by Susannah Nix
“Then you have to answer, no matter what.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Come on, what else are we going to do to pass the time? There aren’t enough people for ‘light as a feather stiff as a board.’”
She laughed to hide her nervousness as she sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with her legs steepled in front of her. “Are there any ground rules? Any subjects that are off-limits?”
He thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess there are certain questions that would be inappropriate to pose to a coworker. We wouldn’t want to upset Karen in HR.” There was an ironic lilt to his voice, like he meant exactly the opposite. Like he was dying to ask inappropriate questions that would make Karen in HR apoplectic.
“I feel like these are extenuating circumstances,” Olivia said, unable to help the smile that spread across her face. “We’re a little beyond the purview of HR regs at this point, don’t you think?”
They were sheltering in place during a natural disaster, sharing a motel room. A few hours ago they’d been spooning in this very same bed they now were sitting on. His erect penis had accidentally touched her leg, for Chrissake. Karen in HR would just have to deal.
“I think you’re right.” Adam grinned as he leaned back on his elbows. “The HR code of office conduct is pretty much a dot receding in the distance from here.”
“Okay.” Olivia laced her fingers together and straightened her spine. “In that case, I propose that for the remainder of the power outage, we aren’t coworkers anymore. We’re just friends hanging out. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Adam said, and a shiver of anticipation ran up her spine.
Let the game commence.
Chapter Fourteen
“Who goes first?” Adam asked.
“I don’t know,” Olivia replied, struggling to think of a question she wanted to ask him.
“I’ll go, then. How old were you when you lost your virginity?” He blurted it out with no hesitation, as if he’d been thinking of it for a while.
“Wow. You really just went for it without any kind of easing-in period, didn’t you?”
He shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “You said nothing’s off-limits.”
“Did I say that exactly?” She didn’t recall using those exact words, but she supposed it might have been implied.
“You didn’t say anything was off-limits. And you’re the one who said we’re just friends until the power comes back on.”
It was true. She had said that. She just hadn’t expected him to switch gears so abruptly.
Olivia grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs closer. “And I suppose you know when all your friends lost their virginity, do you?”
“You can’t ask me a question until you’ve answered mine—unless you want to use one of your passes.”
If he was starting with first sexual experiences right out of the gate, she could only imagine the questions were going to get even more personal and embarrassing from here, which meant she’d better hold on to her passes for dear life. “I was seventeen,” she said. “My turn.”
He nodded, displaying no reaction to her confession. “Hit me.”
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” It seemed as good a place to start as any, and turnabout was only fair.
“Twenty-one,” he answered, surprising her. “Who was he?”
“What?” She was still digesting the fact that he hadn’t had sex until he was in his twenties. A man as hot as this, who could probably have had anyone he wanted, and he’d waited. Why? Was it some chastity pledge, or something else? She wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure she was brave enough to do it.
“The person you lost your virginity with,” Adam prompted. “Who was he—or she, if it was a she?” His eyebrow quirked inquisitively.
“It was a he.” Olivia picked at a loose thread on her pants. This particular chapter of her life made her feel a little ashamed. “His name was Mike.”
“I’m gonna need more than that.”
“Then you can ask another question on your next turn.”
“No, I didn’t ask what his name was. You have to tell me who he was to you.”
“Fine. He was a senior I dated for a couple months my junior year of high school. We were in theater together, and I did his makeup for Oklahoma. He took me to prom, and we had sex in the back seat of his car outside the after-party at his best friend’s house. Satisfied?”
She didn’t mention that they’d had to split a six-pack of Zima to work up the nerve to do the deed, or that she’d broken up with him a week later, because she’d realized she didn’t really like him that much. She’d just been impatient to punch her v-card, and he’d seemed like the most expedient means to an end. She still felt guilty about using him like that.
“Romantic. Sounds like a real Casanova.”
She lifted her chin. “Maybe I was the Casanova.”
“I can believe it.” Something in Adam’s expression sucked the air out of her lungs. “Your turn again,” he prompted when she didn’t speak.
She struggled to think up a question. “Who was your first time?” It wasn’t very original to copy all his questions, but she wanted to know the full story.
He lay back on the bed and laced his hands behind his head. “Her name was Brie, and we dated for most of our senior year of college.” He spoke in a monotone, like he was reeling off facts from a textbook. “Our first time was at her apartment off campus, two months after our first date.”
Olivia searched his expression for some hint of emotion, but there wasn’t one.
His head swiveled her way. “Most embarrassing moment?”
This one was a no-brainer. “In third grade, Jenny Gleason made me laugh so hard I peed my pants in the lunchroom.”
“Poor third-grade Olivia.”
“Yeah, it was horrifying. I’m still in therapy over it.” She stretched her leg out and nudged him with her big toe. “Why did you wait so long to have sex?”
“Is twenty-one a long time to wait?”
“It is for some people.”
He shrugged without quite meeting her eye. “I wanted to wait until I was with someone I cared about. I guess I wanted it to mean something.”
Olivia’s stomach tightened. She wished she’d waited like he had. Then maybe her memories of her first time would be something she could look back on fondly instead of this unpleasant stew of awkwardness and guilt.
“Why do you wear so much makeup?” Adam asked.
A million different answers danced on the tip of her tongue. It would be easy to say something flip, or offer an easy half-truth. Instead, she told him the real reason: “Because I always feel like people don’t notice me otherwise. Like I blend into the furniture or something.” She tried to laugh, like it was no big deal rather than something rooted in her deepest insecurities, only it came out sounding hollow.
“I notice you,” he said. “Even without makeup. You always stand out to me.”
It was possibly one of the most romantic things anyone had ever said to her. Even though he’d said it matter-of-factly, like it was just a mundane piece of information he was sharing. And maybe it was. Maybe he hadn’t meant it to be romantic, and Olivia was reading too much into it.
Except his eyes. They were soft and serious, laser-focused on her with an intensity she definitely wasn’t imagining. The spark in his eyes burned bright enough to see even in the storm-filtered light, and it sent her stomach spinning into the outer reaches of the galaxy.
He stretched his arm toward her, in what could be considered a completely innocuous way, like he was just trying to get more comfortable—except for the fact that his finger grazed the back of her hand. It was the lightest of barely-there touches, but it seared into her skin, leaving a stripe that felt permanent.
She could barely get out her next question, the one she’d been dying to ask. “What happened to Brie?” She needed to know more about this woman who was his first time. She wanted to know everything abou
t her: hair color, shoe size, SAT scores. There were hours worth of questions tumbling around in her head. They could be here all day.
She wanted to be here all day.
The realization was punctuated by a distant rumble of thunder outside. For once Olivia was grateful for the storm and this whole cursed fucking trip. Because she was enjoying herself. She hadn’t thought about work in hours, and she wasn’t in any hurry to get back to the plant. All she wanted was to stay here talking to Adam, just like this.
“She got accepted to a graduate program in Ohio.” He was talking to the ceiling again, and he’d retracted his arm. The hand that had touched hers now lay on his chest, right above his heart. “We mutually agreed to end things when she left instead of trying to do long-distance.” He paused, and Olivia thought maybe he was going to add something else, but instead he looked at her and said, “Do you have any tattoos?”
“Yes,” she said. “Did you love her?”
He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Hang on, I want to know more about this tattoo—or is it multiple tattoos?”
“There’s only one, and you can ask when it’s your turn again. Answer my question first.”
The rain was starting to let up a little—it was no longer falling in sheets, just a simple, steady downpour—and the room wasn’t quite as dark as it had been. It made it easier to see Adam’s expression.
His eyes gazed straight into hers, and the sadness in their depths nearly took her apart. “Yes, I loved her. It broke my heart when she left. I wanted to follow her, but she didn’t want me to.”
“Did she tell you that?” It wasn’t her turn to ask another question, but she had to know.
“Yes. She said she wasn’t that serious about me. She didn’t want to be tied down.”
A sour feeling churned in Olivia’s stomach. “Shit, I’m sorry,” she said, both for asking the question and for the fact that it had ever happened to him. It was hard to imagine anyone saying that to him. What was wrong with this woman named after soft cheese that she couldn’t appreciate a man like Adam when she had him?
Only the thing was, Olivia knew exactly what was wrong with her. Because Olivia had been the woman who’d thrown away a perfectly good man before. A couple of times, actually. Just like Adam had been thrown away.
His eyes lowered, his lashes casting deeper shadows on his face. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”
He didn’t look like he was over it. Olivia could see the pain etched in his face as clear as daylight, and suddenly she didn’t want to ask him any more questions about Brie.
All her preconceptions about him had been wrong. She’d always assumed he was as lucky in love as a guy this gorgeous could be. Instead he was a serial monogamist who seemed to love selectively and hard, and who’d had his heart crushed at least twice before.
She wanted to give him a hug. She wanted to give him a lot more than a hug, but her brain intruded to remind her that was going too far. He didn’t want her like that.
But a hug she might be able to get away with now that they were friends.
“Now tell me about this tattoo,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “I need to know everything.”
She shook her head. “You’re gonna laugh.”
His eyes crinkled. “I hope so.”
“It’s on the side of my rib cage.” She felt her cheeks color. “It’s the White Tree of Gondor.”
He didn’t laugh, but he did grin. “You’re a way bigger nerd than I am.”
“Are you actually shocked? After I told you about my cosplay habit? Lord of the Rings was my first fandom.”
“Cosplay’s one thing, but a tattoo’s forever. Can I see it?”
“That sounds like a dare.”
“It’s not. It’s just a question. You can answer it however you want.”
She bit down on her lip, then reached for the bottom of her T-shirt. He’d just ripped a bandage off his heart for her, so she figured she owed him one.
Slowly, she raised her shirt up to the bottom of her bra, twisting so the tattoo was facing him.
He crawled toward her on the bed for a closer look, peering at it intently. His face was only a few inches from her skin, his breath a warm tickle that sent goose bumps skittering down her arms. He lifted his hand, his fingers hovering in midair like he wanted to touch it, but he didn’t.
Something surged beneath the surface of her skin, urging her toward him and craving the touch of his fingers. But she forced herself to hold still, even though it nearly killed her.
He lowered his hand. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She hoped it was too dark for him to see her blush as she lowered her shirt.
He flopped down on the bed beside her, cramming his pillow under his head. “Your turn.”
“Um…” She didn’t have another question ready. Her mind reeled as she curled up on her side, mirroring him. “Do you have any tattoos?” God, she was crap at this, regurgitating all his own questions at him.
“Nope,” he answered easily. “My mother would murder me.”
Damn. She’d really been hoping there was a tattoo hiding somewhere she hadn’t seen. Although, she’d seen a lot of him at this point, so that really only left his ass and his legs.
He chewed on his lip, gazing at her as he considered his next question. “Have you ever sent a nude selfie?”
She only hesitated a second before answering. “Yes.” Before he could ask a follow-up she blurted out her next question. “Favorite sexual position?”
His eyes widened slightly before skating away. Ha! She’d embarrassed him.
“You’re going to think I’m lame,” he said, rolling onto his back.
“Maybe.”
“It’s missionary.”
She snorted. She couldn’t help it. It was the most boring, vanilla possible answer.
He gave her a sheepish look without exactly looking at her. “It’s because I like the closeness and the eye contact. I told you it was lame.”
“That’s not lame. It’s almost stupidly romantic.”
Something like a smile curved his lips, but it was tinged with too much bitterness to qualify as one. “Almost stupidly romantic could be the title of my autobiography.”
“Or the title of your sex tape.”
It was his turn to snort in surprised amusement. “Tell me about your last boyfriend.”
It was an obvious line of inquiry, and she should have been ready for it, but she wasn’t. “Pass.”
“Fine,” he said, and she exhaled in relief. Bullet dodged.
Until he asked his next question: “Why don’t you want to tell me about your last boyfriend?”
“That’s cheating,” she protested.
“There’s no rule against it. Either answer the question or use another pass.”
She chewed on her lip. Technically, she could answer without having to tell him the thing she didn’t want to tell him. “I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want you to think badly of me.”
He rolled onto his side again and propped his head on his hand. “I won’t. I swear.” He looked so earnest it made her want to confess every bad thing she’d ever done in her life.
Except for this one thing, because she still felt so guilty it made her sick to her stomach. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.”
“Did you cheat?” There was an edge to his voice now.
“I’ve never cheated on anyone,” she told him honestly. That much, at least, she could claim.
Adam’s expression relaxed into a smile. “Did you murder him? Blackmail him? Sell him out to the mob?” He was teasing her now.
“The mob? Who am I? A nineteen fifties movie moll?” She laughed despite herself. “Nothing illegal or violent transpired.”
“Then I promise not to think badly of you.” He drew an arc through the air that encompassed them both. “This is a safe space. You can tell me anything.”
She
did feel safe with him. Lying face-to-face on the bed like best friends at a sleepover—or lovers staying up all night baring their souls. Like the two of them were in a cozy little bubble removed from the real world.
“I broke his heart,” she said, dragging the admission out of the blackest part of her soul.
Adam’s expression didn’t change. “How?”
“He asked me to move in with him and I said yes. But then when we started looking at apartments and talking about leases and consolidating our furniture, I chickened out. I realized I couldn’t do it—I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to want it, but I didn’t. Not with him.”
She’d expected Adam to react with contempt, but instead he looked at her with sympathy.
“You don’t owe anyone your love.”
She shook her head, remembering how much pain she’d caused. “I strung him along for nine months, letting him think I loved him. He was blindsided when I told him. Seriously, completely gutted.” She winced at the memory. “I’ve never hurt anyone that badly before.”
“You didn’t love him?”
“I thought I did, but…looking back on it, I think I just wanted to be in love. And I knew he loved me, so it was easy to go along.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. You didn’t hurt him on purpose.”
“But I still hurt him. I’m just as bad as your soft cheese girlfriend.”
“Brie.” Adam smiled. “Neither of you are bad. You can’t choose whether or not you love someone or how much. If you don’t feel it, you don’t feel it. Pretending’s not going to make anyone happy. At least you were honest with him. You did him a favor.”
Ryan had definitely not seen it that way. He was still making passive-aggressive comments about her on Instagram. “Is that how you felt when Brie ended things?”
“Not at first. But once the shock wore off, yeah. Can you imagine if I’d picked up my whole life and followed her? If she’d stayed with me out of guilt or obligation? We would have been miserable, and it wouldn’t have lasted, and then I’d have been dumped and living someplace I didn’t want to be.”
“I guess.”
“The fact that you’re carrying all this guilt around over this guy proves what a kind, caring person you are. You should forgive yourself.” He reached out, and Olivia held her breath as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve forgiveness.” His fingers brushed her cheek as he withdrew his hand, and her skin tingled as if it had been electrified.
