“Oh, Mike must be in the sauce.”
Navy’s eyebrows reached so high I thought they’d disappear into her hairline. “Oh, is he ever.” She looped an arm through mine and led me away from the kitchen out to the near-empty living room. It was an actual formal living room—no television in sight, just two white leather couches and a wall of books organized by color. With its plush, white rug and white marble fireplace, it looked like a room my mom would’ve pinned on Pinterest for inspiration, if she didn’t already have two completely decorated homes. Navy and I lowered onto one of the couches and she immediately tucked her feet under her. “Are you here alone?” she asked, looking around.
“Adam’s here somewhere.”
“Oh,” she said, in a knowing way. Knowing, like she was actually cheering on this relationship. When I’d given her the rundown of what was going on, surprisingly she’d clapped excitedly for me. “Adam’s a catch!”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t really caught him, per se. He and I have a business transaction,” I’d told her.
“Still.” Navy had clutched her hands to her chest and gazed up at some invisible spot on the ceiling. “He likes to read; you like to read. How romantic.”
“Navy, you need to get out more if you think that’s romance. Or, maybe, read one of my books.”
So, at least Navy was on board for the farce. I still needed to tell Tori, however.
“Where is he?”
“Probably getting a beer.” I propped my elbow up onto the back of the couch, not wanting to talk about Adam at all. “Where’s Keane?”
“Probably distracting Mike outside.” She looked over her shoulder to the foyer as more people spilled in. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t recognize them either. “Best to keep him distracted so he doesn’t get pissed that he can’t find the keys. Want a drink?”
She had slipped so easily into a hostess role that I had to smile. “I’m okay, Mom,” I said, tugging on one of the braids that lay over her shoulder.
“If I was your mom I wouldn’t be offering you alcohol.”
“Maybe,” I said, but not entirely sure. I was fairly convinced my mom medicated with wine throughout the day just to stand being around my father as much as she was. She was so judgmental toward my sisters about their own alcohol intake, so it made sense if she was actually a hypocrite. Though if I had to be around my father as much as she did, I suspected I’d be the same in her shoes. “Is it bad that I already want to go home?”
“It’s not bad,” Navy said. She nearly reached for my forehead before I stopped her.
“I don’t have a fever. I’m not sick. I just…” I shrugged, looking around the space. “I don’t want to be here.”
“Is that why Adam has abandoned you for a beer?”
“He hasn’t abandoned me,” I said, trying to make sure I was careful with my words. He and I hadn’t spoken the entire way over to Mike’s party. This party was for appearances only, so that it wasn’t such a shock when photos of Adam and I together started popping up on social media.”He wanted a beer and I didn’t.”
“But you’re here.” Navy tapped the couch. “With me. Not hanging on your boyfriend.”
“He’s my fake boyfriend.”
“He’s not trying very hard, even for a fake boyfriend.”
I looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“He asked me a little bit about you,” Navy said coyly.
“What did he ask?” I wasn’t aware Adam was going behind my back to converse with my roommate.
“Just… stuff. Likes. Dislikes.” Navy said it like it was the most romantic thing. And under different circumstances, it would undoubtedly be. But I knew that Adam could use those dislikes to his advantage when no one else was around.
I was beginning to feel actually sick. This was such a bad idea. Our first outing together and I was not prepared to lie through my teeth. Sure, I did it all the time for my dad’s fundraisers and functions. But this was different. I actually knew a lot of these people. I tutored some of them. I had classes with many of them. Lying would be harder since these people knew us both.
“There you are,” Adam’s voice rang out from behind us. Like twins, Navy and I turned at the same time. He approached us, a beer in each hand.
“I don’t drink beer,” I told him.
His eyes stilled on me for a minute and he pursed his lips. “You did once,” he said, reminding us both of that night.
“I did, until I practically drowned in it.”
Adam raised one dark eyebrow. “That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” I cocked my head to the side. “Maybe you don’t remember, but I was a little bit shocked by that.”
Adam took a sip of his beer and then deadpanned, “You seemed to be back to your regular self before the night was over.”
I knew what he meant by that. Because I had said nothing when the cronies from high school had taunted him. But he’d been so busy wrapped up in another girl that he’d forgotten all about me.
“Besides,” Adam continued. “You assume too much. I brought this beer for Navy. Not you.”
“Oh, Adam,” Navy said with a laugh like his joke was the funniest thing in the world. She took the beer from him and stared up at him adoringly. She looked between the two of us when neither of us laughed. “Oh, well, it’s nice to see us all getting along so well.” Turning to Adam, she said, “We were just talking about you.”
“Oh?” He sat on the back of the couch so that I had to crane my neck to look up at him. “Only good things, I hope.”
“That’d be a terribly short list of topics to discuss,” I said with a fake smile plastered on my lips.
“Hols,” Navy said admonishingly. Why did she nudge me when I took a dig at Adam, but laugh when he snubbed me? I glared at Navy a little and she laughed. “You two make such an interesting pair,” she said, standing. “I’m going to go find Keane and see if I can rescue him.”
“Has he got himself into trouble?” Adam asked after her.
“He’s hiding Mike’s keys before he decides to drive and inevitably crash his dad’s new boat.”
“Ah,” Adam said to her retreating back.
We were alone then, Adam sipping his one remaining beer and me beverage-less. When he glanced at my hands, he held up his bottle. “Want to share?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He took a long pull and I turned my eyes away from the way it made his throat move, his sexy little veins pushing against his skin. “Not even a sip?”
“No,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself.
“You do that a lot.”
“Do what? Say no?”
“Wrap your arms around yourself.” He nodded at my posture.
“Only around you,” I countered and hesitated, briefly, before uncrossing my arms.
“Don’t care to share?” He held the beer up.
“No.”
“You liked sharing my beer back in high school.”
I felt the blush and hoped he didn’t see it climbing my neck to my cheeks. “Yeah, well that was before you hated me.”
“Fair point.”
“We should probably go outside,” I said, nodding toward the door.
“Oh, right, because no one can see us acting like a real couple in here.” He finished his beer and held his hand out for me. I stared at it, wishing I could take it and make it seem careless and free. But like he said, there was no one in here to witness us. Why put either of us through hell for no reason? I ignored his hand and moved back toward the dining room.
I was almost through the French doors before I felt the hand on my back. Looking over my shoulder, I met Adam’s eyes. That look seemed to be the invitation he needed and his hand slipped over mine, fingers pushing their way between mine so that our fingers were laced.
I wanted to pull away. The very last thing I wanted in the whole world was his stupid, warm, large hand holding mine. And it rattled my bones realizing that, knowi
ng that I wanted this. I wanted his hand holding mine. And not just for appearances.
The air outside the dining room on the deck was warm—not humid—which made it easier to relax. The sky was melting into the water, and the laughter and splashes coming from the sandy beach below made this situation more bearable than if I’d been alone.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked me after we walked over to one side of the deck. It was less crowded here, away from the beer pong table and the kegs. But it was still visible.
“Nothing,” I said, leaning my forearms on the railing as I looked below, where a few people lounged on chairs.
“What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?”
I felt his hand lay gently on the middle of my back. “This is your scene. How would you like this to play out?”
“I’m not a director,” I said quietly. This would be easier if he didn’t hate me so much. If the chemistry wasn’t tainted by his disdain for me. Then, we could be natural, unchoreographed. But he had a point. I turned around so my back was at the railing and we were facing one another. “Cage me in with one arm. Not both.”
He waited for a beat before stepping closer. “Spread your legs,” he said softly.
“Why?”
He gave me an impatient look. “I’m not after that, Hollis. I just need to put my foot between yours. My arm span isn’t ten feet.”
I was so tense, I could feel it knotting my muscles. This really was the last place on earth I wanted to be, but this was my show. I had to play my part. After a pause, I lifted one leg back until my foot hit the solid spindle of the railing. He stepped forward again, his jeans brushing my leg as he came closer. I leaned back, so that the brush of his stomach against mine remained that, and not a solid press. His leaned to my right, his left hand braced on the railing and our arms pressing against one another.
“There,” he said. “That feels natural.”
I wanted to tell him to speak for himself. I didn’t make a habit of standing so close to any man.
“What should I do?” I asked, hoping he’d help me. I could feel eyes on us, but I did my best to stare up at him. The angle of my neck caused my hair to tumble down my back, catching between it and the railing.
“Just act natural,” he said, his warm breath fluttering against my cheek as he leaned forward, inch by inch, until our chests were pressed against each other and his lips touched the shell of my ear.
I held my breath, not wanting to exhale and further push my chest into his. Holy…mackerel. When I tried to tilt my head down, my hair stuck in the wood behind me. “My hair,” I said breathlessly against his ear.
His fingers trailed against the thin fabric at my back, freeing my hair from their confines and pulling it forward, over my shoulder, as he too pulled away. His hand lingered there, with my hair, for a moment too long. Well, too long if he hadn’t been brilliantly playing his part.
We were close enough to whisper but he didn’t say anything as he looked at me, hand slipping over my shoulder. From the intensity in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips, I could almost allow myself to believe there was something stirring there. Perhaps, the very thing that was stirring for me.
“Adam!” someone yelled, effectively breaking both of our attentions as we turned to the voice.
“Blake,” Adam said with more warmth than he’d ever used for me. He stepped away, leaving me leaning against the railing awkwardly. I brushed a hand down my skirt and stood straighter.
I peered at the guy clapping Adam on the back. He looked genuinely happy to see Adam, and Adam looked happy to see him too. They exchanged hellos and what are you doing here, both completely oblivious to me. Which was fine. Because the smile Adam gave him was so brilliant that it made my own teeth hurt. And, maybe my pride just a little. If he ever leveled that kind of affection toward me, I’d surely be in trouble.
“Hollis?” the blonde guy said as he turned to me. “Hollis Vinke?”
I blinked a little, silencing cursing the growing dark which made it impossible to see him. The long blonde hair, scraggly like it was drying and attempting to curl didn’t look familiar at all to me.
“It’s Blake. Blake Miles.”
I knew the last name. One of my dad’s employees. “Oh, right. Your dad is Rob.”
“Yeah,” Blake said enthusiastically, giving me a wide mouthed smile. “You’re here with Adam?” He gave Adam some kind of bro smile.
“Yes,” I said, carefully minding my words.
“You dating?” He asked Adam like I wasn’t even here.
“No,” I said at the same time Adam said, “Yes.” Adam’s eyes flared as he looked at me. But he knew I couldn’t make this too obvious, too fast. My dad might be hundreds of miles away, but he wasn’t an idiot.
“Well, she says no,” Adam said, squinting at me in challenge before turning his gaze to Blake. “But I say yes.” His arm came around me, pulling me so we were stuck side to side. “I just have to convince her.”
“I’m sure you will.” As quickly as he’d said hello he practically said goodbye to me with his body language. “What about Sarah?” he asked Adam.
Sarah. I didn’t know any Sarahs, not well anyway. I mentally went through our senior class, trying to remember a single Sarah—such a common name, I should’ve come up with at least a couple, but I was spared the search when Adam said, “We’re still friends. She’s in Denver.”
Who the hell was Sarah? And what was this weird little burn I felt in my chest? Heartburn, surely. No way was I jealous.
Okay, fine, if I was jealous at all it was of the life Adam had that I wasn’t privy to. Something we’d have to amend if we were going to make this believable at all.
“Let’s take a photo,” Adam said. “I’ll send it to her. She really liked hanging out with you when you came to our show.”
“Sarah’s great,” Blake confirmed, pulling out his phone and opening up the camera. “Hollis?” he asked, holding it out to me.
I stared at the phone like I wished it’d spontaneously combust, but took it anyway and snapped the photo—hoping my lack of care made it blurry. I could breathe again, being away from Adam and his hold around me.
“Now let’s get one of the three of us,” Adam said, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me close. I didn’t know what to do, being this close to him again. It felt like I had just taken my first deep breath before he pulled me back under, against his heat. In the frame on his phone, I could see our faces and Blake’s just behind us. Adam’s shoulder lifted, brushing my cheek.
I got the memo. I lowered my head so I was resting on his shoulder and after a moment the flash captured us. I didn’t even have a chance to make sure it was a decent photo when Blake was taking his phone back from Adam.
“I’ll text it to you,” he said to Adam, typing away on his phone.
“Oh, just put it on Facebook.” He was still holding me. “I’m getting a new number now that I’m back in town for the time being.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll tag you. See you around. Bye, Hollis.”
He’d barely paid attention to me, but the goodbye seemed sincere enough. When he was gone, Adam’s hand loosened so he wasn’t holding me so tightly.
“That was smart,” I said, grudgingly.
“What?”
“Having him post online and tagging us.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Thanks.”
“Who’s Sarah?”
He arched a brow.
Shrugging, I hoped I looked the very picture of nonchalance. “Blake practically gushed over her while I looked on like a fish out of water. I probably should learn a little bit about your life in the last few years.”
“Sarah’s my ex,” Adam said. “She was our band manager. Unpaid gig, that.”
“Slave worker. Got it.”
“Ex-girfriend,” he corrected me. “Still a good friend.”
I didn’t have much—any—experience with former relation
ships to know if this was normal or not. But it didn’t settle well on me, knowing that there was a woman familiar to Adam’s friends, one he apparently kept in touch with. “What’s she like?”
“Oh, she’s great. Warm. Tough as nails if you fuck up though.” His lips spread. “She threw a drink in my face once.”
I swallowed the bitterness that had pooled in my mouth. He looked totally smitten with her. “Wow, that’s nice.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was vodka and I had road rash from an unfortunate stumble home the night before. Nice isn’t quite accurate.” He ran a finger over the side of his neck, over his chin where the facial hair looked slightly patchier. “I’ve got a scar here. Hair doesn’t grow quite as proudly here as it does elsewhere.”
“I’m sure you deserved the drink.”
“Oh, I did. Like I said, she’s tough as nails.”
So, nothing like me. At least, not in Adam’s eyes. No, I was some American princess with first world problems whose most dramatic outburst had been throwing her phone at a book case. Bad ass, I was not. And I didn’t really know why it bothered me so much, hearing him talk about Sarah like she walked on water.
“What does she look like?” I asked, wanting a picture in my mind. Inexplicably, I imagined some dark-haired Angelina Jolie nymph, in leather like he was. But when he turned his phone to me, I didn’t quite believe he hadn’t just Google searched “Blonde angel woman,” and shown me one of the first results. Her hair was long, blonde—duh—and she had the biggest, bluest eyes I had ever seen. She looked exactly the opposite of me. Once again, disappointment lit through me at my own inadequacies.
“She’s pretty,” I managed, meaning it. Because she was. Whatever my own insecurities, I didn’t need to twist them and aim daggers at this innocent woman. No, my daggers would be saved for Adam. After all, he had plenty for me.
15
Adam
Hollis pulled a bottle of water out of her purse and chugged it. “You bring your own water to parties?”
One Little Lie: a hate to love rom-com Page 14
