12. Adam
Chapter twelve
Adam
I n mid-January, Nicole pops into the doorway of my office, her hands grabbing either side of the frame as she leans forward. Her eyes sparkle, and her mouth twists up in a bright grin. We’ve been back to work for just a couple of weeks.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asks, her eyebrows quirking upward. The neckline of her mint green shirt dips down into a V, teasing the slightest hint of cleavage. Her black pants cling to her hips before flowing down around her ankles. My stomach flips over as I slowly bring my gaze back up to her face. She’s watching me, waiting for my response.
“Nothing,” I shrug. Well, not nothing. I plan to sit on the couch with my dog’s head on my lap as I play Civilization , but I know most people would not consider those “plans”, and besides, I’m guessing she’s asking for a reason, and I want to know what it is. Anything with her or having to do with her would absolutely trump my current plans.
“Awesome. I’m going to this thing called Soapbox over at the amphitheater on the island. Do you want to come?” She looks eager and hopeful, and I want her to look at me like that always.
“Yes,” I answer quickly, my head bobbing up and down.
She pauses, her eyebrows pulling together. “Don’t you want to know what it is first?”
Oh, yeah. I guess the social convention here would be to find out more before agreeing. “What is it?” I ask, knowing that even if she says it’s a seminar about the history of clowns, my answer won’t change.
Nicole leaves the doorway now and drops into the chair in front of my desk, folding one leg underneath her. She rests her forearms on the edge of my desk, gripping each of her elbows with the opposite hand. Leaning forward, she meets my eyes.
“It’s this event where people get up and speak for like five minutes, each to share a story or information on a topic they’re passionate about.” She pauses, or maybe just stops for a breath.
“Yes,” I say.
She gives me a puzzled look. “Don’t you want to know the topics for tonight before you decide?”
No. Don’t care. If Nicole’s inviting me, I’m going.
“Ah, sure. Of course. What are the topics?”
She tells me a bit about some of the speakers and what they’ll be talking about. No clowns, but one person will be talking about the art of mime through the ages, so pretty close.
“It starts at six, so we’ll need to go pretty much right after work, but they have local food trucks so we can get dinner there,” Nicole finishes explaining.
“Honestly,” I say, “it sounds great.” And it really does. This event sounds like something I’d go to on my own, if I had known about it. “I’m definitely in.”
Nicole’s face lights up, and my chest becomes a pinball machine. My heart pings wildly in every direction, and then, her beaming smile directed right at me causes a crescendo of flashes and clanging bells. It takes a minute or two for my body to regulate and my logical brain to click back into place.
“Oh, wait,” I start.
“What?” she asks, her face falling. She sits back against the chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “You can’t go after all?”
“I can ,” I say slowly, “but I’ll need to stop home first to let my dog outside. And it’s not exactly on the way.”
“You have a dog?” Her eyes flash with interest, and she leans forward again.
“I do. Her name is Joan. Maybe I can meet you there?”
“Well…” she hesitates.
“It’s just that it’s already a long day for her while I’m at work, and I don’t want to make her wait longer,” I clarify.
“No, I get it. That’s important. And responsible. It’s just…” she trails off again. Her cheeks turn pink as her eyes search my face beseechingly. Oh. Disappointment rolls through me when I realize what she’s trying to say, but I play it off .
“Ohhh,” I force my tone to be as light as possible. “I understand. You need a ride. You invited me for my car.” I force a smile so that she sees I’m teasing.
Her entire face is red now, and she winces at my words. Her chin dips down. “No,” she starts. “Well, a ride would make things easier for me, but…” Her jaw sets, and she lifts her face back up to mine. When she speaks again, her voice is firm. “I would like a ride, but I want it to be with you. It’s not about your car; it’s about you, Adam. I heard about Soapbox, and it reminded me of when we were talking in my office about graphic novels, and you said you like hearing people talk about things that interest them. I thought you’d enjoy it and that we could go together.”
I’m quiet for a moment as my breath bottles up in my chest, stuck as I consider Nicole’s words. She thought of me. She remembers my words from months ago. She wants to go with me . Finally, I nod and lick my lips, the tips quirking up slightly. Holding her gaze, I offer a solution.
“I would enjoy it, more so if we go together. How do you feel about riding with me to my house? I’ll walk Joan real quick and then we can head out?”
Nicole exhales a quiet breath and nods. She swallows before saying, “That works for me if you’re sure it’s okay.” She laughs nervously. “You might not want a random coworker at your house.”
We lock eyes. “You’re not a random coworker,” I tell her.
She tilts her head slightly, waiting for me to say more, but I don’t explain. Another beat passes .
“Okay then,” Nicole grits out, slapping her palms against her thighs and standing. “I’ll meet you back here in a few hours?”
I give her an easy smile. “Sounds great. I’m looking forward to it, Nicole. Truly.”
She dips her chin as she backs toward my office door, a shy smile playing at her lips. “Me too,” she says, and then she’s gone.
On the ride to my house after work, Nicole’s quiet. I don’t say much either, but my mind is spinning. Tonight will be the first time that Nicole and I will spend real time together outside of work. Driving her to the airport in December doesn’t count. I know what this means to me—letting her see more of who I am and hopefully breaking down her walls a bit more so I can know her better. She’s guarded—with me, but also with other colleagues at the library. She projects confidence in meetings, but I’m starting to get the sense that her confidence doesn’t extend to personal relationships. She holds back. I see snippets of her unfiltered personality from time to time, and I crave more. What I wouldn’t give to be someone she trusts enough to be vulnerable with, to be wholly herself around.
It’s a slow process. I’m deliberately holding back; spoon feeding her flashes of my feelings, my attraction. If she knew the depths of this crush, I’m certain it would overwhelm her. I feel a twinge of guilt. Am I lying to her? Manipulating her? I don’t pressure her though; this is at her speed. And the thing is, I know she enjoys the time we spend together. She sought me out for this event tonight. She invited me. Yes, she needed a ride, but I believe that it mattered to her who provided that ride. And she chose me. If we get to the friendship zone and never pass it, fine. I’ll find a way to deal with that. For now, though, she’s still seeing me as just a coworker, and I know we can be more to each other than that.
I pull into the driveway, and Nicole sighs happily. I turn in my seat to look at her. She’s staring up at my townhome.
“It’s so cute,” she breathes. “I’ve always wanted to live in a townhome. My family took a trip to Baltimore when I was a kid, and I just fell in love with the beautiful red brick rowhouses. I imagined this whole future for myself where I lived in one and worked for a publishing house in the city.”
Another snippet of the full Nicole. I tuck this knowledge into my memory, like a delicate piece of parchment sliding into an acid-free folder.
“So, what happened?” I ask.
She looks at me, as if only just remembering that I’m here. She studies my face, her eyes ticking back and forth as if calculating how much to reveal. Finally, she smiles.
“I realized that I don’t like the cold. And also, book publishing is probably not the right fit for me. Too competitive.” She shrugs and reaches for the door handle.
We get out of the car and step toward the door to my place just as a chilly breeze gusts through.
“It feels cooler out now than this morning,” I comment. “Must be a cold front. ”
Before Nicole can respond, I open the door and Joan’s right there, blocking our path with her tail wagging. I back Joan up enough for us to get through the door, and then she’s bumping her head against Nicole’s thighs in greeting. Nicole drops to her knees, scratching behind Joan’s ears and cooing to her in baby talk. Joan eats it up, angling closer until she’s practically on top of Nicole.
Laughing, I introduce them unnecessarily. “Nicole, this is my dog, Joan.”
Nicole lifts her face to mine for a moment, a wide grin on her lips. “Well, I hope so. Otherwise, what’s she doing here?” She immediately returns her attention to the wriggling pup.
I watch for a few moments, my heart squeezing in my chest. Nicole’s face is shining. She’s radiant. Her soft purple hair falls in front of her face as she bends her head toward Joan. Her lips are pursed as she sweetly croons praises, and her nose wrinkles adorably. I’ve never seen her look so beautiful.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I walk through the dining room space to the open kitchen to set my lunchbox on the counter. I deposit my computer bag onto the dining room table on my way back to the living room. When I pick up Joan’s leash from the side table, the metal jingles, finally wrenching her attention away from our guest. Joan bounds toward me. Nicole takes the opportunity to rise to her feet, clasping her hands together in front of her as she looks around the room.
“I’m going to walk Joan real quick,” I tell her as I snap the leash onto Joan’s collar. “Feel free to look around or have a seat or whatever. It shouldn’t take long.” Nicole looks nervous, so I offer her what I hope is a reassuring smile.
Joanie and I don’t do our typical thirty-minute walk, of course. I just take her around the block, giving her enough time to do her business before heading back to the house. The air has cooled even more, and I’m shivering as we step inside. January and February are typically our coldest months in north Florida, and by cold, I mean cold to me—with average highs in the sixties and lows in the forties. Occasionally a cold front will come through that drops us down an additional ten degrees or so for a few days. Feels like we’re heading into one of those now.
I dart my eyes around for Nicole and see her in the corner of the couch under a blue and gray buffalo check throw blanket. My heart almost stutters to a stop at the vision. She looks so cozy, so at home. Like I could slide under the blanket next to her and sweep her feet into my lap. Having her here, in my space, among my things, is messing with my head. I feel a yearning unlike anything I’ve felt before; a desire to hold her, care for her, protect her.
I’m not sure what she reads on my face, but Nicole smiles timidly as she moves the blanket and stands to walk toward me. She halts six feet away, hovering just out of reach.
“I got cold. Sorry if I overstepped at all.” Her chin dips toward the floor and my eyes follow. She’s barefoot, her shoes next to my spare flip-flops by the door.
“You’re fine,” I say, my voice gravelly. I clear my throat. “It’s actually getting pretty cold out there. You said the event is at the amphitheater? So outdoors? ”
She lifts her head to meet my eyes, concern on her face. “Yeah.”
“You can borrow one of my sweatshirts.” I wince at my own tone. Though I mean it as a suggestion, it comes out sounding more like a command. Nicole starts to protest, but I level her with a determined glare. “You’ll freeze. And you’ve already told me you don’t like the cold. It’s no trouble. Really.” My voice is gentler this time, mollifying.
Nicole nods. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “That would be really nice.”
Joan whines to remind me that she’s still on her leash. I let her loose and tell Nicole I’ll be right back. I run upstairs and grab a sweatshirt for myself. I deliberate a little over which sweatshirt to lend Nicole before chiding myself to not overthink it. I pull out a plain, dark green zipper hoodie.
When she puts on the hoodie downstairs, I realize my mistake. The sweatshirt is too big on her, of course. The sleeves swallow her hands, and she shoves them up, the fabric bunching around her elbows. The bottom hem hits her about mid-thigh. The color, though. It’s just a touch darker than her eyes, making them glow with an ethereal blaze. I literally cannot look away.
“Adam?” Nicole’s voice brings me out of my stupor. The look on her face is half amused, half annoyed, and I know I’ve been caught staring.
“Yeah,” I grit out.
“Ready to go?”
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Dragging a friendly smile back to my face, I answer, “Yep! All set. ”
We both say goodbye to Joan, who is not thrilled we’re leaving again so soon. In the car, I turn up the heat and activate the seat warmers. We’ll be especially glad for those when we’re trying to defrost after the event.
I glance at the passenger seat and my chest tightens. Nicole sitting there, in my sweatshirt, her smile lighting up the car, feels natural. Like she’s always been by my side. Like she always should be.