Chapter Fourteen
LYLA
“Thank you for doing this.” I looked over at Adam as he put the car in park in front of my parents’ small farmhouse.
Things between us seemed back to normal, and there had been no more weird moments like the other morning. But there hadn’t been many opportunities for a repeat over the last two days, either. He’d left for his shifts before I woke up, and he’d been getting home late as well.
“Of course.” His smile had a hint of mischief behind it. “Maybe I can convince your mom to show me some embarrassing but adorable pictures of you from when you were a kid.”
Oh God.
My eyes widened almost comically. That was the last thing I wanted to happen.
My hair always looked like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket, and my cheeks were always unnaturally rosy, like I’d been running around for hours.
Don’t even get me started about how my face reminded me of a squirrel carrying nuts.
He laughed as he climbed out of the car, and I rolled my eyes at his ridiculousness.
My mom met us at the door, ushering us inside. “Come on in, dinner’s almost done.”
“Can I help you with anything?” I asked her as Adam greeted my father.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
I followed her into the kitchen, leaving Adam in the living room with my dad.
After twenty questions about how I’d been feeling, if I was getting enough rest, eating enough, drinking enough, and her concerns about the lingering headaches, I was thankful I’d decided not to stay with them.
She barely let me answer a question before she was rambling onto the next one.
I loved her and knew she meant well, but sometimes she was exhausting. Finally, I let out a long sigh.
She studied me before her face fell. “I’m sorry. You know me, I worry about you.”
I nodded. “I know, Mom.”
“Do you want to let the boys know dinner’s ready?” she asked as she carried a bowl of corn to the table.
“Yeah.”
When I stepped into the living room, they were both fully engrossed in the football game on the TV, yelling about some bad play they both disagreed with. I couldn’t help but smile as they followed me back to the kitchen, talking the whole time about how each of the teams were playing.
Dinner started off just fine, but of course I couldn’t do anything without a catastrophe following close behind. Almost like it happened in slow motion, my hand swiped Adam’s glass of ice water, toppling it over and spilling the contents onto his lap.
“Damn it.” I grabbed the napkin from the table and began dabbing at his jeans. “I’m so sorry.”
He grasped my hand, pausing my movements just as I realized what I was doing.
“It’s okay.”
I glanced up at the rasp in his normally smooth voice, and something intense flickered in his gaze. I’d never seen that look before and I didn’t know what to make of it. Was he mad?
“See, I told you.” My mom snickered.
Reluctantly, I turned my attention over to my parents. My mom smirked at my dad while my dad narrowed his eyes on Adam.
Who knew what she was suddenly gloating about. Probably her theory that Adam and I were more than friends. I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t like I spilled water on him on purpose just so I could try to cop a feel at the freaking dinner table.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and I cursed my clumsiness. The next five minutes crawled by, the awkwardness lingering until I reached for my own water, nearly knocking it over.
Adam, quick on the draw this time, saved it from spilling. With a smirk on his face, he took one last bite and pushed his plate away. “I bet there were a lot of skinned knees when she was a kid.”
My mom nodded dramatically. “Skinned knees, elbows, random injuries, and lots of messes.”
I sighed, exasperated at her willingness to overshare. “Way to throw me under the bus, Mom.”
Honestly, though, I was thankful his teasing broke the tension.
She chuckled. “But once she started dance classes, it got a lot better.”
Adam’s brows rose and he turned toward me, placing his arm along the back of my chair. “You danced?”
“Yup.” The fact that I didn’t constantly topple over while I danced was a constant source of surprise for all of us.
And the classes actually helped my coordination, posture, and spatial awareness.
“Started in fourth grade and continued all the way through my senior year.” I shrugged.
“I wasn’t the best, but I became pretty good. ”
“We tried a few sports first. It was…not good.” My mom’s nose wrinkled like she smelled something bad.
Dad scoffed. “That’s an understatement. I swear, I was convinced the ball would purposely seek her out. And it didn’t matter what kind. Softball, soccer, lacrosse. She got hit by every single one, multiple times.”
Adam cocked a brow at me. “So does that mean you won’t be participating in the volleyball game in February?”
“Definitely not.” I wasn’t stupid enough to even try that. “I would probably end up with another concussion.”
“I have a ton of pictures from her dance recitals over the years that I can pull out.” My mom smiled proudly.
“He doesn’t want to see a bunch of pictures of me as a kid.”
“Oh, I totally do.” His smile was genuine, but maybe with a hint of mischief. “I need to see proof of this dancing thing.”
I swatted his stomach with my good arm. “You’re ridiculous.”
Part of me was sure he was joking, but twenty minutes later, he sat next to my mom on the sofa as she showed him the dance album she’d created many years ago. I didn’t understand why this was important to him. Ammo to tease me with later?
I shook my head and went back into the kitchen to start rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.
After a few minutes, Adam entered the kitchen and sidled up next to me. “Here, let me.”
“I am perfectly capable of loading a dishwasher.” I raised a brow, daring him to challenge me.
“Without spilling water everywhere?”
I gathered a handful of water, throwing it at him and then smirking. “Oops. I guess not.”
He took a step forward, that mischief back in his eyes, and reached out, grabbing the sprayer. I quickly moved away from the sink before he could spray me. But he just grinned as he took over putting the dishes in the dishwasher. I huffed and crossed my arms.
Damn him.
He stole a glance over at me. “Did you enjoy dancing?”
“Yeah. I did.” I grabbed a dirty glass from the island and brought it over to him.
“You’ve never mentioned it.” He reached out to take the glass from my hands.
Our fingers brushed, and I froze as it sent a zing up my arm. I yanked it back and turned toward the island, attempting to catch my breath.
What the heck was that? I didn’t understand why I was suddenly having these moments with him. Maybe the bump on my head was somehow causing these weird things to happen.
Totally possible.