17
“Adam Bell, you sexy son of a bitch!” A girl runs at Adam and smashes into him, grabs his face and kisses him. Right on the mouth.
This is not the kind of surprise I was hoping for.
We’re at a party for his dad at the country club back in Tulsa. And apparently so is…
“Regina.” Adam says as he pulls his mouth away from hers.
His mouth!
“Hi, I’m Susan,” I say to the brown haired, brown eyed bombshell, shoving my hand out to shake hers like I’m hoping to karate chop her with it. “Adam’s girlfriend.” I add, then feel my own eyes go wide at my blatant possessiveness. I try to quickly recover with a smile. But it’s a struggle because I’m suddenly furious. And a little nauseated. This girl is tall and curvy and…alluring. Hard to look away from.
“Ohhhh,” she rights herself, having gotten all disheveled when she attacked my boyfriend. Well, not really my boyfriend. But she doesn’t need to know that. “Girlfriend! Sorry. He doesn’t normally do those.” She takes my hand. “Regina Svanov.”
“Svanov.”
“Yes, like the liquor. Massively wealthy and cultured and forced to come to these boring-ass events that we hate at these clubs that we hate filled with people we hate, right?” She says looking at Adam and then me, like I am supposed to join in and wax poetic about hating my whole life. “Don’t worry, love, I’m just the fuckbuddy. No need to get feisty.” She laughs. At me.
“Were.” I say softly, gripping tighter around Adam’s arm next to me. When did I grab his arm?
Adam finally shifts into me and away from her, so she releases his other bicep out of her grip. She waves him off like this is all a big joke. “What’s that?”
“Were.” I say again, not so soft this time. “You were the f-fuckbuddy.”
“She’s wound tight isn’t she?” This girl (that I am growing to deeply dislike) says to Adam as if I’m not standing right here. She studies us for a beat and then I sense it. She knows. “Girlfriend. Riiiight.” She motions to the entryway we just came through. “Well, we’re just leaving, thank God. Adam, call me about,” she pauses, “whatever this is. Ciao!” Then she breezes out the door.
“I think your nails are embedded in my skin,” Adam says. I don’t know how long we’ve been standing with me staring in the direction of her amazing ample figure swaying away.
“What? Oh. Sorry.” I let go.
“Feisty spice, huh?” I look up to see him utterly pleased with himself and this entire ridiculous scene.
“You have to stop saying spice!” I snap at him in a whisper yell.
He chuckles. “Now you know how I felt.”
“Ugh!” I huff. Then a little old lady walks around us clutching her actual pearl necklace. Stop making a scene, Susan! You’re better than this. I straighten my spine. “Sorry. That was…”
“Unnecessary.” He says, still smirking.
“Uh, about as necessary as you going caveman on the firefighter. Or ripping your clothes off because I had another guy’s jersey on.” I snipe at him, not caring about the scene anymore.
He grimaces and shoves his hands in his dress pant pockets. “Sorry about that, I was a dick that day.” He takes a breath. “My dad had been riding me really hard about this deal, about us, about appearances, because my stupid brother keeps doing stupid things to piss him off.”
“Oh,” I soften.
“Yeah. So you in another number, that was not a good look for me. I didn’t want him to see you.”
“Right. Makes sense.”
“Anyway,” he changes the tone, “Ready to go fake it?” He extends his hand out for me to take. But I hesitate.
“Regina…”
“Look,” he makes eye contact with me. “I haven’t seen her in forever. I won’t…do anything with anyone else while we’re doing this.”
I nod, but it’s something else that is nagging at me.
“Do you really hate all this? Everyone here?”
“No,” he shakes his head, “we were just young and trying to be cool.”
“Okay,” I say, even though that wasn’t quite convincing enough. Still, I shouldn’t care if it’s true or not. Or if he hates this life or not. I definitely shouldn’t be sick to my stomach about his past…whatever kind of buddy she was to him. He’s not really mine to claim. Not if this is all going to end soon. “Have you talked to your uncle?”
He straightens slightly and looks away, like he’s remembering how serious his plan is. That we’ll need lawyers and publicity teams. That he might be disowning his own family in order to get out of marrying me.
“Yes. He’s looking into it. We’ll get out of this.”
“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say.
I don’t know if I want to get out of this. Why do you want out so badly? Can we just talk openly and honestly about it?
Yeah, I’m not saying any of that.
“Until then though,” he grits out, like he’s angry all over again at the state of our lives. He offers me his elbow and I take it.
I wish I’d taken his hand when I had the chance.
_____
I don’t want to agree with Regina, I really don’t, but this event has been painfully boring. There’s not even live music to stare at. We’ve already made the rounds with everyone once, saying hello and listening to men swap golf stories.
As the event starts to dwindle Leeland corners us.
“Don’t leave yet kids, we're going to start up some tennis. Do you play?” He asks me.
“I do.” I give him a fake, polite smile.
“Great. We’ve got all the courts for the afternoon. Adam, go grab some clothes for both of you from the pro shop and put it on my account. I’ll see you out there.”
“K.” he replies.
We leave the ballroom area and head to the shop. There we find tennis clothes and a racket for me and as instructed, he puts it on his dad’s club balance.
Adam looks amazing in his bright white head-to-toe everything, particularly his shorter tennis shorts. I chose a short white sport dress but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s even grumpier than usual. When we get to the edge of the court area I decide to risk poking the bear.
“I’m kind of surprised you agreed to play. Or that you agree to anything he says.”
“Just easier.” He huffs.
I put my new sunglasses on. “Gotcha.”
He puts a hand on my arm before we enter the first court. Goosebumps cover that arm now and spread to the rest of me. He hardly ever touches me. His scuffed up hands are as warm as I remember. He’s not looking at me though. I track his line of sight.
Josh.
And a girl.
“Listen.” Adam says quietly. “That’s Josh and my cousin Sienna. My dad is going to insist we play them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. He loves to pit us against each other. Josh thrives on it too. I gotta warn you now. I’m going to get competitive. I’m—” He shakes his head. “I mean, Sienna is not good but she tries. Wait, do you even really play?”
“Yes, I’ve had lessons, here at the club.”
“K. Well. Still. I’m sorry if I’m an asshole.”
I touch his elbow to reassure him. He looks down at the contact. Guess he’s not really used to me touching him, either.
“Adam. I am the most competitive person I know.”
“Really?” He eyes me.
“I once made my sister Sam cry over a Scrabble game. And that was after teasing her mercilessly because she couldn’t hold a handstand as long as I could.” His eyebrows lift a little. “I was fifteen. She was six.”
He smiles a small smile at that. “Well, then, this might actually be fun.”
We get out on the court and Josh wastes no time. “Don’t think just because I’ve been gone I’m not still smarter, stronger and faster than you.” Adam only scoffs. Then Josh seems to realize I am also here and goes on, “Susan, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Don’t talk to her.” Adam snaps. Josh smiles in triumph, showing a manipulative side to him I haven’t seen. Although, I guess I never really saw much of him at all. Not the real him. “Sienna, this is my, uh, girlfriend, Susan.”
“Hi,” She waves brightly. “Sorry you have to play with these two idiots today.”
“Same to you,” I reply. We both laugh but the guys just walk to the edges of the court to start warming up.
“I’m just sorry you had to settle for second best.” Josh says to me under his breath but loud enough for us to hear it. Sienna probably thinks he means for a tennis partner. But Adam knows exactly what he means. My stomach flips.
Adam doesn’t look at Josh but all the veins in his neck strain when he calls to me, “Hey.” I lock eyes with him. “Time to bust out sporty spice.”
“Oh my gosh, will you stop!”
He swings his racket to open up his swing, grinning. “That’s good, take that anger and use it to win.”
“Fine, I will.”
I throw the ball and practice a serve. It’s perfect. And I love that both Bells are shocked. Adam freezes for a second and then turns to me with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on his gorgeous face.
“Damn, this is going to be fun.”
And it is.
It starts off tense. We seem well matched and I grow concerned we might lose. Adam is silent and furious at first. But only one Bell brother trains for endurance every day of the week and it’s not the one who just went to rehab. Josh is not smarter or stronger or faster at all, and definitely not after the first twenty minutes.
We’re near the end, though, and when Josh realizes he’s about to lose, he rallies. But it’s not enough. After Adam’s final blow for match point, without thinking I run to him, screaming. He smiles and yells too as he stalks in my direction.
But when I get close to him I slow down a hair because what am I doing? What are we going to—
Adam closes the distance, smashes into me and lifts me, causing me to wrap my legs around him like a koala. We ditched the rackets on our dart to each other so I’m keenly aware that he has one rock-solid arm hoisting me up and one around my back. I start to close my arms around his neck and laugh, shocked yet again. But my laugh is cut off because he…
He’s kissing me.
His...
I…
By the time I close my eyes and surrender to what’s happening, his fingers cradling my head, his arm pulling me in closer, his warm, soft lips pressed firmly onto mine, it’s over. He pulls away and sets me down, but keeps his eyes on mine and his hands on my waist. He looks…happy.
“Sienna left, guys. You don’t have to keep up the act for me.” Josh calls out to us. Immediately Adam changes. He drops his hands and steps back with his scowl back in place.
I almost fall forward without the support of him. I also have to fight the urge to rub at the searing pain in my sternum. Or cover my burning face with my hands.
Of course Adam was just acting. We have an audience off to the side, including his father. This was the perfect opportunity to show his dad we’re committed to the partnership. To the ruse.
The surprise this time was how real it felt. And how much I wanted it to be real. The kiss…yes definitely…but, that moment right after. How genuinely happy he looked. How special it felt. How special I felt. And how terrible I feel now, cold everywhere without his arms around me.
How?
How are my nerves, my feelings, my heart…how am I going to make it through months and months of this back and forth? And if it’s this hard for me now, knowing our days are numbered, how will I bear it when the rejection is real and final? When we’re just…over?
When things with Josh ended it was frustrating and humiliating. But also…fine.
Strangely, after a few months with Adam I know when we end I will not be fine. I don’t…I don’t want this to end. Because sure he’s grumpy and curt but he’s also a force. A passionate, influential presence, leading whether he realizes it or not. Plus he’s so strong, steady. Present, whenever I need him. I…want him.
I guess I’m just going to have to muster up my courage and tell him so.
I follow Adam back to the main clubhouse where we go in our respective locker rooms and grab our things. When I meet him outside the women’s locker room, he seems as grouchy as ever. I had hoped maybe he’d focus on the win and the fun and yes, maybe the kiss, but it looks like all he’s thinking about is his brother, his messed up family.
So I’m shocked when, as he pulls his truck up to my parents house after a quick, tense, silent drive, he asks about my text.
“So, date party next weekend, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Yes.” I sit up a little straighter. “Like I said in the message, I know it’s not really your scene but Megan will be there and at this point I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m making the whole thing up. Sadie does too.”
It’s the truth. Football players are busy, sure, but not that busy. We haven’t gone on one date.
He does make a point to find me in the stands at home games. He gives me an almost-smile from the field, looking like a god in his red and white uniform. I even fooled myself into seeing something on his face when he confirms that I’m wearing his jersey.
But we never meet up after games.
We have met in between classes on campus twice, in a spot with high traffic. He gave me a huge, long, tight bear hug that was so comforting I was alarmed. I could’ve sworn I felt him melt around me, exhaling and then smelling my hair. But he quickly clamped down on any warmth and said, “See you later.” Then we walked our separate ways.
I can’t really imagine what he’ll be like at a date party. It’s not a very romantic setting, a big group party between one sorority and one fraternity where everyone brings a date, but still. He’ll be my date.
“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “So I meet you at the kappa house?”
“Yeah.”
“K. A suit?”
“Yes but you don’t have to wear a tie.”
“Is that all?” I frown, trying to wonder what he means. “C’mon, Checklist McGee. Do you want me in a certain color? Do I bring you flowers? What would your boyfriend do for a date party?”
“I don’t have a checklist for everything.” I huff.
He dips his chin and glares at me, one side of his mouth threatening to raise into a grin, just barely. I blush. I blush over a stupid almost-half-smile. It makes me stutter too.
“I, I, er, I mean my dress is red. So any black suit is fine.”
“K.” He nods once and looks away.
I open my mouth to somehow tell him the truth, that I want us to try to be real. That I think he’s an amazing person stuck in a crappy family. That he’s bigger, better, more than he thinks of himself. That he’s quickly checking all my boxes.
But the way he turns his head away, dismisses me…I just can’t.
Next weekend, then.
Next weekend on a date with my fake boyfriend, I’m going to confess I’m starting to have real feelings.