The girl.
He’d thought that was true over the summer, when Jo had woken his body and heart, but now he was even more sure. Ever since she’d made that first overture and picked up the phone, they’d fallen into a routine of exchanging messages a few times a day and talking every couple of nights. They caught up on all the stuff they hadn’t gotten around to learning about each other in their time together. Sometimes they just talked. Normal stuff about their days and her research and his apartment mates. Stuff about life. Nothing felt real anymore until he’d viewed it through the lens of her perception, the sharp filter of her wit.
Shannon’s mouth went soft around the edges. “The same girl from this summer?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Luck didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Adam raised his brows at that. “Excuse you?”
With a sad smile, she said, “You don’t exactly give up easy, you know.”
Right. Of course he didn’t.
He shook his head and shifted his gaze, a low grunt of a laugh scorching his throat. “So I hear.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Not a very happy one.”
“Tell it to me anyway?”
For a long minute, Adam stared off into the distance, across the quad.
Then he turned to Shannon. He shrugged, sadness like a weight on his shoulders. “I fell for her. We only had this handful of weeks, and I knew that, right? Stupid.” He bit off the word. He brought his hand to his face and worried the edge of his thumbnail with his teeth. “She was just…”
Amazing. As brilliant as the stars they studied, only—
Only she’d been a comet. Flaring into his life one minute and gone the next, never to return. Not in his lifetime.
He shook his head. “This is weird, right?”
“No weirder than it was this summer.”
Well, she had a point there. Only… “It gets weirder.” He dropped his gaze and his hand, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his spread knees. Jiggling his foot up and down. “Because she… she saw how things were. When you and I were drifting apart.” He glanced to Shannon and then back to the ground. “And she saw the same damn thing you did. I don’t let go. She said I—” This might be cruel. But Shannon had asked. “I was settling. With you. Waiting for you to call instead of moving on. Worst part is, she wasn’t wrong.”
He had to give Shannon some credit. She didn’t interrupt to apologize or make this about her. Because it wasn’t.
Sighing, he let his shoulders fall. “At the end of the summer, I told her I wanted more. She said she didn’t.”
“She’s an idiot.”
“Says the last girl who broke my heart.”
She cast her gaze skyward. “I didn’t break your heart. Not the way this girl did.” Her smile went strained. “I didn’t have as much of it to break.”
“Shannon—”
She waved him off. This still wasn’t about them. “Is that really what she told you? That she didn’t want more?”
“Not in so many words. It’s all circumstances, you know? We even said, maybe someday, if the stars aligned, you know?” He made vague hand gestures toward the sky before giving up. “But long distance sucks, and she just…” He worked his jaw fruitlessly. “She didn’t trust me.”
“Not to cheat?”
“What? No.” The closest he’d ever come to giving in to that temptation had been with Jo herself, and if he’d been able to resist her, he could resist anything.
“Okay. Because that’s totally not you.”
“It’s not.”
She’d known him better than that.
He took a deep breath, and said, “She didn’t trust me not to do the same thing to her I did to you.” His throat ached. “Hanging on too long. Settling.”
“And so now you’re settling again?”
He twitched his head up, twisting his neck to the side. “Wait. What?”
“You just said. She’s afraid you’re going to settle for her. But instead you’re sitting here, alone, looking at your phone like it’s the most precious thing in the world, settling for not her.”
“I—” Whatever protest he’d been about to make died in his lungs.
Jo wasn’t feeding him scraps of affection to string him along. If anything, she was withholding them to keep him at bay.
Never, not once, had she said she didn’t want him. Only that she thought she couldn’t keep him.
“Oh my God.” He scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Sitting up straighter, he dragged his palms down his face. “Oh shit.”
He’d let her push him away. Let them become just friends, not even daring to fight for fear of losing what little he had.
He was settling.
“Lightbulb,” Shannon said, opening her hand above his head, fingers starbursting out.
He batted at her, moving to perch at the edge of the bench. “What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know.” With a knowing, fond expression, she darted in past his defenses and ruffled his hair. When he gave her an unimpressed look, she drew away. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stood. “But I’m guessing you’ll figure it out.”
Three days. There was no reason to panic, because it had only been three days.
Jo’s stomach turned over all the same. She flipped her phone so it sat facedown on her desk. The lack of a blinking light was too much of a distraction. Too much of a reminder.
Sure, she’d gone more than a week without talking to Adam right after they’d left Arecibo. But since then, the calls and texts had come more and more regularly. They’d been the best parts of her day. Perfect breaks from classes and studying and research.
And now she hadn’t heard a thing from him in three days. She rolled her eyes at herself, then kept her gaze trained skyward against the pressure behind her eyes. Okay, fine, after the second voice mail she’d left and the third unanswered text, he’d fired off a quick message letting her know he was fine, just busy, and he’d be in touch soon.
Busy. She’d heard that before.
It wasn’t even fair. She might be sitting here alone with nothing but her books and her laptop to keep her company, but he wasn’t like her. He’d proved that often enough. He had his family, his friends. Shannon. He went to parties and left his goddamn room sometimes.
Even if it wasn’t his ex. A guy like him, single on a college campus? They’d eat him alive, and fuck knew he hadn’t waited long between things falling apart with Shannon and jumping into bed with Jo. That he hadn’t hooked up with anyone until now was the miracle.
The worst part of it all was that this was what she’d wanted. Him moving on was a best-case scenario, and she’d be fine. She was always fine.
Who the hell was she kidding?
She took the time to mark her book before slamming it closed and shoving it aside. Adam had waltzed into her life and gentled her open. He’d been the best damn lay she’d ever had and the best friend—
And she’d pushed him away. Why? So she didn’t have to watch when he eventually walked off?
All her reasons came rushing back. She’d been protecting him, from himself and from her. Letting him tie himself to her was cruel, when she knew how he was. How faithful and constant and…
She shoved a hand into her hair and tugged hard.
Fuck. Was that really the worst she could come up with?
She was a coward. The worst kind. And now she was alone. Maybe he’d be nice enough to let their… whatever this was fade off quietly. Maybe he’d call at some point to tell her he’d moved on.
Crazy thoughts flooded her mind. Leaving voice mails, trying to keep him in her atmosphere, hadn’t worked. She shook with harsh laughter at the idea of showing up at his apartment. Did they even make boom boxes for idiotic jilted lovers to hold over their heads anymore? She could wave her goddamn Bluetooth speaker at him. Something.
She was losing him.
She�
��d already given him away.
Pushing back from her desk, she rose to stare at this tiny apartment she’d locked herself away in. All this time, it’d been her refuge, the place she’d escaped to. Now it felt like a prison.
She had to get out of there. Maybe she wasn’t driving to Philadelphia tonight to make a fool of herself. It was a Saturday night, but she sure as hell wasn’t trying the whole losing herself at a club thing. But she couldn’t stay here, brain circling and circling, returning again and again to the same point. She’d fucked up. Made a terrible mistake.
Her gaze caught on the sneakers she’d tossed near the door in disgust a few days prior. She’d tried running a handful of times now, and it hadn’t gotten any better. Credit where credit was due, though. It left her wrung out and sick to her stomach with shaking muscles, but it blanked her thoughts, at least for a little while.
Pulling up an angry playlist, she tucked a pair of earbuds in. With her keys clenched firmly in her hand, the jagged edges sticking out between her fingers in case anyone decided to fuck with her, she made her way downstairs. She did a couple of perfunctory stretches in the entryway of her building.
The cool, early autumn air enveloped her as she spilled out onto the sidewalk, scanning it for anyone coming her way. Cranking up the volume on her music, she set an easy warm-up pace toward the corner.
She made it barely a dozen strides before, out of nowhere, a hand closed around her arm.
And it was instinct. Jesus Christ, but it still was. She kicked her leg out to get into a solid crouch, had her weight just right to lay the guy out on his ass, only…
Only fighting her way out of every situation wasn’t her only option. Not anymore.
Not yielding an inch, she tore her earbuds from her ear. The roar of thrumming bass subsided into a tinny echo as the speakers fell, letting the rest of the world seep in around her again. The voice.
“Goddammit, Jo, I am not letting you do this to me again.”
Her heart stopped.
It was impossible. There was no way.
She shook free, pulse thundering to life again as she tried to get her head around the concept. The hands on her retreated, but she didn’t let her guard down. Twisting away, she got a foot of space between herself and the person who’d taken her by surprise.
And she might as well have been the one who’d gotten flipped. The one flat on her back and gasping for air.
He’d taken her by surprise all right. Here and now, and at every single turn. With his kindness. His attention and his patience, and the fact that he wouldn’t let her push him away. Even when she thought she’d managed it for good.
Because there, hands up in front of him, looking like the best thing she’d seen in her entire life, was Adam.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You’re here.” Jo stuttered the words out on an exhalation, the pavement or her legs or possibly both going out from under her. She staggered backward until the brick wall of her apartment building came forward to meet her. Slumping against it, she stared at him.
“Jo—” Adam held out a hand, but then paused, not making contact.
It wasn’t quite disappointment coursing through her at the distance lingering between them. How could she possibly be disappointed? “You’re here,” she repeated, like she needed to say it out loud to have any chance of believing it.
He dropped his hand and lifted his chin, looking for all the world like he was gearing up for a fight, and that made her pause. “I am,” he said. “And I know—you probably weren’t expecting this. Hell, you probably didn’t even want it. But—”
Forget gearing up for a fight. He was ready to make a speech. And Jo wanted to hear it, whatever it was he’d come all this way to say, but right there, in that moment, it didn’t matter.
He was here. After all the times she’d felt alone and abandoned and like it would be absolute idiocy to ever depend on anybody else. She hadn’t asked, even though she’d wanted him, needed him, to come. The man she’d been so worried would hold on too long to something that wasn’t there, compromising and accepting less.
He was here for her.
So she cut him off before he could get another word out, before he could even try to convince her. She said the only thing in her brain at that moment. The only thing that mattered.
“I love you.”
Her own voice echoed in her head, the words she’d never imagined she’d ever say. It felt like the world should be spinning even harder on its axis with the weight of them. But the wall behind her didn’t give. If anything, the ground solidified, and her heart lit up, up, up.
Adam stopped in his tracks. He opened his mouth and closed it again, confusion warring with a desperate flicker of hope in his chest. “Excuse me?”
“I—” Her own mouth ached with the force of her smile. “I love you.”
Still frozen in his spot, he gawked at her, but the lines were seeping away, the worry going with them. How could she have left him so uncertain? Given him so much room to doubt?
“I love you,” she repeated one last time, because apparently she was brain damaged and only had two phrases left in her vocabulary, but that was fine. She didn’t need any more.
Except when he still didn’t move, and she didn’t move, she found a third phrase. “Fuck this,” she mumbled, and she launched herself at him.
He caught her as if it were nothing at all, winding his arms around her as she looped hers around his neck, lifting her and holding her tight against the plane of his chest. They lingered, noses brushing. He beamed. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
He surged upward and she crashed into him, and then it was just the heat of his kiss breaking the cool night air, the wet slide of his tongue and the nipping of teeth, flesh catching on the metal of her lip ring, and it was so good she could barely breathe. Her spine hit brick, and he pressed her up against it as she hooked her legs around his waist. Panting into each other’s mouths, they kissed and kissed, and forget running. This was the rush she’d been looking for, the racing pulse and energy, every atom in her body coming alive.
He laughed, bringing a hand up to touch her face, scarcely parting from her lips as he spoke. “I had a whole speech planned, you know.”
“I want to hear it.” She ground against his hips and found him hard. “Later.”
“Later,” he agreed.
Time went hazy as she lost herself in the warmth of him. She wanted to touch every part of him and have him touch every part of her. It hadn’t even been a month, but she was suddenly starving for it. Not for sex, but for him.
But sex was totally where she was going to start.
Except, out of nowhere, someone called, “Get a room.”
Adam jerked away, face flushing tomato red. Jo laughed, letting her head thunk against the wall. Jesus. For a minute there, she’d completely forgotten where they were.
“This isn’t funny,” Adam murmured. He leaned forward again to rest his brow against her shoulder. “I was about to ravage you in public.”
“And I was about to let you.”
Lifting his head, he fixed her with that gaze of his. “I never thought I’d get to touch you again.”
Something inside her went terribly soft. “Well, you do.” She placed one gentle kiss against his lips, then tilted her head toward the building behind them. “But maybe you should do it somewhere else.”
Glancing up, Adam asked, “This your building?”
“Yup.”
“Can I come inside?” And he probably didn’t mean it as seductively as it sounded, but she didn’t care. A shiver wracked through her.
“Absolutely.”
They untangled themselves, getting another comment from some asshole pedestrian as Adam set her down. On shaky legs, Jo led him to the door and up the stairs. They made it into her apartment without any additional public indecency. She closed and locked the door behind them and stayed there, facing away from him, closing her eyes and breathing.<
br />
Heat soaked into her back as he came to hover over her, static flowing with the closeness of him. She ached for contact to discharge the spark. So softly, his fingertip traced the curve of her spine.
“We are going to talk this time.” His voice was rough like sex, and her skin felt too tight, her abdomen molten.
She nodded.
“We’re going to have a reasoned, intelligent, extended conversation about what we both want from each other and how we’re going to make it happen.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m not going to let you shut me down or tell me what you think I want.”
“Totally fair.”
His tone deepened. “But if you’ll let me…” He wavered, swallowing audibly. “I’ve spent the last few weeks not kissing you. I have so much I have to make up for.”
“Oh thank God.”
Turning, she dragged him down until their mouths met again, and it was like coming home and being safe and having her sex drive jump-started right into high gear at the same time.
“I missed you,” he gasped out between kisses. “I missed you so much.” His hands were all over her, broad palms skating up and down her sides and curving around her breasts. One rose to span the width of her ribs. When his fingertips stroked the beads of her necklace, he made a choked sound. “You’re still wearing it.”
“I never take it off.”
He pulled his lips from hers, crushing her to him. It was a bone-crunching hug that wasn’t about sex at all, and the trembling need inside of her shifted, becoming something new.
It might’ve been the best damn thing she’d ever felt.
She stayed there for a long minute, arms wrapped around him just as tightly as his were around her, the side of her face mashed hard against his chest. Finally, she sighed out a humming breath. “Come on.”
She walked them backward, across the tiny room that just an hour ago had felt like a cage and was now a haven, a place where she could be herself and where she could be with him. When they reached her bed, he sat down on the edge of it, tugging her along with him. She climbed to rest astride his thighs, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips.
When The Stars Align Page 29
