Chapter Sixteen
Blake
O f everything I’ve learned about Adrian, the thing that surprises me the most is he listens to a lot of Rihanna. I’m not judging nor am I complaining. It’s just… endearing to see this gorgeous, always-cool-always-collected man sing along to Only Girl (In The World) . I’m talking about choreographed hand movements here.
We’re heading back to the clinic after we finished our ice cream and picked up my tires, making it my third car ride with him. Yesterday, when he took me home, I noticed a few classics playing quietly. I mean, I may not be as big of a fan as him, but no one can just skip over the intro to Take Care without at least subtle lip-syncing along. It wasn’t until this afternoon that we got stuck in traffic that I noticed he might be really into her.
Umbrella played, followed by Rude Boy and Birthday Cake . That’s when the lightbulb went off. I mean, he knows every word. It’s impressive. We’re listening to the sensual words of Skin as we turn down the street of the clinic. He’s quietly singing along, bobbing his head as we roll to a stop. I’m watching from the corner of my eye, hoping he doesn’t notice how hard I’m blushing just from the lyrics of this fucking song.
I mean, obviously I’ve heard it before. But I’m usually alone.
No, I’m always alone. So I can’t think of a single time that I’ve been in a situation where I had to sit through a dirty song or graphic movie scene with anyone. Well, other than Margo and Meera; they hardly count in this case.
It’s just a song. Adrian clearly knows that. Rationally, I know that. So I’m trying to pretend like I’ve spent the last couple minutes thinking about anything other than what his skin would feel like on mine. All I have to imagine from real-life experience is mediocre hook-ups at best. And I can only hope—no, scratch that, I know —Adrian would be better than that.
No hate for the few boys I’ve been with. We were just teenagers. None of us knew what we were doing. But I can truthfully say there was effort on their parts. What more can a teenager hope for?
It’s not like I’ve never orgasmed, just not with someone else. I know enough about my body to know how I can get myself off with my own hands, and sometimes the help of a small bullet vibrator. I don’t love full length romance novels—or books in general—and porn almost always grosses me out. But some of the erotic short stories that female-centered sites have, get the job done well enough. There are even some ‘series’ I follow.
I wonder what my librarian mother would think. I mean, it’s not a book, but it is reading .
I accidentally let out a quiet laugh, and Adrian gives me a curious glance. Yet he doesn’t push, somehow always knowing the right moments to leave me be. Instead, he just settles back into our comfortable silence.
Either way, my point is, even though I haven’t experienced an orgasm with a partner yet, I don’t feel totally helpless either. I feel like with the right person, we could figure it out together.
And now my thoughts have spiraled out of control all because of a song and the steady, somehow erotic bob of his head. I’m not saying Adrian is that person. Not that he couldn’t be either…
Only that I’ve had a lot of experiences tainted or taken from me in general. And yet, somehow, even though I went to an all-girls school and haven’t ever had a real boyfriend, all of my sexual experiences have been pleasant. Not earth-shattering, stars-bursting euphoria, but learning experiences that I never left feeling hollow. I can’t say the same thing about how I felt going home from school every day.
So, I feel hopeful that one day I’ll experience a mind-blowing moment like that.
But no matter how great of a day it was, or how much he flirted with me, today is not that day. Turning into the parking lot and finding my dad standing against my car, phone to his ear most likely talking to my mother, is a stark reminder.
Adrian pulls into a spot near my car, leaving enough room to put the new tires on.
“She’s here,” I hear my dad mutter into the phone. Yup, my mom. “I’ll call you back, sweetheart. I’m going to help Adria—yes, of course. I’ll stop. I love you too.” His screen goes dark, and he pushes off the car. “Hi, honey. Adrian.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and nods toward the guy carrying one of my tires over.
“Hey, Tim,” Adrian answers before I can. He drops the tire and crouches to start lining it up. “How wa—”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Grinning over his shoulder at me, he just shakes his head. “I don’t mind at all, Blake.” I’m equally relieved and disappointed that he didn’t use his new nickname for me. I bite back my response and shrug shyly out of my dad’s hold. “How was the clinic today?” he continues without missing a beat.
And with that, they fall into a comfortable conversation as Adrian replaces my tires, and I stand to the side, shocked and watching.
It’s interesting watching my dad and Adrian interact outside of work. Last night, I had the same thought. It’s so easy for them.
My dad’s not as social as my mom or brother, but he’s not awkward like me either. Adrian, on the other hand, could have a full conversation with a taxidermied cat if he was left to his own devices. Yet there’s this underlying comfort between them, and more interests than just animal medicine. Like cooking—or in my dad’s case, grilling—and chess.
I’m embarrassed to say I never knew my dad was in his high school’s club until he mentioned it to Adrian last night. When I texted Grady and he said he didn’t know either, I felt slightly better.
But still .
After about twenty minutes, they’re finished and putting the spare back in the trunk of my car.
Slowly closing the small distance between me and them, I grab my keys from Adrian. “Thank you for doing that. And thanks for today, Adrian.”
“It was a good day,” he promises.
Clearing his throat, my dad turns to shake Adrian’s hand. “Thanks for all your help today. It made Selena feel better knowing Blake had someone to go with.” I scoff and roll my eyes but don’t say anything. “Anyway, I’m running to the store, so I’ll see you at home, honey.”
“Bye, Dad,” I call after him and face Adrian again.
“So,” he draws out and sways a little awkwardly. “I was wondering if I could have your number?”
“I—oh,” I start to answer before his question is fully processed. “You want my number ?”
“Uh, yeah,” he chuckles and looks away, running a hand down the back of his neck. “We’ve had dinner and spent the afternoon hanging out. I’d say that makes us at least friends. Right?”
Twirling my keys in my hands, my stomach sours at the prospect of being friend-zoned by him. And it confuses me a little bit after the day we spent together.
Against my better judgement, I nod and hold my hand out. Quickly, he unlocks the device and hands me it with his contact list open.
“There you go,” I mumble and hand him his phone back. Without saying anything, he takes it and types something in. Watching for a few seconds, I can’t tell what he’s doing exactly so I say, “Okay, well, I sh—”
Suddenly, my phone vibrates, and I have a message from an unknown number. Before I open it, I know who it is. And the short message that reads, ‘ Adrian :) ,’ is confirmation.
When I look back up at him, he’s slipping his phone into his pocket and taking a step toward me. “In case you ever need a ride or anything else, you have my number now.”
“Oh, okay,” I agree with a quick nod.
He smirks down at me and shakes his head. Gently lifting my chin with his thumb, he meets my gaze and says, “I hope you use it. Bye, Storm Cloud.”
Blinking up at him, I watch him pull his hand back and walk backward toward his car a couple spots away. He doesn’t break eye contact until he’s almost there.
As he’s about to turn, I call out, “Bye, Adrian.”
The last thing I see before getting in my own car is his bright smile and the appreciative look he throws my way over his shoulder.