“Hold it right there. I need to change the F-stop. Okay, ready.”
Natalie ended up on her toes, lips against Adam’s cheek, for a good thirty seconds. She couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne. Man, he smells good. At the feel of his skin on her lips, with the slightest hint of evening stubble, a shiver a tickled her spine.
It’s just memories triggering all of this, she reminded herself. You’re dealing with ghosts. None of these feelings are real.
“Got it.” Lindsey again scrolled through the pictures, nodding, and the room erupted in applause.
“Thanks for humoring me, guys,” Sierra said with a grin.
“No problem,” Adam said.
Was it Natalie’s imagination, or had his voice been emphatic on that point? Before she sat down, Adam squeezed her hand and gazed at her, their eyes holding for a moment. Her insides lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
The servers brought in the main course, and conversation around the room picked up. Natalie ate her steak—medium rare, just how she liked it—in silence. She didn’t dare look up for fear of catching Adam’s eye again and having him see her still blushing over reenacting their prom picture. He’d pity her for hanging on to a crush for so long when a normal person would have moved on. He had surely moved on. As Natalie had. Her cheeks were betraying her.
And yet. Would indulging in her teenage fantasy for a day or two be such a horrible thing? She could flirt with Adam, have a little fun, and leave it all behind. She debated the issue as she ate. For a moment she found herself regretting—regretting!—moving so far away, even if getting into Juilliard had been a dream come true. But what would kissing Adam be like now that they were both grown? Not a peck on his cheek for the camera, but a solid, strong, long kiss on his lips. Like that would be happening.
At least she could let herself flirt until the wedding. Then it was back to reality.
Or maybe thinking about Adam at all was a mistake. She’d do better to curl up in her hotel room and watch a bunch of movies. That was safe. But instead of feeling excitement over the prospect of flirting with Adam, she felt dread. She grabbed her steak knife and cut the rest of the meat with far more force than necessary; she had to work off her nerves somehow.
Stupid wedding in stupid Vegas in the stupid summer. It was hot enough to fry your eyeballs just walking outside. Who got married in Vegas anyway, unless it was to elope at some drive-thru Elvis chapel? Too bad she hadn’t brought her flute so she could take out her frustrations on it. Forty-eight hours from now, she’d have her flute. Plus several big mugs of Mexican hot chocolate. The combination might do the trick.
Chapter Four
After dinner, Natalie excused herself—and handily avoided Adam, as she was in no condition to be flirting. She should have drunk more of the champagne. Maybe then she’d have loosened up. And not cared. But she didn’t like losing control like that, so she rarely drank much of any alcohol.
She headed up to her hotel room, only to discover that the chatter in her head was even louder when she was alone. She tried to watch TV, read a book, listen to music on her phone. None of it worked. She turned off the TV and headed to the tub for a bath. She got the water nice and hot, dumped in one of the mini bottles of shampoo, and let bubbles form. She sank into the water and forced all thoughts of prom and cold popcorn and the sunrise-that-wasn’t out of her mind. Soon she breathed nice and slow and could feel knots of stress unwinding in her upper back and neck. She stretched luxuriously then reached for her toiletry bag on the bathroom floor and pulled out her razor. Whenever she indulged in a bath, she shaved her legs. Drying off with silky smooth skin added the cherry on top for feeling that she’d pampered herself.
She smoothed some of the bubbles along her left leg and began the long, easy strokes with the razor. Four strokes in, her eyes landed on an old scar below her knee, and her hand stopped. The scar had become another part of her body, something she gave no thought to. But with Adam and her high-school years on her mind, the history of the scar came roaring back.
It was her junior year. She was driving home after a band concert—a great night, with a complicated flute solo that she got to perform. Half a mile from home, she’d rounded a dark bend. Her next memory was of waking up with EMTs working on her. She had no memory of the accident, which was caused by a drunk driver. As she sat in the bathtub, images from that time flashed through her mind. Needing surgery on her left leg and knee. The pain, the worry. The relief when her bumps and bruises healed and she knew for sure that her arms and hands were fine, that she hadn’t lost the ability to play the flute.
Adam had stayed at her side in the hospital every chance he got. He made jokes about how her black eye made her look tough. When she was released, he pushed her around school in a wheelchair. For her first week, before she had the strength to maneuver the wheelchair, he even got a hall pass allowing him to leave his classes early so he could help her to hers. Over spring break, when her family went to Disneyland, Adam asked to come along. He stayed in a hotel room with her little brother, next to the one Natalie, her sister, and her parents stayed in. He pushed her chair from ride to ride for three days to make sure she wouldn’t miss out on a thing. She’d teased him that the only reason he did it was to get on the rides faster through the wheelchair entrances, but she knew that wasn’t true.
Drawing a finger along the scar, Natalie swallowed against a knot of emotion in her throat. Adam had been kind and caring and selfless. He’d gotten her through a really rough time. It was during that trip when she’d first thought that Adam might be the one. They were inseparable from that point until graduation.
She shook her head and tossed the razor into her toiletry bag then quickly rinsed off her leg. So much for distracting herself with a bath. She drained the tub and dried off, trying to decide what to do now. She needed a distraction. She had no flute. Maybe she could find hot chocolate at one of the hotel restaurants. She was suddenly glad she hadn’t gotten her hair wet; it was still up in the twist from earlier.
After getting redressed, she touched up her makeup and hair then flipped through the guest book to decide on where to go. She decided to go to the hotel bar she’d passed on her way in. She needed a place with a crowd, where she could be an anonymous face and the noise would drown out her thoughts and she’d be less likely to bump into other members of the wedding party. That bar would do. Some of the other bars in the hotel wouldn’t—they had couches and cushioned chairs, which encouraged groups to gather and chat. The bar she’d passed had tables and chairs too, but it also had a nice long counter she could sit at, so she could blend in unnoticed.
She hoped it would be nice and crowded, and that the noise would be a nice surrogate for the buzz and hum of the City, which always helped distract her. Maybe some guy would flirt with her and buy her a drink. The thought lifted her spirits a tad, although as she stepped out of the elevator and clutched her purse, she realized what she’d been thinking and scowled. Was she so shallow as to let a total stranger make her day, with or without a free drink? What would she really do if a guy ordered her a beer, when she couldn’t stand the taste of the stuff?
Soon she found herself slipping onto one of the dark brown stools. Each had a bright red seat, matching the red and purple decorations, which complemented the gold accents and dark wood, as well as the winding staircase along one wall. The room was blessedly crowded and noisy. She found a stool on the far side of the bar, away from the staircase, and hoped to not only blend in with the crowd but to shake the thoughts she’d been having ever since seeing Adam in the wedding salon. Touching his arm. Smelling his skin. Kissing his cheek.
Stop it! She closed her eyes sharply and shook her head, ordering herself to knock it off. If hanging out in the bar didn’t work soon, maybe she could go see a movie, or at least rent one in her room and order room service, including that big mug of hot chocolate. The bartender came over to ask for her order. Natalie opened her mouth to a
nswer, but words fled her. She almost found herself ordering a virgin pina colada, as if she were a designated driver or something. But she wouldn’t be driving any time soon.
When she hesitated, the bartender raised his eyebrows, waiting for her answer. “Just holler when you’ve decided,” he said, and took a step away.
“She’ll take a Shirley Temple, and I’ll have a beer,” a voice said behind her. Adam. “And a large fry. Oh, and could you melt some cheese on it?”
So much for escape. But she couldn’t decide whether the jolt in her chest was annoyance or the electricity of attraction.
Chapter Five
Adam slid onto the stool next to Natalie’s. She seemed to brace herself before putting on a smile and turning to face him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same about you,” he said grabbing a few peanuts from the bowl on the counter. “You never did like alcohol back in the day.”
“Back in the day, I wasn’t legal.” She followed his lead, reaching for the bowl and picking out a couple of pretzels. She turned her back to him and looked at a mounted television, which broadcast a baseball game. Unless she’d changed drastically over the last seven years, she was faking her interest; she’d never liked baseball. In high school she’d come to cheer him on during his games, but that was the end of her interest in the sport.
“Which team are you rooting for?” Adam asked, nodding toward the TV. He’d call her out on her bluff. He could tell she was trying to avoid him, and he wanted to know why. Nerves? Anger? Did she despise the very thought of him?
Natalie’s mouth moved for a couple of seconds as if searching for the right thing to say. She faced the counter again and picked apart a pretzel. “Okay, fine. Neither. I came down here for a break.”
He could tell it was the truth. The question hung in the air, though: What did she want a break from?
“I needed a break too,” Adam said. The bar tender delivered their drinks. Adam thanked him then scooted the Shirley Temple in front of Natalie. “Here. I can get you a beer if you want it, but I remember how much you couldn’t stand it that one time we tried some at Jeff’s party. If I remember right, you wanted to puke after one swallow.” As he took a swig from his beer bottle, he noted the slightest hint of a blush on Natalie’s cheeks. He had an unruly urge to kiss them.
“In my defense, it tasted gross. And after drinking a whole can, Sierra said it made her brain feel fuzzy.”
Typical Nat—always the perfectionist, never wanting to be out of control. She used to plan out every day, and didn’t like spontaneous anything. Which was why for her sake, he probably should have discussed their post-graduation relationship over several days. Except that if he’d done that, he wouldn’t have had the guts to make it stick. Taking her off guard was the only way to protect her future happiness.
At least, that’s what he’d thought at the time. He’d been miserable away from her during college. Maybe he’d been wrong for both of their sakes.
He remembered how, after that one night of experimentation when they were sixteen, Nat had left alcohol alone for the rest of high school. Adam was willing to bet she hadn’t changed much even after turning twenty-one. At the rehearsal dinner, he’d paid attention to how she’d only sipped at her champagne, and mostly after toasts. Which made it all the more odd that she’d purposely seek out a bar for a distraction.
They sat in silence for a bit, each drinking here and there, and watching the game. He finally broke the silence after the bartender slid the plate the cheese fries onto the counter. He scooted the basket between them so Natalie could reach what used to be one of her favorite treats.
“Kind of wild to have the four of us all together again, huh?” He took a fry off the top, let the cheese stretch and break then bit the end.
“Just like old times.” Natalie pulled a cheese-covered fry off the pile and put it into her mouth.
“But it’s not really like old times, is it? We’ve all grown up and changed.”
“True,” she said, and ate her fry.
Adam eyed her, wondering just how much she’d changed. They’d both matured, grown up. But were they, at the core, the same people they used to be? He wanted to believe they were. The Shirley Temple and cheese fries had been a guess on his part, and the fact that she seemed to still like both gave him hope—perhaps a silly one—that other things were still the same too.
Like maybe she still had feelings for him. I’d better act fast, though; we don’t have much time together. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and tried to sound casual. “It’s even weirder to be at Jason and Sierra’s wedding in the middle of nowhere.”
At that, Natalie turned from the TV to face him. “I know! Why Vegas in the dead of summer?”
“Jason says it’s a special place to them. They met here or something, didn’t they? I don’t get it, but I’m here to support them.”
“That’s why I’m here too.” Natalie stirred her drink with the thin red straw then tried to pierce the cherry at the bottom, but it spun away. “It’s good to see you guys again. It’s been a long time. I keep in touch with Sierra, of course, but you and Jason not so much.”
Actually, me not at all.
“It’s been way too long,” Adam said, hoping she’d sense his eagerness to reconnect. But Sierra’s comment rang in his ears; their lack of communication was his fault. Nat wouldn’t friend him on Facebook or contact him because he broke up with her.
He cleared his throat and tugged the fry basket toward him and then pushed it away, as if that would get rid of the nervous energy building inside him. Nat glanced over, eyebrows together, as if she was surprised he looked nervous. Yet he was so nervous, he felt as if he stood on the edge of cliff. And he was about to jump off it. Tonight was his only shot at getting her back. Here goes nothing.
“Do you remember the night we won the state basketball championship?”
Natalie smiled in spite of herself. “Of course.”
It was early March of their senior year, one year after her accident. Graduation already loomed in their future. They’d already gotten their acceptances to Juilliard and Cal Tech. That night, after watching their team take the state title, she and Adam had celebrated with takeout from their favorite hamburger joint. Adam had brought along a blanket, and they ate their very late dinner under the stars at a park.
Nat lay beside him on the blanket. They both stared up at the bright pinpricks of light. He had no idea what she’d been thinking about, but already he dreaded June, when they’d be heading off for different universities, thousands of miles apart.
“Just think,” she’d said. “This fall, when we’re apart, we’ll be able to look up at the same sky.” The thought seemed to give comfort at the time, but Adam couldn’t answer her. She’d go to Julliard and be wooed by some cellist. And that would be that.
Natalie laughed. “I also remember getting kicked out by the cops because the park had an eleven o’clock curfew, and it was nearly midnight.” She shook her head. “My parents still don’t know about that.”
But that wasn’t the part of the evening Adam was focused on. He swallowed back his nerves and touched her arm. She looked at his hand, then lifted her eyes to his questioningly. She didn’t pull away. A good sign, he hoped.
“Do you remember our promise?” With his other hand, held up a French fry to remind her.
She blinked a few times and nodded without words. Her eyes looked watery. What did that mean? Was the memory a happy one, or sad one?
Finally, she spoke softly. “Of course I do.”
Emotion filled her voice. He would have given anything to know which emotion.
They were both 25 now. He’d been an idiot, hoping she’d forgive him enough to contact him first. He was done with waiting. He had to act. Grab the brass ring if he possibly could. He tried to appeal to the eighteen-year-old who’d gazed at the stars with him that night—the one who took seriously deals made by teenagers under a ro
mantic moon.
Adam selected a particularly long fry from the basket and held it between them, just as he had that night so long ago. After a pause of hesitation, Nat smiled and took the other end. Adam started breathing again, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.
That night on the blanket, he’d broached the idea that they might not make it. In the back of his mind, he’d already decided to set her free, but just in case, he proposed a deal: When they turned twenty-five, if neither was married, they’d get hitched.
It had seemed ridiculous at the time even to him. Of course they’d be married. Or Nat would be. No way would someone so amazing and talented and beautiful not be taken by then. It was silly, and he knew it at the time, but if making the deal gave him the guts to break up with her when June came.
As they had seven years ago, they both pulled on the fry, like a wishbone from a turkey. It broke almost exactly in half. Their eyes met. After a beat, Adam looked down at the broken fry. “So what does that mean?”
“It means we were young and silly, but we had great taste in fries.” Natalie dipped hers into the little plastic cup of dipping sauce and popped it into her mouth.
Adam’s heart deflated a bit. He tried to come up with another way to broach the subject, but failed before Natalie went on. “So… are you still single?”
Now his heart rate picked up as a tiny beam of hope shot through him. He cleared his throat. “Sure am.” Praying she wouldn’t pull away, Adam reached for her left hand, which was resting on the bar, and stroked her bare ring finger. “You?”
She looked at their hands and turned hers to hold his. “As single as they come.” She smiled wanly. “Except that Sierra says I’m married to my flute.” Her cheeks were flushed bright red now. Adam was dying to know what she was feeling. She hadn’t pulled away, which was a very good sign. But maybe she held his hand simply as a friendly gesture.
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection Page 18
