Calm Like Home

by Clark, Kaisa

  I look up to see Brittney traipse in through the pool gate. She has on a skimpy white bikini, a giant white sun hat, and oversized sunglasses. My heart sinks, knowing where Adam’s attention will likely be. I watch as she quickly scans the chairs.

  “Where’s Adam?” she demands.

  “He’s not here yet. Chill out,” Javier calls back.

  At his comment she visibly relaxes. She makes her way over to us and reclines into the pool chair on the other side of Javier. As she settles in, she removes a bright pink beach towel from her beach bag, along with her cell phone and a bottle of water, and meticulously arranges them around her. She sets to work blowing up an inflatable air mattress then tosses it in the deep end of the pool.

  “This should get interesting,” Javier mutters as Adam pushes open the pool gate.

  “What up?” Adam calls as he approaches us, clapping Javier’s hand. “Thanks for the invite, man. Somehow I haven’t been in a pool since I’ve been back.”

  His eyes shift to meet mine and he takes a seat on the end of my lounge chair, stooping to pull a beer from the case of Miller Lite he carried in. “Beer?”

  “This is pretty high class for a frat boy,” I josh, taking the beer from his outstretched hand. A beer has never looked so good. “Shouldn’t you be drinking Natty Ice or something?”

  He chuckles. “I get enough of that shit during the school year.” He lowers his voice, leans in, and eyes me conspiratorially, adding, “But you better not tell anyone. If word gets out they might toss me out of the house.” He clinks the neck of his bottle to mine and takes a long swig.

  “Hey, Adam,” Brittney singsongs from her chair.

  “Hi, Brittney. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  I measure his delivery, trying to gauge whether there’s any hint of enthusiasm in his voice. I’m still scrutinizing his greeting when he hops up off my lounge chair. He pulls his gray V-neck up over his head and drops it back on the chair behind him. As bad as I want to reach out and smell it, to wrap it all around me, I save myself the embarrassment because I can’t seem to move. I can barely find it in me to breathe. Adam is shirtless. He’s standing right in front of me, and holy hell, he’s half-naked.

  Seemingly oblivious to my captivation, he saunters over to the pool and dives in. As he swims laps across the pool, the sunlight glints off his chiseled arms and back. I have no doubt Brittney is probably just as astounded as I am, but I can’t tear my eyes away long enough to look.

  After completing several laps, he pulls himself out of the pool and runs a hand through his wet hair.

  “Oh shit, I forgot a towel,” he calls, walking over to me. “Let me grab yours.”

  I cast him a blank look, unmoving, wanting to prolong the view as long as possible. He doesn’t need a towel. He should be gloriously wet and shirtless always.

  Having reached my chair, he cocks an eyebrow and leans over me, placing one hand on either armrest so the water droplets cascade off his wet body and onto mine. There’s a light breeze and the drops splash cool against my skin.

  “Ahh, get away!” I squeal, finally pushing my towel into his chest, feigning conviction. But how could I ever want him to go?

  Clutching the towel with one hand, he runs the fingers of the other through his still dripping hair and flicks the water at me. His face breaks into that easy smile.

  “A little water never hurt anybody. Come on, get in the pool with me.”

  “I’ll go!” I hear Brittney cry out. She sashays to the shallow end and pokes her toes into the water.

  “See. Brittney’s coming,” he says, eyes dancing over mine. He holds a hand out to pull me up.

  Javier sets his beer at the edge of the pool and takes a running jump into the deep end, sending splashes of water everywhere. Brittney shrieks and covers her hair.

  “All right,” I relent, sweeping my own hair into a ponytail to keep it from getting wet. He grasps my hand and pulls me from the chair. I carry the beer, his beer, with me and follow him onto the pool steps, where he takes a seat.

  “So, Adam,” Brittney says flirtatiously. “What’re you doing next weekend?”

  “You know me. I’m up for whatever.”

  “I’m having some people over. You should come.”

  “Definitely,” he says, taking another swig of his beer.

  I scan his face, trying to ascertain his motives. I can’t help but feel a sharp stab of jealousy that he’ll be hanging out with her and that it was so easy for her to ask. I could never.

  Javier begins to make his way to the deep end of the pool where Brittney’s peacefully floating on her air mattress. An ornery expression crosses over his face and he brings a finger to his lips. He slams his hands into the water behind her, sending a shower of water cascading every which way. Brittney is drenched. She lets out a cry of surprise and we all burst out laughing, except her.

  “Cut it out, Javier.” Her tone is icy, not at all masking her distaste.

  Adam makes a face at her hostile response and presses his cold beer bottle against my arm. I move to do the same to him, but he slides forward into the water just out of my reach. He grabs my foot and tugs me off the steps towards him. That simple connection of skin on skin sings through me. All I can think is don’t let go.

  When he finally releases me, I set my beer bottle on the edge of the pool and slide further into the water near him. He bobs just out of reach, his eyes daring me to retaliate as his hands grab at my limbs beneath the water. When he reaches for my foot the next time, I playfully splash him, just a little.

  “I see how it is!” he jokes, wrapping a firm arm around my stomach and dragging me deeper into the pool. I pretend to struggle from his grasp, writhing and squirming, loving the feel of his wet body sliding slickly against my own.

  As we wrestle in the water, I make an attempt to push his head under the water, feebly locking my arms over his shoulders and pressing down. His arms encircle me, pulling me into his chest, and he dunks me with him. So much for keeping my hair dry.

  I come up slightly breathless, from our scuffling, from his touch. I’m bobbing just in front of him now, my eyes glued to his. I can see his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes. I watch as droplets of water drip from his hair down to his shoulders. I know I should look away, should say something lighthearted or funny, but I can’t seem to break my reverie. And the whole time, he never once shifts his attention from me. I know what he must see. I’m waterlogged and makeup-less in my plain, black bikini. My impromptu ponytail didn’t survive and my hair is soggily draped over one shoulder, clinging to my face and chest and arms. There’s no way I’m making much of an impression right now.

  Adam grins and slowly raises a hand from beneath the water, reaching it towards my face. His index finger peels back a wet strand of hair, sending shockwaves radiating from my temple to the pit of my stomach. If one finger can cause this reaction, I wonder what his lips can do, what ecstasy his whole body can elicit.

  He withdraws his hand and I manage to breathe out a thank you.

  “Well it was kind of my fault,” he chuckles.

  I feel my own face brighten in response to his. “Kind of?”

  His hand finds mine beneath the water, his thumb brushing over the pads of each of my fingertips. “Come on. You’re getting all pruned.” He gestures towards the nearby ladder and I follow him out of the pool, completely soaked, completely drained, and completely happy.

  The two of us settle side by side on the lounge chairs, drying off in the warmth of the sun. I sweep my wet hair back into a ponytail, knowing it will dry a wavy mess now that I’ve been soaked. Adam’s only ever seen it neatly straightened. I don’t want to scare him off.

  “I don’t know, Lex,” he says, handing me a fresh beer. “Based on what I saw out there I’m not convinced you can actually swim.”

  I point my chin up and make my voice haughty and arrogant. “I assure you I can, Westbrook.”

  “I bet if I hadn’t dragged
you to the deep end you never would’ve made it over there.”

  “You’ve got me there.” I take a sip from the bottle he handed me. Beer from Adam just tastes better.

  “I’m going to need some proof, you know, for safety. You really shouldn’t be out there if you can’t swim.” He’s chuckling now, looking at me sideways from his lounge chair.

  “I’m not even dry yet and you’re already trying to get rid of me?”

  His expression softens. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  I’m examining his face for any hint of sarcasm when his phone flashes to life between our two chairs. All light instantly drains from his face when he checks the screen. I wonder who could be calling that would elicit such a reaction. He hops off the chair and walks to the far end of the pool enclosure, pacing back and forth as it rings. It’s almost like he’s psyching himself up to take the call, slightly bobbing his head and palming the phone before finally saying hello.

  “Yeah, well, what else is new?” His voice is clipped and harsh as he responds to the caller. I can’t quite tell whether he’s disappointed or angry or annoyed. The tone is completely at odds with the light way he speaks to me, like laughter is never far from his lips. Just like the night at the concert, the change in him is instantaneous. One instant he’s my Adam, light and playful, the next he’s someone else entirely. I can’t help feeling like I only know half the man. I want to know more. I want to know it all.

  He listens briefly then shakes his head, his voice growing more agitated. “It’s probably not even worth her time. I honestly don’t know why you bothered in the first place.” He’s pacing near the gate now, clapping his open palm against the wrought iron with increasing fervor. When I glimpse his profile, his whole face is tight, the skin fiercely pinched together at the bridge of his nose. I glance back to Javier and Brittney in the pool, feeling guilty for listening in on his call yet unable to focus on anything else.

  “I know how fucking precious your time is.” He stoops to sit on the furthest chair, his back to me.

  “Yeah, well, thanks a lot.”

  Suddenly he’s stalking back towards me. His eyes are fixed firmly ahead, burning with ferocity. He’s gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles are strained white. For an instant I wonder if the screen might break under the pressure.

  He slings his V-neck over his shoulder and mutters, “I gotta go.” His voice is flat, his eyes refusing to meet my own. “Javier, I trust you can take care of these?” He gestures towards the remaining beer bottles.

  “Is everything okay?” I look up at him with questioning eyes, wanting to stop him, to somehow return the smile to his face. Adam should never be without his smile. It seems wrong. But he just shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. Then he’s taking long strides out of the pool enclosure, not looking back even once, heat practically radiating off his entire body as the wrought iron gate slams shut behind him.

  That night I head to Annabelle’s and collapse onto her couch. We sip wine and watch whatever reality TV reruns come on.

  Mid-dramatic episode, I interrupt her concentration. “So, we had a pool excursion.”

  “What?” she turns to me, eyes agape. “You were going to let me watch this crap when you had your own drama to share?”

  I smirk and take a silent sip of my wine.

  “Well spill it.”

  I tell her about the beer, about Adam stealing my towel, about him hauling me to the deep end. She shrieks and hugs a couch pillow to her chest when I tell about him brushing back my wet hair.

  “The only thing is…” I trail off. “Brittney was there too.”

  “So what,” she says flatly.

  “So she asked him to hang out next weekend and he said definitely.”

  “What kind of hang out?” Now she’s intent, blue eyes blazing.

  “I don’t know. She said she’s having people over.”

  “Well of course he said definitely.”

  I gaze at her blankly, unsure what she means.

  “Haven’t you ever noticed he doesn’t like being alone? The guy probably just wants something to do. He's a party boy and aside from Damien most of his friends are up at school. What's he supposed to do? Just sit around and pine for you?”

  I shrug. “Fine by me.”

  She laughs and smacks me with the pillow she’s been holding.

  In a rare moment of letting my guard down I come clean, telling her my deeper fear. “What if she’s more his type? I can't shake the feeling he's out of my league. I mean he's freaking gorgeous and funny and completely amazing.”

  She doesn’t miss a beat. “Maybe he's exactly what you need.”

  Chapter 6

  “You look like you had a late night,” I say to Adam the next morning. We’re standing side by side on the chef’s line and I can tell he’s exhausted. His hair is disheveled, his eyes are flat, and he has a day’s worth of stubble occupying his chin.

  “Ugh, you have no idea!” he moans, cradling his head in his hands.

  Damien shuffles by and jabs him in the sides. He looks every bit as haggard as Adam, his hair mussed and eyes bloodshot. “How you feeling A-Dub?”

  “Fuck off, man,” Adam mutters, not even bothering to look up. Damien is unfazed, continuing on his way towards the kitchen.

  As Damien rounds the corner Adam groans and turns his head to me. “It was our buddy Seth’s twenty-first birthday last night. D planned everything so obviously we did it big: strippers on a party bus, cooler full of Jell-o shots, bottle service at the bar, the whole shebang.” He lets out a little snicker before going on. “The freaking birthday boy passed out in the Indigo Lounge bathroom at ten o’clock. Can you believe that? Most people aren’t even at the bar yet and he was already passed out on a nasty ass bathroom floor.”

  “That’s disgusting, Adam,” I reply chuckling. “What kind of friend lets their buddy crash on a bathroom floor?”

  He breaks into that deep laughter, his eyes flashing to mine alight with amusement. “It really couldn’t be avoided. Everyone kept feeding him shots. Anyway, we took him to his mom’s, left him on the couch, and went back to the bar.”

  “You didn’t! You left him on his birthday?”

  “I told you we did it big. What were we supposed to do, just sit around his living room with his mom and watch him sleep? Nah, we had an obligation to that bottle of Stoli at the bar, and we held up our end. But freaking Damien kept me out until five in the morning knowing full well we both had to be here to open.” He exhales sharply and leans his upper body against the counter for support. “I can’t tell if I’m more tired or hungover.”

  “You’ve got to learn to say no to peer pressure, Adam.” I smile sweetly up at him, finding his distress all kinds of adorable.

  “Who can say no when there are shots involved?” he asks, peeking over at me with a pained look.

  “Espresso break later?” I ask him. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  Thirty minutes later his dark eyes lock on mine as he gestures towards the espresso station. I meet him and set to work brewing our shots. Adam leans against the counter at my side, watching me with intent eyes. When the shots are ready we clink the little, white mugs together and tip them back. He slams his down on the counter like it’s a shot glass and exclaims, “Where’s the chaser?”

  “Just what you need,” I tease, collecting our mugs to take to the back.

  Adam and I meet twice more for espresso shots during our shift and by the end we’re both jittery and wide-awake. I’m headed to start my side duty when I spot him rolling silverware on a long steel table in the kitchen. I instantly abandon my cleaning plans and walk back to start rolling my own basket of silverware at his side. He’s pulled off his tie and rolled the sleeves of his white button down up to the elbow. The sight of his tan skin brings back memories of the pool, of his body sliding against mine, of his arm around my waist. I force myself to focus on the silverware in front of me for fear he’ll see
it written on my face that I only ever want to be that close to him.

  As I roll the next set of silverware into the napkin, I bow my elbows way out to the side to get in his way. He playfully pokes my ribcage with one of his silverware rolls and a warm smile spreads over his face. After nestling the silverware roll in the basket, I slide a step closer to him. I carefully place the next knife and fork on my cloth napkin and begin rolling again with elbows wide, intentionally colliding with his stomach.

  “This is my technique, Adam. I can’t help it if you’re in the way.”

  He bursts out laughing as he watches me and my heart soars. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get us some more knives? We’re about out.”

  I retrieve the supplies, but when I return, I see he’s taken all the silverware I rolled out of my basket and placed it in his. I make an animated show of peering into the two baskets.

  “Looks like someone snatched your silverware, Lex. What a shame.” His whole face is lit up, even his eyes are grinning. “I guess you’ll have plenty of time to practice that sweet technique of yours.”

  I twist up the top napkin from my stack and playfully snap it at him.

  “You don’t fool me, Westbrook. I’m onto your game.”

  He feigns innocence and places the last of the silverware rolls in his now full basket. He starts to leave but turns back to me. “Thanks for the pick-me-ups today. You got me through the day.”

  I’m inwardly cringing, waiting for that damned word again, the one to put me in my place. But he doesn’t say it, doesn’t say what a great friend I am. Instead he asks, “You’re not working tonight, right? Want to hang out?”

  Surprise washes over me, a sharp tingle searing from scalp to chest to stomach. I want to act casual, to not let on what this means to me, but my face betrays me, cheeks and lips and eyes all grinning. Even if we are hanging out as friends, it’s a start. It’s something.

  “That sounds okay.” I try to say the words casually. I try not to let him know how hard my heart is pounding, how my hands are already clammy, how I’ve wanted nothing else since he walked back into this restaurant weeks ago.