Chapter 11 #2
I falter, not realizing those are the words I said, before I shake my head.
“No, I mean, I like to help. I’m helpful.
” He stares at me like he’s waiting for me to finish, so I do in one long breath that takes a weight off my chest. “I have to hang up the lights for Mr. Campbell, and then I have to get to work where I have to be cheery and also firm for two dozen second graders and also fit in doing their trimester reports, and I have to do this this morning because tonight I have parent-teacher conferences and I might make questionable choices, but I’m not hanging lights in the dark. ”
I take a breath, and the strangest mix of clawing anxiety settling in and a weight being removed from my shoulders fills me as I get all of this off my chest.
“I can’t do it tomorrow after school because I have to go to the fundraiser at the bar, and now that I’m thinking about it, I promised Nat I’d assemble the raffle baskets and make them look all pretty, but I have to get these stupid lights up because it’s tradition for the entire town to be lit up, and this is my year and the entire town is relying on me to make everything festive and perfect just like my grandmother would do and—”
I have about a million more things to add to that list, but I’ve stopped.
I’m stopped because Adam is in my space, chest against mine once more in a way that is so reminiscent of what happened in his house the other day.
His fingers tighten on my waist a bit more, his other hand resting on the door behind me beside my head and effectively caging me in place in an all-too familiar position.
“What do you need, Wren?” he asks, so low and sweet.
“I need to get you out of my way so I can go finish hanging those lights.”
He shakes his head. “No, no. That’s not what you need.”
The hand on the door shifts, pushing a piece of hair back gently, almost reverently, before moving back to the door.
My chin tips up without my mind even directing the action, and my eyes go wide as I take him in, all dark eyebrows and long lashes and high cheekbones.
His constant brooding has left a permanent crease between his eyebrows, which some people might see as a flaw, but on him, it just adds to the overall package.
And just like in his house the other day, I want Adam to kiss me.
In fact, it’s beginning to feel like a need. For some strange reason, I think if he kissed me, everything in the world would be right, if only for a moment.
“Tell me what you want right now, Wren,” he whispers, breath coasting along my lips. “For once in your life, ask for what you want.”
“Adam,” I whisper, unsure of what to say, but the word parts my lips, and my body shifts closer to his, pressing my chest further into his. He lets out the smallest groan, one I feel more than hear, and liquid heat moves through me.
“Ask me to kiss you,” he says.
My eyes go wide as I feel everything right now.
The warmth of his body before mine, the cold wood of my front door on my back.
My pulse pounding against my neck, the excitement coursing through my veins as I have him so close, my breath leaving my lips, and his coasting along my skin.
It’s as if my mind is trying to capture everything, every moment and feeling, for later.
“What?”
“Tell me to kiss you. Ask for what you need, baby.”
I stare up at him, a mix of awe and confusion and, shockingly enough, arousal clouding my mind.
But mostly, confusion.
I’ve never had to ask for a kiss.
“You want me to ask for a kiss?”
“Hell, yeah, I do. You don’t ask for anything from anyone, but you’re going to ask for this. When I finally kiss you, it will be because you wanted it. Because you initiated it. My sweet little people pleaser is going to demand what she needs.”
My jaw is slack with his words, and even though frustration courses through me, heat moves through me as well, settling between my legs.
My sweet little people pleaser is going to demand what she needs. That should not be hot, right?
A million responses go through my mind, but only one leaves my lips. “When you kiss me?”
His smile goes lazy in a sexy way I’ve never seen before, and suddenly, I understand what they mean in books when they say a panty-dropping smile.
“Oh, you and me kissing is a foregone conclusion, sweetness. Just say the word.”
My breath hitches, and I open my mouth to respond, though I don’t know what I’m going to say. Turns out, I don’t have to think of an answer because my phone alarm goes off.
“That’s my alarm. I have to go.”
Disappointment flashes over his face, and I wonder if he can see the same reflected on mine. In a heartbeat, his is chased away by determination and a confident smirk, and he steps away.
Without even looking back at him, I stomp toward my car, grateful I threw everything in there already before heading to hang the lights, and I drive off.
I definitely don’t think about what would have happened if I had told him to kiss me.
When I finally pull onto Bluebird Lane long after nine p.m., I’m stunned to see the lights on the Campbells’ house are already shining bright.
I park my car and stand in my driveway, taking it in.
Not only is the side I started done, but the entire house has strands of cheery lights.
It’s done well, too, perfectly straight with the lights hooked into the gutters every three bulbs, exactly the way I would have done it.
It even goes up onto the roof, following the lines perfectly.
Jed Campbell definitely did not do that.
I’m still staring, admiring someone’s work, when a familiar voice calls out.
“No more ladders, Wren.”
I snap my head toward the source of the voice and see Adam standing on his front porch, arms crossed over his chest, jaw firm, staring at me intensely. My mind races, trying to put the pieces together before I respond.
“Did you…” My words trail off because they make no sense. Adam couldn’t have hung them because he hates everything Christmas. He hates decorations, and he hates lights, and he hates… well, I thought he might hate me, just a little, until recently.
“I hung them up,” he answers for me.
“Why?” I ask, taking a few steps toward him.
“It was purely selfish.” It seems to be a familiar refrain from him, but I’m distracted from that when he continues. “I don’t need the sight of your broken body burned in my mind for the rest of my life if and when you inevitably fall off that thing.”
I stare at him, trying to read past the thick wall he has up all the time, but it’s like a fortress, unscalable. Still, his actions speak for themselves.
“You’re such a liar,” I say with a small smile. “I think you did it because you care about me.”
“Well, someone has to. You sure aren’t going to,” he says. The words stick around me, swirling around me like happy, floating snowflakes.
“I’ve been going to bed by midnight, you know,” I say. I don’t know why I say it, but I do anyway.
He looks over my shoulder. “I’ve noticed. Far stretch from reasonable, but it’s an improvement.”
We both stand there, staring at each other, neither of us speaking out loud about what that really means.
“Good night, Wren.” And then he turns and walks back into his house, leaving me baffled.
I almost went to bed early that night, climbing into bed by ten thirty despite having a pile of other things to do. Adam’s words of someone has to are still swirling around me, and when I wake to see the nutcracker on my front step, I can’t seem to decide if it makes me happy or not.