Chapter 9 #3
A few rounds later, I was tipsy, so slightly less miserable.
Adam looked sleepy, judging by his heavy-lidded, glassy stare.
He had also been acting strangely since we came here for several reasons.
First, he sat way too close to me. Second, his leg was pressed against mine, hip to ankle, and it was deliberate, not accidental.
Third, he draped his arm over the armrest, letting it rest above my shoulders.
We probably looked like a fucking couple, and the idiot had no idea.
I didn’t have the energy to point it out to him, although it didn’t go unnoticed.
I saw Maddox mouthing “wow” after giving us an incredulous stare, just as two more people joined us at the table.
“Imagine meeting you lot here,” Detective Tye “The Viking” Thorsen said, pulling up two chairs. “What’s up, losers?”
“This is a nice surprise,” I said, fistbumping him. “What are you two doing in our neck of the woods?”
“We were passing by,” Detective Dominic “The Trigger” Carter replied, sitting down next to Thorsen. “Obviously, we couldn’t resist seeing the old gang.”
Carter and Thorsen got out of the LD after they caught the Butcher of Smitsville, a notorious serial killer.
Carter was a black-clad grump who looked more like a model than a cop.
Thorsen was a Viking-lookalike mountain of a man with a sunny disposition that contradicted his size.
Their differences didn’t stop them from falling for each other or becoming life partners as well.
After they were transferred to Grangetown, their life took a turn for the better.
“Someone misses Shitsville,” Adam snickered. “That’s adorable.”
“Still an asshole, huh?” Carter said, giving him a once-over.
“Still trigger-happy, huh?” Adam retorted.
“Only around his husband,” Thorsen said, smiling sweetly. “I would go into the particulars, but they would make you blush, Markland.”
Adam rolled his eyes, and I had to smile, because it made him look like a petulant child.
“Where are you headed?” I asked the newcomers, although I had an inkling.
“To New Mesa,” Thorsen replied. “I’m Bazooka’s best man, as you well know, and he needs urgent backup. Apparently, their wedding planner messed something up, and Luz is on a killing spree.”
I chuckled. “I know what you mean. As the other best man, I get daily updates from Luz, along with his fits of rage.”
Adam, whose hand was now on my shoulder for some reason, looked at me with a frown.
“I didn’t know that you agreed to be Luz’s best man.”
I blinked. “Why would you?”
His expression suggested I should have told him, which was ridiculous. He was never interested in my life before, but now he acted as if I’d committed a war crime by not telling him this. I wasn’t the only one confused, either. The looks Carter and Thorsen exchanged were priceless.
“Oh, these two are pals now,” Maddox said, pointing at us. “I would tell you all about it, but I don’t want to get punched in the face.”
When Carter gave me a “what the hell is going on” look, I gave him a helpless “I have no idea, please, help” shrug. He knew better than anyone how much Adam had disliked me in the past, so no wonder he was baffled.
A few rounds later, we called it a night.
Carter and Thorsen left first. John Smith was the designated driver, so he drove the rest of the gang home.
I was tipsy, so Adam drove me to my place because that man could drink like a skunk, and it never affected him.
He has been strangely silent, though, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Was he still mad at me? Or just sleepy?
“I didn’t think you would be interested in me being Luz’s best man,” I said when the silence became uncomfortable. “I’m not used to you being interested in my… whatever.”
“Mmm,” Adam hummed noncommittally.
“Are you going to the wedding?” I asked him.
“Probably not.”
Everyone from the Loser’s Division was invited, even Adam. Luz threatened to rescind his invitation if “you don’t start listening to reason, Jordie.” By reason, he of course meant him.
“If you want, we can go together,” I suggested, fiddling with my phone. “It’s not as if I have a plus one.”
“I don’t think so.”
That was rude, but by then we reached my building, so I decided to give it one more try. Why? First, because I was an idiot. Second, because after spending time with him, I was Adam-addicted, Adam-deprived, and Adam-obsessed.
“Um… do you wanna come up, maybe?” I mumbled without looking at him. “I mean… like for a drink or something.”
“No, thank you,” Adam said curtly, but it sounded more like a “fuck off” than “thank you.”
I rolled my eyes, giving up. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
Once in my apartment, I slammed the door behind me, angry with both him and me.
I headed to the kitchen, hoping to find more alcohol there, when I noticed a note on the fridge that I’d left for myself.
The note said: Have you paid the rent? The answer to that was: No, I have not, because my dick is doing all the thinking lately.
“You’re an idiot,” I muttered, just as my doorbell rang. I pulled the wallet out of my pocket and headed toward the door, counting the bills.
“Coming,” I bellowed. “I have the rent here, Mr. Walt—”
When I opened the door, I forgot to finish my sentence because it wasn’t Mr. Walton standing on the doorstep. It was Adam Markland.
“You’re not Mr. Walton,” I blurted.
“Not the last time I checked.”
I had no idea what was happening. Did he come here for that drink after all? Unlikely. Or maybe he came here to chat. That sounded even more unlikely. Maybe he forgot to tell me something. Or maybe something happened, work-related. Or… what?
“Can I come in?” he said, cocking his eyebrow.
“Yeah, of course,” I said, realizing that I’d forgotten to invite him in. “What… ah… what’s going on?”
When I closed the door, Adam rested his hands on his hips, glancing at me. “I can’t sleep.”
Oh.
“Right,” I mumbled, lowering my gaze. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me too,” he quipped. “This…” He looked around. “This looks nice.”
He sounded as if he expected me to live in a place filled with haunted dolls and dismembered body parts. Instead, it was a small, cozy apartment with antique furniture, not enough lamps, and too many cushions.
I rubbed the back of my neck, not knowing how to proceed.
“So, erm… can I offer you a drink?”
Adam looked out the window before turning toward me.
“Can I stay here tonight?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Can I stay here tonight?” he repeated, only to clarify. “To sleep.”
I was shocked. And confused. And afraid. Luz’s words of warning kept repeating in my head, but they were growing more silent with each passing moment.
“Um, I—”
“I’ll compensate you for your hospitality,” Adam cut in. “Just name your price.”
I was stupid enough to consider it. Luz may have been right, but I wasn’t the type of man to let his friend down. Well, maybe calling us friends would be a stretch, but I still wanted to help him out. Also, I planned to get something out of it.
“Okay,” I said finally. “I want you to promise me you will never call me a weirdo again.”
“You got it.”
“And you will make me that dinner.”
Adam nodded. “Agreed. What else?”
“I’m…” I had to force the next words out, but it had to be said. “As I mentioned before, I’m attracted to a dick. If I pop a boner or two, despite your charming personality, I don’t want to be embarrassed about it.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
So, he really was desperate.
“Ten bucks.”
I said it only to save face.
He took the wallet out of his pocket and threw the bill on the sofa.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
It was a simple enough question, but I still struggled answering it.
“Down the hall and to the left.”
Adam headed there, taking off his T-shirt and making my jaw drop. What in the ever-loving fuck was going on? He was all over me at Pete’s, then he acted as if I were a leper in the car, and now he was spending the night here?
When he disappeared into the bedroom, I swallowed with difficulty, not knowing what to do. I was still standing there when he banged on the wall, making me flinch.
“Yo!” he bellowed. “I fucking paid.”
I hurried into the bedroom, only to trip over the doorstep when I saw him sprawled on the bed, half-naked.
It meant he left his boxers on, but everything else was on display.
A massive, hairy chest, check. Thighs thick like tree trunks, check.
Abs sculpted from marble, check. When Adam tucked his arms under his head, presenting me with his armpits, I gulped.
I thought his armpits were quite beautiful, which made me wonder if I had an armpit fetish I didn’t know about.
I forced myself to shift my gaze to his bulging biceps, which looked capable of tearing a wall down.
“What are you waiting for, princess?” Adam said, smirking. “Strip.”
Jesus.
I checked my phone for the time to postpone the inevitable. “Don’t you want to watch a movie first… or something?”
Adam laughed. “This is not a date, Jordan. I paid you for a sleepover, not cuddling in front of the TV.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I growled, already regretting my decision to let him stay. “It’s early… that’s all I meant.”
“Not for me,” he deadpanned. “I haven’t slept in three days.”
And just like that, I felt like a massive idiot. How insensitive could I be? The man suffered, but he still showed up on time for work every morning, and he was always the last to leave the station.
As I stripped, Adam watched me, which was disconcerting to say the least. It made me aware of every movement I made, be it slipping out of my shirt or unbuttoning my pants.
As I undressed, his blue gaze lingered on me, moving as I moved.
By the time I took off all my clothes except briefs, my cheeks burned with embarrassment.
“You didn’t have to stare,” I mumbled, draping my pants over the chair.
“You have nothing I haven’t seen before,” Adam quipped, sounding amused. “Are you shy?”
There was no point in talking to him. He was either playing dumb or provoking me; no other explanation.
“How do you want me?” I said with a sigh, cringing when I realized how it sounded. “I mean… Not want, want, obviously. I mean, do you want me on my back or—?”
Adam laughed, making me wonder if I’d ever heard him laugh before.
“Just come here, weir—” He stopped himself in time. “I mean, come here, princess.”
“Just remember you asked for this,” I grumbled, lying down next to him. I positioned myself as far away from him as possible when he grabbed me by the hips and yanked me towards him. When my ass hit his crotch, I smothered a gasp.
“This should do it,” he murmured. “Good night.”
Two seconds later, he was snoring, and I had a semi.
What ensued was easily the weirdest night of my life.
Adam slept like the dead from the moment he closed his eyes, while I remained awake for hours.
I couldn’t move because his arm around my waist held me imprisoned.
My dick got so hard I considered shooting myself in the foot, but I left my gun in the living room.
When I finally fell asleep, I was exhausted and frustrated, and my sleep was filled with weird dreams. In one of those dreams, I was back in prison, but this time there was a hamster wheel in my cell, and I was driving it.
In another dream, I was playing strip poker with Donald Duck and Moses.
In the third dream, I was somewhere dark and hot, and I couldn’t breathe.
It made me wake up in the middle of the night, sweaty and breathless, only to find Adam sprawled all over me.
No wonder oxygen was a problem because the man weighed a ton and his body was a furnace.
I tried to push him away, but he was too heavy.
“Adam,” I grumbled. “Move. I need to pee.”
I had to repeat it five times before he finally opened his eyes, looking groggy.
“Huh?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
He frowned, as if his nonsensical answer baffled him as much as it baffled me. Was he asleep, insane, or something else?
“Fine,” he said finally, straightening up. “But I’ll come with you.”
At first, I thought he had to pee too, which didn’t make it any less weird, but when I was done, he returned to the bedroom with me.
It seemed almost as if he was afraid to let me out of his sight because he feared I wouldn’t return, which was kind of sad.
After we got on the bed, he resumed the previous position, which meant him lying on top of me and me squashed beneath him.
He gave me enough space to breathe, but other than that, I was trapped.
It meant his arm over my chest, his leg over my thighs, and his face in my neck.
Is he drunk? I asked myself that for the umpteenth time.
I made a mental note to Google insomnia and check if this type of behavior was normal for his affliction.
Still, being squashed under Adam Markland was one of the best feelings ever, and it made me greedy.
Tentatively, I put my hands on his waist, and when he didn’t punch me, I left them there.
“Is this okay?” I said, giving him a small caress.
Fuck it, I deserved it!
“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “You smell nice.”
I shook my head in frustration, wondering why I was doing this to myself, but the only reply I got was a soft snore. The last thing that crossed my mind before I finally fell asleep was, Ten bucks? I should have asked for a thousand.