Forever Summer (Book # 7 The Summer Series)

by C.J Duggan

  After dinner Adam wanted to experience the largest shower in the southern hemisphere, which had me on movie duty. I wanted Adam to relax, to somehow unwind and entrust that I could be there for him, even if only for a moment’s distraction from a painful reality. I knew he wouldn’t forget but maybe just for a little while he could become lost in something else. I dragged a heap of pillows out of my room, chucking them all around the floor at the base of the couch, knowing that our usual position would be on the floor, back resting against the couch with a throw rug over our knees, some popcorn and chocolate Maltesers within reaching distance on the coffee table. The lounge room was plunged into darkness save for the light of the TV, and the delicate hall light that flooded through. I lit a few tea candles dotted around on my TV cabinet for ambience, because candles were relaxing, right? Of course they were. I assumed the position, remote controls at the ready, with Adam’s favourite The Blues Brothers loaded and ready to go. It felt like he was taking forever and I was becoming more fidgety with every minute that passed. I took in a deep breath.

  Just relax, Ellie. It’s just a movie night, no big deal, we have had hundreds of them.

  I settled into the little blanket and pillow nest covering my legs, folded my arms and waited; focusing on the distant flicker of candlelight seemed to help me relax, getting lost in the zen of thinking about nothing other than the dancing flame. It was only with the sound of the bathroom door closing did I jump back into my skin; blinking, I turned to see Adam entering the lounge in a fresh pair of jeans and blue Quicksilver T-shirt. Blue always looked so good on him.

  He turned off the hall light. “Wow, who said romance was dead?” Adam looked curiously at the twinkling tea candles and I could feel my cheeks flame. I had gone for the relaxing angle, not once thinking how else it would seem.

  “Think of it more as a church confessional,” I said, trying to laugh it off.

  “Ready for me to confess my sins?” he said, stepping over me and without missing a beat, sitting beside me on the lounge floor, punching and reorganising the pillows and blanket. Adam smelt amazing, cool, crisp and clean; I wanted to lean into it. He settled beside me, lifting the blanket over his legs. I tried not to openly stare at him; instead, I would catch glimpses of him next to me, frowning at the remote control in the dim light, trying to figure out which was play and which was pause. He looked so adorable, the crinkle across his brow, his damp hair all messy from his shower. God, I wanted to touch him, to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, to press my lips against the alcove of his neck.

  Ellie, stop it!

  So much for not thinking such thoughts tonight, but with Adam so close it was going to be impossible to keep my mind out of the gutter. I tried my best to push my eyes forward and watch the movie and to block out Adam’s laughter, or his hand brushing against mine as we rummaged for popcorn, or his arm pressed up against mine. At one point Adam hooked his leg over mine.

  “Stop jigging your leg,” he said, leaving his leg in place. I hadn’t even realised I had been fidgeting. I didn’t complain, I simply sunk down deeper into my little cocoon, revelling in the comfort of Adam being by my side. I felt safe, content, like I could do this every night of my life. I tried not to think about the reality of what I wanted and what I could have. My eyes were drooping, fighting to focus on the grand finale of the movie; instead, I let my head drift to rest on Adam’s shoulder. Feeling the warmth under my cheek felt so right, and he shifted so I could get more comfortable leaning against him. I didn’t stir until I felt the press of lips against my forehead when Adam spoke lowly.

  “Ellie, bed.” Adam moved his shoulder slightly to stir me awake. So comfy, so cosy I had been; I never wanted to move. I twisted, and stretched with a pained moan.

  “You coming?” I groaned the question, not thinking too much about it, until Adam hesitated his answer.

  “Do you want me to?”

  Did I want Adam Henderson in my bed? Hmmm?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Why was I so nervous?

  I was staring absentmindedly at my own reflection, methodically letting the electric toothbrush whizz over my teeth. Adam was in the bedroom, waiting for me to come and turn off the light and get in next to him.

  God, why was I so nervous? This was Adam.

  Rinsing my mouth out and unplugging my toothbrush, I let out a weary breath. Not that I was tired anymore, far from it. If anything, I was wide awake, and as I moved from the bathroom across the hall, standing in the doorway to my bedroom, there he was, leaning against my bed head, his arms crossed over his bare torso, accentuating the curve of his biceps clearly visible even by lamplight. The shadows cast the tell-tale signs of fatigue and worry across his face, something so clear to me now I wondered how I had missed all the signs that there was something seriously wrong. His eyes were a million miles away and regardless of how we had had such a relaxed, carefree night, it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. I really didn’t want that to be his final thoughts before sleep; wherever his mind was it was clear it was weighted down with something troubling. I slipped inside the room, Adam’s attention snapping towards me only when I shut the door. He straightened to attention, lifting his brows.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I repeated, standing before him in my singlet and Supergirl boxers.

  Yep, there was nothing awkward about any of this.

  Adam leant back against the headboard, linking his hands behind his head. “Tell me a story, Ellie,” he said with a devious little smirk.

  My heart leapt in approval seeing a glimpse of the old Adam; you could see moments of the real Adam desperately wanting to break through and it was my job to set him free.

  I made my way to my cupboard, a walk-in robe that was almost bigger than my entire apartment. I could feel Adam’s eyes boring into the back of me, I could imagine the quizzical frown plastered across his brow as he wondered what I was doing. I had even wondered that myself as I dragged forward a large packing box, peeling the masking tape from it and opening the flaps to reveal the hidden contents, on top where I had placed them two months before. My diaries. Piling a random selection into my arms I carried them to the bed, kind of loving the uncertain look Adam was giving me.

  I dumped them on my side of the bed, climbing on top of the mattress next to Adam and crossing my legs. Adam went to reach out for a diary, but I slapped his hand away.

  “Uh-uh,” I warned. “I’m the storyteller around here.

  “Okaaay,” Adam said slowly, still completely unsure about exactly what was going on.

  “You want a trip down memory lane?”

  “Through the eyes of Ellie Parker?” he mused.

  I nodded.

  Adam grinned, so broad, so bright I could feel my chest tighten at such a familiar thing as that smile.

  “Now this I gotta hear.”

  I grabbed a random diary, 1995, flicking through the pages, ensuring that the entry was appropriate; I mean, I had to keep some secrets. I landed on something I could use; grinning like a fool I cleared my throat and straightened my spine.

  “Dear Diary …”

  I kind of want to kill Adam. Like, slow strangulation style. I might just do it if he wasn’t already injured (self-imposed injury, that is) The idiot fell off a pool table, or ping pong table, or whatever kind of table he shouldn’t have been on. Dancing up there with some tarty girls from Year Ten, his toga outfit tucked into his shorts, it’s a sight you just can’t unsee.

  Now don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful that he landed me the job at the Onslow, but now he’s getting sent away to his Nan’s and I am soooo mad! This summer was going to be epic, and now it’s just going to plain suck without the infuriating little bugger.

  Adam was already laughing. “Bloody hell, that summer sucked so bad.”

  “Yours did? At least you got out of being slaved around in a forty-degree kitchen with crazy Rosanna.”

  “Well, back then you had Stan
to comfort you after your shifts.”

  My smile faltered a little; it just seemed weird talking about my ex with Adam, and thinking back to 1995 I had no doubt the majority of my diary entries would be about Stan, with love hearts and signatures—Mrs Ellie Remington—scrawled throughout. I placed the diary aside.

  Picking up 1993, I flicked through the pages, glancing up at Adam who looked on expectantly; he was enjoying this, I could tell.

  “Dear Diary …”

  Jumping on the bus tomorrow to Maitland. Mum says I’m only allowed to go if I go with someone else so HELLO, Adam!! I realise that my shopping expedition is going to be hindered with his constant whingeing as I drag him around all the girly shops, but I think I am going to kind of enjoy torturing him. Bwahahaha …

  I hid my smile with the diary, taking in Adam’s horrified look.

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Oh, but we had a good day.”

  “Oh sure, you looking through accessories at Sportsgirl was the time of my life.” Adam looked wistful as if recalling a fond memory.

  I giggled, remembering it all too well. Adam had passed out on the bus on the way home, exhausted.

  I flicked through to another page, one that had me laughing not because of what was written, but because of a stick-figure drawing of the three of us.

  “Check it out, no wonder I failed art.”

  We went on well into the night, picking out little key moments, all the Adam ones mainly; I skimmed over all the boy crushes and bitchy girl comments. Even if they were the most mundane entries, it was nothing if not hilarious mimicked in my teenage voice as I read them out loud.

  I eventually found one entry that didn’t have me laughing so much as pouting.

  “Awww.”

  “What?”

  My vision became blurred as I read through the entry. It was a late night one, marked 1.25 a.m.; I always put the time of entry. This one had occurred the day Adam had defended me against Sarah Norman, and the diary incident.

  “What’s it say?”

  What had begun as the worst day of my life could have possibly turned into the best. Is it possible to adore Adam Henderson any more than I do?

  “That was over Sarah Norman’s diary; remember you found me crying in the girls’ toilets, a blubbering mess?”

  Adam was thinking back with a smile. “Yeah, I remember. I said I had your back.”

  My eyes snapped up from the page, my heart thundering against my chest.

  “That’s exactly what you said.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  By 2 a.m. I put the last of the diaries away. I could feel an ache in my sides; never had I laughed so much, never had I seen Adam laugh like that. It was better than any medicine. Adam had yawned but his eyes were full of life as I slid back into bed, adjusting my pillows and lying on my side, looking up at him sitting against the bed head.

  “So tell me,” he said. “What happened in 1999’s diary?”

  My smile faltered, watching Adam slide down in the bed, lying on his side, propping his head on his hand, mirroring me, waiting for my answer with great amusement.

  I shrugged. “Nothing, pretty dull year, really.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You seemed pretty frantic about me looking at it.”

  I scoffed. “That would be any girl’s reaction if someone went to look in their diary, some things are just … private.”

  Adam was studying my face, dubious about my answer; it always unnerved me how he could see through me with those eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” He nudged me with his foot, the act playful, but his eyes were serious. He meant what he said.

  I wasn’t so sure. To tell him all would be to give him all, to divulge my deepest, darkest secret. A secret that ran the risk of ending everything. What if it came out? There would be no more movie nights, or casually sleeping in each other’s beds, sipping drinks and bumming rides, it would all change in one fell swoop, and I think I would prefer to live a lifetime of unrequited love with my best friend than run the risk of bringing awkwardness into our relationship that would change things forever.

  “Okay, how about this?” Adam began, “If you can guess what I’m thinking then you have to tell me about 1999.”

  “Whatever; as if you would be honest about it, you just want to know.”

  “I’ll be honest. Let’s face it; you’re pretty crap at mind reading. The odds are in your favour.”

  I squinted knowingly at him. “I don’t know, sounds like entrapment to me.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Adam wiggled his eyebrows.

  “So if I guess correctly I am essentially being punished. How does that seem fair? What’s in for me?”

  “If you guess wrong, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking.”

  Whoopty doo.

  “Why do I feel like you are leading me down a rabbit hole?”

  “Oh ye of little faith; come on, what am I thinking?”

  I smirked: for once I really didn’t want to be right; the hope would be that I would get my answer wrong and the secrets of 1999 stayed long buried. So I narrowed my eyes, staring intently into Adam’s, pretending to concentrate with every fibre of my being.

  “You’re thinking … wait a minute,” I said, sitting upright. Reaching over to my bedside drawer, I grabbed an old phone bill and a pen. I tore off a strip of paper from the corner, handing it over to Adam. “Write down what you’re thinking, then I know you’re telling the truth.”

  “Geez, where’s the trust?”

  “Do it!” I handed it to him.

  “Okay, fine, but just make sure your guess is realistic.”

  I shrugged. “Anything could be going on in your mind, how am I to know?”

  Adam glanced up from the paper he was writing on, a little secret smile planted across his face. God he looked sexy when he did that. He completed it, folding up the paper. I held my hand out but he kept it away from my grasp.

  “Uh-uh, this time I’m the storyteller.”

  I shook my head; would this night ever end? Although, I really didn’t want it to.

  “Fine,” I said. “Sit up.”

  Adam shifted upright; I sat in front of him, crossing my legs. There we sat on the bed, face to face in the dim lamp-lit room, looking as though we were about to perform a séance or something.

  If I had the unlikely misfortune of guessing what was on the paper I was doomed, because I knew that Adam would insist on seeing the diary, that would be the stipulation. I had no doubt about that. The odds were in my favour, so as I looked directly into Adam’s eyes, perhaps taking longer than I needed to enjoy the moment, I cocked my brow.

  “You’re thinking, you just want to go to sleep already.”

  Please be wrong, please be wrong.

  Adam maintained his best poker face, so serious was his composure I started to panic, but none more so than when he broke into a slow, wolfish smile.

  Oh my God, please don’t let it be the answer.

  Adam shook his head. “Wrong.”

  YES! My secret was safe.

  “Happy?”

  “Delighted! So come on, spill; what were you actually thinking?” I bounced on the mattress, thrilled by my triumph.

  Adam’s eyes ticked over my face; all his humour had slipped away once more. I could feel myself frozen under the weight of those eyes, eyes that dipped to my mouth for the briefest moment before looking back up into mine. Time and silence stretched out to the point where I didn’t think he would tell me, that I would just have to take the paper and read it for myself, but before I moved into doing that very thing, Adam broke the silence.

  “I was thinking … what it would be like to kiss you.”

  I stilled, my eyes wide, ticking over the serious lines of Adam’s face, waiting for him to break out into laughter, but he didn’t; instead, he handed the folded-up square of paper to me. I slowly took it from him, without once tearing my eyes from his. I swall
owed; my mouth had suddenly gone painfully dry. I unfolded the note to reveal the very thing he had just said to me.

  I read it over and over again, barely believing it was real. Had I somehow fallen asleep and this was a dream? A very, very realistic dream. Now I was the one that was controlling the silence, I was the one that was serious, my questioning eyes lifting to Adam, who was unmoving, unwavering in his position opposite me as he watched me intently. I wasn’t speechless—shocked, hell, yes, I was—but I had had the response in my head the minute the words tumbled out of his mouth; it was only now I had the ability to put the words into motion.

  I swallowed once more, staring intently at him. “Then why don’t you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was all he needed to know.

  I had hoped for moments of forgetting tonight, distracting Adam in ways that lifted his sprits, brought him an escape, but never would I have believed that the escape came for both of us. Never could I have imagined what it would feel like when Adam grabbed the material of my singlet, pulling me toward him as his mouth pressed oh-so slowly against mine. He was gentle at first, soft and tentative, kissing me once, twice, just enough to catch the breath that exhaled from me. His hand sliding up to cup my face did little to stop me from trembling, did nothing to still my heart even if his hand anchored me in place, tilting my head to the side to best explore me, deeper and needier with every kiss. My hands divided the thick folds of his hair, providing my own anchor to him as he pulled me into his lap. I followed gladly.

  I’d follow him anywhere.

  Pushing him against the bed head as I straddled him, his hands grabbing my hips, his fingers digging into the thin fabric of my silken boxers, I felt his tongue inside my mouth, warm and sweet, lingering, tasting, teasing me. I pulled away enough to look into his eyes, smiling against his mouth to see he needed me just as much as I needed him. I gasped, feeling his hands slide under my shirt, skimming along my ribcage. He laughed, knowing exactly where all my most ticklish, tender spots were. He just knew so much: he knew how my hair smelt like apple shampoo, the size of my hands when pressed up against his, the fact I fit perfectly into the alcove of his neck whenever he hugged me. He knew my feet were freakishly cold even in the summer. And I knew him. I knew his hopes, his fears, his dreams and even though I hadn’t read his mind before, I was fairly certain I could read it now. I could see it in his eyes; they looked up into mine, asking me a silent question, the one I answered as I cupped his face and lowered my mouth to his. A moan of approval escaped him as I ground against him, feeling his need between the junction of my thighs. I didn’t want gentle, I didn’t want slow. If only for tonight I wanted Adam because above all else I knew we fit, we made sense. Even feeling the slide of his lips down my neck, tracing his tongue along my collarbone, it felt like fire burned along my skin. Any thought or worry about what we were doing and how it could change us mattered little. Right now nothing mattered, I could only feel the desperate urge to have him. Even if for just one night of my life I wanted him to be mine in the most complete way possible, the only way we had never been.