by Fawkes, Sara
way they both squirmed.
“Adele, don’t do this.” Mal’s own expression hardened, and I knew him well enough to see that his
temper was rising. “You’re overreacting.”
I slung my bag onto my back and fisted my hands on my hips. Okay, fair was fair. I’d give him one
last chance.
“Tell me, then. Tell me honestly that you aren’t worried about what people will think if you
brought me to your super- special fraternity dance.” My voice dripped with sarcasm, and he flinched
at the words.
Flinched... then looked me in the eye and remained silent.
I wanted to scream. And more than that, I wanted to cry.
No fucking way I was going to do that in front of these three stooges.
“That’s what I thought.” I said quietly, my eyes raking over the face that I thought I’d known so
well. Mal looked stricken, and angry, and hurt.
I hoped that I looked calm, though I felt anything but.
“Check ya later, guys.” I looked at Drew and Ian and forced myself to smirk, mask of bravado
fully in place.
That mask faltered when I turned back to Mal, one final time. I grabbed on to my hurt and held
tight, counting on it to get me through.
“We’re not as different as you think, you know.” My throat was thick with unshed tears as I turned
to walk away. “But I guess I’m the only one who sees that. So have a nice fucking life.”
Chapter Three
MAL
Adele was avoiding me.
I’d called and texted her every day, but she hadn’t responded. I’d drawn the line at going to her
apartment, because in my books that was borderline creepy, but I was getting desperate.
I’d been an ass. I couldn’t deny it. However, what I’d said—or hadn’t said—had nothing to do with
how I actually felt. She’d given me almost three weeks now to think about that, about the emotions
that the redheaded spitfire brought out in me.
I wanted her back. I just didn’t know how to bridge the chasm that I’d forged with my thoughtless
words.
Across the table from me my date Laurie gasped over something on the screen of her cell phone. I
repressed the urge to roll my eyes, as I’d done countless other times that night. It should have been
fun, the formal party with my fraternity brothers and tons of hot sorority chicks, alcohol flowing
freely, good music played by some popular Australian band.
I was miserable.
Laurie was a member of my frat’s sister sorority. Blonde haired, blue eyed, with tanned skin, white
teeth and big boobs, she was everything I’d always looked for in a girlfriend—prelaw like me, she was
pretty, came from a good family, was headed for an Ivy League school. She had impeccable manners,
could hold up a decent conversation, and if I was interested she would probably lift up the satin skirt
of her formal gown and initiate some perfectly acceptable sex when I walked her back to her dorm at
the end of the night.
I wasn’t interested at all. It wasn’t fair to Laurie, but I couldn’t stop comparing her to the woman
who turned to liquid heat under my touch.
Where Laurie was a pleasant spring day, Adele was a raging thunderstorm, sweeping sheets of rain
and electric bolts of lightning. She was in my blood, and I couldn’t get her out.
I didn’t want to.
Laurie gasped again. I barely repressed a wince.
“What’s up?” I asked, and since I’d been raised to be polite, I tried to keep the fact that I wanted to
be somewhere else out of my voice.
Laurie looked at me with wide eyes, sliding her cell phone across the table to me.
“Some Omega Pi guys just posted these crazy pictures on Facebook of some three-way hookup at
their party two weeks ago. I’ve seen the girl around. I can’t say I’m surprised. She looks like the kind
of chick who’d be into that, you know?” Pursing her lips in judgment, she shook her head slightly. “I
guess it’s gone viral. Serves her right for acting like a slut.”
Incredulous, I looked at her, the pretty blonde who was supposed to be an ideal match for me. She
smiled as she tapped her cell phone, wanting me to look at some pictures of some big school scandal
that was none of her business and that she would undoubtedly perpetuate regardless. I had no interest
in looking at those pictures; in fact, her attitude made me mad enough that I knew I’d do my best to
avoid them.
I stood there, the stupid custom made suit that my mom had ordered for me just for this event
effectively suffocating me, and felt like I was putting on a new pair of glasses, ones that actually let
me see.
I didn’t want this—this girl, this party, this quality controlled life.
I knew what I did want, though.
I wanted Adele.
Shaking my head at Laurie, who still looked like she expected me to pick up the cell and
participate in smearing the reputation of some girl I probably didn’t even know, I pulled my wallet
from my pants and peeled off a twenty.
“Here. Take a cab home. I’m out of here.” Normally I would have tried to sugar coat the words
more, would have feigned illness or something to spare the girl’s feelings.
In that moment I didn’t care. If she was willing to smirk over photos like that, then I didn’t think I
had to be overly nice in return. Plus, while I might have wanted to flatter myself, I knew that she
didn’t care about me any more than I did about her.
She would party with her friends. She’d be fine. And I’d be free to go to Adele.
Not waiting for Laurie’s reply, I turned on my heel and made my way through the crowd. The band
was on a break and their sounds had been replaced by a deejay, but the place was packed with
undulating bodies regardless.
I pushed my way through, only pausing to snatch a bouquet of flowers from one of the vases that
stood in the centre of every table. They were roses, classic red ones—not what I’d have chosen for
Adele, but I hoped she’d see the gesture behind the flowers regardless.
I was going to go see her. I had to convince her to give me a second chance.
Like a man possessed, I pushed through the last of the crowd and burst through the doors that led
outside. It was colder out than it usually was mid November, and the chill shocked me out of the
tunnel vision that was blinding me.
Halting, I sucked in a lungful of the frigid air as I worked through the crazy mess that had been my
mind since I’d met Adele Cavanaugh.
What if she refused to let me in? What if she threw the flowers back in my face?
I had to take the chance.
“Whoever you’re taking the flowers to, best not tell her you nicked ‘em from your fancy party.”
The male voice carried easily on the thin winter air, startling me, since I’d thought I was alone.
Turning around, I found the lead singer of the band that had been playing inside lounging against
the brick wall, the smoke from his cigarette curling upwards in sinuous spirals.
I nodded, not sure what else to say.
“Must be a special girl, to make you run out on all this.” The guy gestured with the hand not
holding his smoke, pointing to the party I’d just left behind. I heard the sarcasm on his Aussie-
accented voice. “Or guy. Whatevs. I won’t judge.”
Eyeing the strange man, I raised an eyebrow, not sure whether o
r not to continue this conversation.
But it was giving me a moment to calm my nerves before pounding on Adele’s door, so I went with it.
“It’s a girl,” I informed him, feeling like an absolute ass in my suit. Even though his band was
performing at a formal party, he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt covered by a leather jacket.
Unconsciously my fingers lifted to tug off my tie and release the top two buttons of my starched white
shirt. “The girl, I think. If I haven’t fucked it up.”
“Hmm.” The band guy took another drag from his cigarette, regarding me thoughtfully from dark
green eyes. “Well, we all fuck up, mate. But what the hell are you waiting around here for?”
It should have been weird, talking about this with some stranger, and even weirder still because
dudes just didn’t talk about their feelings, like ever. Still, I found myself responding.
“This is my last chance,” I told him, eyeing the cigarette. I wasn’t a smoker, couldn’t be if I
wanted to stay on the football team, but right at the moment I could have used the stress relief. “I have
to make sure I do it right.”
“If she’s the right one, then it’ll all work out.” Grinning at me, he dropped his cigarette to the
concrete and ground it out under his foot. He looked so casual, so comfortable with himself, so like
everything I wanted to be, that I scowled.
“Easy for you to say, dude.” I raked my fingers through my hair, blinking against the dryness in
my contacts. I wished I’d worn my glasses. Adele loved my glasses. “You’re in a band. You probably
have a different Miss Right every night.”
Which wasn’t what I wanted. No, I just wanted the one.
To my surprise, the spiky haired blonde man shook his head and let a thoughtful expression cross
his face. “Naw, mate. I could; you’re right about that. The sheilas dig musicians, that’s for sure.”
Rubbing a hand over his chin, he turned to study me. Again, I felt like this whole conversation
should have been really freaking weird, but instead it kinda felt like just what I’d needed.
“Don’t get me wrong—I’m no saint. But I believe in soul mates, fairy tales, happy ever after, all
that shit.” His eyes narrowed, daring me to laugh and yet unashamed at the same time. “And I tell you,
once I find the right one, I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine.”
If I’d been looking for a sign, this was it. I nodded, feeling my adrenaline surge.
Whatever it took to convince her, however much groveling I had to do, I was going to show Adele
that we were meant to be. I didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought.
In fact, introducing her to my parents would be entertaining as hell.
“Thanks, man.” I held out my hand to the other man, shaking when he accepted. “And I’m Mal, by
the way.”
“Dorian.” Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, Dorian removed a worn, folded up piece of
paper that turned out to be a promotional flier for his band. Three Little Words, the Aussie rockers
with a cult following at American colleges.
Slapping the paper into my hand, he nodded, then began to saunter back toward the door. I wasn’t
into dudes, but I could see why chicks would dig him.
Dude had swagger.
Dorian paused just before he opened the door, turning to look over his shoulder at me.
“The band’s e-mail is on that flier. Let me know how it goes with your sheila.” Grinning at me, he
saluted and pulled open the glass door. “Case you can’t tell, I get off on the romance stuff.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the bouquet of roses and a newfound determination.
Whatever it took. Adele was the woman for me.
***
With my heart in my throat, I knocked on Adele’s door. My fingers were numb from the cold—I’d
walked the whole way across the massive campus, the roses wrapped in my suit jacket for protection,
and I was fucking freezing.
The cold must have seeped into my brain as well, because I knocked two more times before I
realized that the glittery purple frame Adele had attached to her door was gone. Looking down at my
feet, I could just make out some of the bits of glitter, ground into the industrial weave of the cheap
carpeting.
Unease began to trickle through my gut. Something was wrong.
Though I supposed she could have been out for the night—and my mind didn’t want to think about
her spending the night anywhere but in my arms—I could tell that something was off. The space
behind Adele’s door seemed empty, devoid of life.
My stomach sinking like a boulder was nestled in it, I set the roses on the floor and marched down
the hall to the door marked ‘Building Manager’. It was after midnight, but for the first time in my life
I didn’t give a shit, pounding on the door until I heard someone fumbling with the deadbolt.
The door swung open, and I found myself face to face with the biggest man I’d ever seen. Built
like a tank, he was wearing an undershirt and boxer shorts, and when he sneered at me I caught the
glint of a gold tooth in the upper row.
“Tell me why the fuck I shouldn’t beat your ass for waking me up.” The man’s bald head shone in
the neon light of the hallway. I looked him straight in the eye, prepared to be polite but not leaving
until I had an answer.
“Adele Cavanaugh. Apartment 4.” Fuck, this guy was big. I wasn’t exactly tiny, and I was fit from
football drills, but he made me feel like Mickey Mouse. “She’s not answering her door. I’m worried
about her.”
The big man grinned, rubbing a hand over his stubble. Shaking his head, he reached out and
thumped me on the shoulder, knocking me back a step.
“You poor fucker. Cavanaugh paid me the next month’s rent and hightailed it out of here three
days ago. Left most of her furniture and shit behind, but said she ain’t coming back.” He studied me,
that metallic tooth glinting. “Forgot to tell the boyfriend, huh? You’re better off. Girl like that’s too
wild for a pretty boy like you.”
I nodded stiffly as I walked back down the hall, trying to process what the big man had just told
me. I should have been pissed at yet another person commenting on how wrong Adele and I were for
one another, but my attention was caught on what he’d told me right before that.
My mind rejected it. I didn’t want to believe it. But I knew he was telling methe truth.
Adele was gone.
Chapter Four- Present Day
MAL
I lugged the last moving box into the tiny apartment and straightened, stretching out the aching
muscles that I’d used and abused all day. I looked around my new home as I tried to ease a
particularly nasty knot that had formed at the base of my neck.
“What a fucking dump.”
My words didn’t hold much heat, both because I was too tired after hauling my shit around all day,
and also because while the place was indeed a dump, I wasn’t all that upset to be living there.
After two years at an Ivy League school across the country, I’d never thought I would wind up
back here, in the town where I’d done my undergrad work.
But this summer I’d finally managed to find the balls to do what I’d been trying to do my entire
life. I’d told my dad to fuck off and let me lead my own life.
He’d responded by cutting off my cash flow.
I didn’t much care that I was now dirt poor, living on the tight budget provided by my student
loans. I was still in law, because I’d realized that that was what I’d truly wanted to study, but now it
was on my terms.
I was free.
Grinning, I headed to the ancient fridge in what was possibly the ugliest kitchen I’d ever seen. I’d
shoved a six pack of Bud in before I’d even started unloading my stuff from my truck, and now I
cracked open one of the icy cold cans and chugged half of the beer in one swallow.
There wasn’t much besides the beer in the fridge, even though the new roomie had been in
residence for a few days. I opened the freezer—no food there, either, just a cracked ice cube tray and a
frosty bottle of vodka.
I shook my head, not overly surprised. We’d kept in touch over the past two years, and though I
hadn’t seen him in person since the night I’d found out Adele had left, and didn’t know much about
his day to day life, he didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would stand at the stove wearing an
apron and cook me spaghetti with meatballs for supper.
I suspected we’d be eating a lot of Chinese takeout. Or ramen noodles, since I was poor and Dorian
shoved all his extra cash into equipment for his band.
The fact that the apartment was in the building where Adele Cavanaugh and I had fucked like
bunnies years ago was something I was trying not to think about. Even the shadow of the glittery
frame that had once adorned her door was gone, as if she’d never existed at all.
Maybe she hadn’t. To get on with my life, I’d sure as hell tried to convince myself of that.
I finished my beer, something in my gut twisting uncomfortably at the mere thought of Adele.
“It was two years ago, dumbass. Get over it already.” Scowling at my own stupidity, I crushed the
empty beer can between my palms and kicked at a cardboard box labelled pillows.
I’d never been over it—over her—because I’d fucked up something special and hadn’t had a
chance to make it right. Add to that the fact that I was moving into her old building, and the fact that
my girlfriend Emma and I had just decided to see other people, and it was no wonder that Adele was
weighing heavily on my mind.
Feeling like a complete creep, I moved to the front door and opened it. Sticking my head into the
