, shielding me from the press. My head is swimming, overwhelmed by the subtle contact of his chest against my shoulder. Instantly I’m wondering if the contact means anything, if he’d do this for any girl he thought needed his protection.
I try to distract myself from Adam by focusing on the lead singer. He's got a killer voice, deep and booming, and his lips curl into a self-assured smile as he belts out the chorus. His black t-shirt is damp with sweat already, clinging to his body. I should be swooning like every other girl here, but no matter how hard I try my mind keeps going back to Adam, to the way his body feels when it brushes against mine, to this sight of his head bobbing adorably to the beat in my periphery.
I chance a glance at Damien, hoping I’ll catch some clue about the meaning behind Adam’s proximity in his expression. As usual he looks indifferent, his cool exterior preventing emotion from ever landing long on his face. He watches the band with mild interest, slowly sipping his beer and scanning the crowd. He turns to leave briefly and returns balancing three fresh beers in his hands.
As the set progresses I relax into Adam’s presence, allowing myself to brush against him as I dance to the music. I can feel him begin to move with me, his hips swaying behind mine, our arms gently colliding in the air. When there's a particularly good beat, Adam drums it along my shoulder with his fingertips. I don't care if he’s just getting into the show; I savor every single touch singing softly over my skin.
By the time we've finished our beers, the group of guys to our left has downed at least three apiece. They’re growing increasingly obnoxious, bobbing ridiculously to the music and slurring the lyrics. As they jump and collide in a drunken mass, one of the guys stumbles backwards, his lit cigarette colliding with my forearm as he falls into me. He grabs for me in his stupor, trying to catch himself, and the cherry grinds deeper into my flesh. Adam reacts immediately, shoving the guy square in the shoulders so hard he flies backwards into his friends,
the force crumpling them to the ground like dominos.
I glance up at Adam’s face in surprise, stunned by how fast he reacted and how pissed he looks now. Gone is the happy-go-lucky guy with the winning smile and radiant eyes. Replacing them are features twisted into a grimace; his eyes are narrowed, ripe with malice. Everything about him is hard, from his expression, to his stance, to his arm rising once more to continue the onslaught. Damien catches Adam’s elbow in the air, moving in front of him, staring into his hardened gaze.
“It’s done, man. Let it go.”
Adam’s shoulders soften as he reaches for my arm and tugs me towards the edge of the crowd. He turns to shout back at me, “Come on, I’m getting you some ice.”
I glance back at Damien, unsure what to make of Adam’s outburst, still stunned by the rapid transformation I witnessed. Damien just shrugs and calls out, “I can’t take him anywhere.”
Adam is a man on a mission. He pulls me after him until we reach the nearest concession stand, then deposits me by a short cement retaining wall under a low-hanging tree while he retrieves some ice. The whole time he’s in line he keeps casting me concerned glances. My arm is screaming in pain, the burn making my whole arm throb, but every time his eyes connect with mine I feel a dizzying warmth spread from the pit of my stomach outwards, and I don’t even think about the burn at all.
Adam returns to me clutching a cup of ice. He leans against the concrete retaining wall beside me, carefully pouring ice cubes into a napkin. The last rays of sunlight are dipping over the horizon, the sky mostly dark overhead, sharpening the contrast between the deep pigment of his irises and the whites of his eyes. Far back from the stage the music is muted, the night surprisingly calm. He leans in closer to my side, his thigh connecting with mine as he carefully presses the ice to my forearm, soothing the burn. His touch is delicate, feather-light against my skin. After a minute he pulls the ice back to take a closer look at the mark, gently inspecting my arm.
“I’m sorry I let this happen, Lex.” His voice is a whisper. His eyes lock onto mine, deep and fixated. He looks so protective, so genuinely concerned. He presses the ice back to my skin, but he doesn’t look away. He doesn't sit back. He's still hovering right beside me, gently holding the ice in place, his thigh pressed to mine. I swallow hard, trying not to imagine what it’d feel like if he were to move just a little bit closer, if our sides were touching, then our arms, then our lips.
“Thank you, Adam,” I finally manage, the words coming out husky and low.
His lips lift into a half-smile, finally relaxing his expression, the tightness dissolving from his face. The creases around his eyes smooth, the furrow leaves his brow. There he is. My Adam.
I reach my free hand to take over the ice, figuring he's done enough, but he doesn’t let go. Our fingers barely connect, sending sparks radiating through my palms, spreading over my forearms and into my chest. I try to regulate my breathing, to keep it slow and even, but it's next to impossible with him pressed in beside me. His eyes meet mine and I can’t help but wonder. Can’t you see it, Adam? Can’t you see it that I want so much more? That your eyes and your smile are slowly becoming my everything?
“Alright, what’d you do to her?” Annabelle calls, emerging from the crowd with Damien following close behind her.
Adam immediately drops his gaze to the ground and shoves off the concrete retaining wall, like he’s been caught doing something wrong. Like being so close to me never should’ve happened. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and begins walking back towards the crowd. I try my best not to let my gaze follow after him, to not let my eyes reflect the sting at what felt like his rejection.
“You ready to get back out there?” Annabelle asks.
I nod and force a smile. “Let’s do it.”
Damien responds with a muttered, “That’s what she said,” as he follows after Adam.
Chapter 5
I have the early shift at the restaurant the next morning. I eagerly anticipate Adam’s arrival despite the uncertainty still shrouding me from last night’s concert. After rejoining the crowd, Adam kept a watchful eye but he never did let his body touch mine again. I still don’t know what to make of any of it. Of his coming out at all, of his protective outburst, of his distance.
When I first catch sight of him, he’s at the host stand talking with Brittney. She’s clearly in the midst of throwing her best game at him, her eyes bright and her smile wide. I cringe and turn away, eager to distract myself from the pang of jealousy welling in my stomach. Annabelle is waiting for me at the nearest computer screen. I begin entering my table’s order, trying to look unaffected by his presence, but even with my back to him he’s everywhere. He’s everything.
“I see you,” Annabelle muses, interrupting my thoughts.
“What?” I ask innocently, eyes fixed on the computer screen.
“Oh stop it, you like him.”
“What’s not to like, Annabelle?” I reply in a sultry voice. Always downplaying. Never saying out loud what he really means to me. Never taking the plunge, even with her.
“No, I mean you like him, like him. Not just I want to pull on his hair, like him, but actually think he’s an interesting person, like him.” She says the words interesting person slowly, as though she’s absolutely baffled.
I sigh with frustration, for once letting it bleed through. “Even if I do, we’re clearly just friends A-Bel. Didn’t you see how he couldn’t get away from me fast enough when you and Damien found us last night?”
“I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw a guy who was pissed you got hurt. I saw a guy who clearly cares what happens to you. I saw a guy who probably wanted to kiss you if I hadn’t interrupted him. That’s what I saw.”
I roll my eyes, wondering if she’s trying to make me feel better or if there’s any truth to what she says, and head to the bar to collect my table’s drinks. I know there’s no way Javier’s had a chance to make them yet, but maybe I can keep him company for a few minutes and keep my mind off Adam for even an instant. Javier’s by far my favorite bartender. He lives in the same apartment complex as me and regularly throws killer parties at his place.
As soon as I set foot in the bar, I can tell he’s slammed. He’s racing back and forth, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he eyes the latest round of drink orders. He sets to work mixing and pouring as fast as he can.
“Damn, Javi! Slow down back there!” I call out.
“Laugh it up. This is how I get my exercise.”
“You look like you’re going to need a trip to the pool after this.”
“You have no idea!”
Something shifts in my periphery and I look over to find Adam leaning against the bar next to me, his forearms supporting him.
“Hey,” he says brightly, nudging my shoulder with his. My skin sears through the fabric, ignited by the simple collision of his body against mine. I feel a deep neediness in my chest to feel him again, to make our bodies connect any way possible. Very slowly, I transfer my weight to the leg closest to him and exaggeratedly stretch my arms wide until they collide with his chest. He responds immediately by playfully kicking the back of my leg. I’m not expecting it and my knee juts forward into the bar.
He bursts out laughing. “Oh shit! Sorry!”
“Ha. Ha.” I reply dryly, attempting to tuck away my smile.
He scans my face, clearly amused, then takes a tiny spear, stabs an olive from the garnish tray, and hands it to me. “Here, peace offering.”
I pop the olive in my mouth and toss the little green spear over the bar, where it lands squarely in the trash bin.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, impressed with my shot. “Wow. Nothing but net!”
Javier still hasn’t finished making my drinks. I pick up a paper coaster and start spinning it on the counter in front of me to distract myself from staring dumbly at Adam’s face because it’s times like these when we’re joking and laughing when I wonder how he can’t possibly feel
this too. Adam reaches out and flicks the coaster mid-rotation. It goes sailing off the bar into the trash. My eyes widen in mock irritation and I toss a new coaster from the stack at his chest. He catches it midair, then takes a step back and shoots it fade-away style into the trash bin.
Javier eyes us severely from the other side of the bar and raises his arms in a what-the-hell gesture. “Seriously?”
Adam starts chuckling and ducks his head. “I don't even have drinks here. I just came to say hi.”
I laugh and scroll my eyes up to his face. ”Came to harass me is more like it.”
“Yeah, little bit.” He bites his lower lip, taps his hand on the bar, and returns to the dining room. I watch him walk the whole way back.
The lunch shift finally dies down and it isn’t long before Javier and I are lounging on beach chairs by the pool, drinks in hand. He checks the screen of his phone for the second time in as many minutes, so I ask, “What’s your deal? Are you expecting someone?”
“Adam overheard us talking earlier and wanted to come by. Guess he doesn’t have a pool and wanted to get some laps in.”
I almost drop my drink in my lap. “Adam’s coming? Here?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“You could’ve told me!” I shriek, tossing my towel at his head. I look down at the plain swimsuit I’m wearing, wishing I’d chosen something else for today. There’s never any reason for me to show off for Javier, but Adam’s a completely different story.
Javier catches the towel with one hand, keeping his drink perfectly still in the other. “Well Brittney’s coming too. As soon as she heard mention of Adam and a pool she practically begged me to let her come over.” He tosses the towel back on my chair. “Speak of the devil, there she is now.”
