18
He’ll be here. Relax! Have another glass of wine.
I reach to nervously fidget with my dress but stop myself. A confident woman doesn’t fidget. I borrowed a short, tight, freaking amazing dress from Brenna, now I need to wear the crap out of it. I push my shoulders back and pick up my glass.
I know Adam is coming straight from post-practice physical therapy. He warned me he’d be a little late by the time he got home and showered.
Also, the flowers. He sent a huge arrangement of roses in varying colors of red. The card only said “From Adam.” But he had to call and order them. He thought of me and of our date.
Still, he’s almost out of time and Megan is here eyeing me. The SigEps arrived a good fifteen minutes ago and she’s here as a date for one of them. Giving her plenty of time to watch me wait for my “boyfriend.”
Do not fidget! He’ll be—
Holy Toledo, Batman and Robin and all their friends, he’s here.
And again, he’s so hot in a suit. Just like at the presser, he’s got the top button undone, looking totally relaxed under his tailored pants and jacket. He weaves through a group of frat boys and I don’t think I’m imagining it—they part to make a path for him.
Most of the guys here work out, sure, but they look like little kids next to Adam. It’s not just the Division One football training, either. I know this full well. Images of him hauling steel pipes and moving giant crates tend to flood my memory almost every night as I lay in bed.
When he locks eyes with me, he sends a message with the quirk of his brow. Here I am, your boyfriend, now what are you gonna do about it?
So, emboldened by the warmth of the wine and the tightness of the dress and the cut of his suit against his massive biceps, I jump.
“Hey babe!” I say as I collide into him. He huffs out a quick hum of surprise or maybe amusement. The noise is not about the actual collision, that’s for sure, because I’m like a gnat flitting full speed into a brick wall.
Grunt aside, he seems frozen.
I quickly whisper, “Megan is here, remember.”
I don’t even get the words out before he wraps his long limbs around me and squeezes. I pull away but he doesn’t let go, so I sneak a look up at his gorgeous face, freshly trimmed and smelling like aftershave.
But of course, he’s frowning.
“Nice of you to finally join us, Bell.” Megan says, still appraising us with a pinched expression. When he doesn’t let go, she smiles conspiratorially, “What do you think of our girl’s dress tonight?”
“I’m wondering where the rest of it is.” He mutters, his eyes boring into mine as one of his rough, warm hands moves from my lower back to what is definitely, absolutely,
Yes.
He is palming my butt!
And his pinky finger is grazing my exposed upper thigh, which, in this dress, is almost butt cheek.
Suddenly my mouth dries up as other parts of me seem to…flood.
“Don’t be a caveman, Captain, it’s not a good look.” Megan rolls her eyes.
His frown deepens in a way that makes me think the feel of his fingers on my skin is not affecting him like it’s affecting me. I push back from him and he lets me go this time. I feel my cheeks flush at yet another micro-rejection and I hate it. I hate that I’m embarrassed around him. Again.
I put my shoulders back and raise my chin but my nervous mouth betrays me.
“I don’t have many party dresses, only work dresses and longer gowns, so I borrowed this. I know I don’t look good in red but I think it—”
“Who said you don’t look good in red?” He grits out, somehow even scowlier than before.
I shrug, “My sisters, everyone, really. It washes me out but—”
“They’re wrong.”
I blink a couple times. “Th-thank you? I thought you didn’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that.” He mumbles but Megan talks over him, reminding me she’s still standing there watching us.
“What he didn’t say is that his big alpha dog ego doesn’t want his girlfriend strutting her sexy stuff for everyone to see but newsflash, she can wear as little as she wants wherever she wants. Keep dismantling the patriarchy, Suze, you look amazing.” She turns her pointing finger from me back to him, “This isn’t the 1900s, she’s not yours. ”
He clenches his jaw, as if holding back quite a few choice words he’d like to say back to my best friend.
“I am for tonight!” I clear the air between them. “C’mon, the buses are here!” I grab Adam’s forearm and start to pull him across the parking lot but I wobble a bit. Adam stops us and in one of his long, sure steps he’s next to me, linking our fingers.
He glares down at me with a severe expression, even more intense than usual. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Only a glass and a half, it’s the shoes.” I say but I can hear I’m over selling it, sounding tipsier than I feel. I feel tipsier still when I watch his eyes narrow in on the scrappy, sky-high, red stilettos I borrowed and then slowly make their way all the way up my legs.
He clears his throat and drags his gaze up from my thighs. “There food at this deal?”
“Appetizers I think. It’s a bar.” I nod. I tuck a stray hair behind my ear and feel the rose I tucked into my low ponytail. “Oh, thank you for the flowers. It helped to convince Sadie. Since she’s underage she’s not here tonight but she saw the giant arrangement in my room and she approved. Said it was romantic.”
I turn to show him the bud tucked in my hair and he nods. “I said red roses and the lady asked me what type of red. Started listing all these colors, I just said all of them, hoping one would match.”
“Good plan, this one matches perfectly.” I smirk at him. He looks at the rose again, then the dress, then away.
“Guess so.” He swallows, then starts walking behind the crowd lined up for the party buses, holding my hand and leading me slowly. Now that I’m not caught in the deep chocolate trap of his irises, I remember there’s a whole world that exists outside of us. One comprised of about a hundred sorority sisters all staring in our direction.
Not our.
His.
His direction.
He doesn’t seem to notice them, but I can’t help it. I preen a little bit behind him. Because he’s a tall, dark, built, serious, freaking catch and he’s mine. I mean, that’s what it looks like. It’s not real Susan!
He’s right. I need to eat something. Then I need to calmly and sincerely communicate to him that no, this isn’t real, but I want it to be. It’s a simple, adult conversation. I can do it.
_____
I can’t do it.
This night is going to kill me.
There weren’t enough seats on the bus and since we were one of the last couples on, I had to sit on his lap again. And he didn’t seem to mind. His arm locked around my waist like it did at Shep’s party, more secure than any seatbelt.
And the touching.
His hand on my knee, his fingers squeezing mine, his breath scolding the shell of my ear when I kept apologizing for the bumpy drive.
I don’t think I’ve ever in my life been this nervous or…worked up. Any more touches and I’m going to end up straddling him in the middle of this bar, minidress be damned, and grabbing his face so I can suck his gorgeous lips right off.
“I’ll take one!” I almost shout when one of the girls passes a tray with shots. Adam makes a noise behind me but doesn’t stop me from downing the tequila. Instead he pulls me closer into himself, plastering my back to his front, not realizing I’m about one more touch away from snapping like a sexually frustrated toothpick.
“So you guys both work for your family companies which are, like, partners now?” One of my younger sorority sisters asks. We’re in a small group near the bar, hoping to track down a waiter for some food. “That’s how you got together?” She adds.
“Yep!”
“El presidente and El Capitan. I love it.” Brenna gushes.
“It is pretty freaking perfect.” Megan adds, watching us like a hawk.
“So, mate, construction. My cousin worked construction jobs once, you, like, build a couple houses in a summer type deal?” Some frat guy says, I forget his name but he’s an Australian magnate who thinks very highly of himself, and has had too many beers to hide his condescending tone.
I snort, “Are you serious? Bell Construction built, like, half of Oklahoma’s retail, and now beyond Oklahoma too.”
“Like strip malls, then?” Douchey Aussie guy adds.
“Like billions of dollars in offices, shopping centers, and malls.” I say.
“And now you’re going to be the next CEO?” Megan asks, doubtful. Unlike everyone else, she knows what happened. She knows my date is only the heir to the empire because Josh fell from grace. She also knows enough of Adam’s growly personality to have trouble seeing him as a public figurehead.
“He is, and you should see him at the job sites. All the workers hang on his every word and run around doing whatever he says.” I move my glare from Megan to the Australian. “He actually knows the business and works alongside his employees. He doesn’t just go to meetings or look at spreadsheets filled with numbers he inherited for doing absolutely nothing.”
“Alright,” the rich boy laughs, “Claws away, Susan, no need to get bitchy.”
“What the hell did you just say?” I don’t even realize Adam has moved me behind him, it happens so fast.
The Aussie laughs again, “Your girl’s a bit cheeky, mate, that’s all I’m saying.” Adam moves toward the guy, a flinch in his direction, and the foreigner jumps up, terrified. “Damn! Sorry! Calm down!” But Adam doesn’t appear to be calming. And the frat boy now has a group of drunk brothers gathering around him.
“Adam,” I grab his arm and say in his ear. “Adam, listen to me, Captain. You can’t get in a public fight. You know you can’t.”
I feel him take a deep breath and then relax his posture. But he stares the guy down so hard that he raises both hands in surrender and then sulks away, taking his group of buddies with him. My pulse is racing, so I go ahead and accept the drink Megan hands me, her eyes as wide as mine. We both start chugging away the tension.
Adam turns back to me after he has decided the Aussie is far enough away. He eyes my drink, angry as ever.
“I’m going to find some food and some water.” He turns to Megan. “No more shots.”
“Aye aye, cap!” Megan yells.
“No more shots!” Brenna is also yelling.
Adam looks between the three of us like we’re hopeless, then storms away.
“Well that was pretty hot.” Megan says to me after he’s gone.
“Right!” I can’t help but gush a bit. It’s not the first time I’ve been called a bitch and won’t be the last. Women who take charge and get things done are often given that label, unfortunately. I’m used to it.
But it was the first time I’ve ever had anyone get mad on my behalf.
And I admit, I loved it.
With Adam gone a few more people swing by our group to say hello. Some of the younger girls in the house who want to run for office like to get face time with me. I also say hi to a guy from one of my classes and a guy who I went to highschool with, both here as dates.
Then sweet Pearce comes by to say hi, tall and gangly and blushing.
This.
This guy is the type that asks me out, not broody football players or hot older firemen.
Pearce is whip smart and a bit shy. Like Steven, my only semi-serious boyfriend, he’s handsome in a boyish way. Like he runs to clear his head and then gets home and dabbles in writing poetry. Definitely has a cat.
“H-hey Susan,” he stumbles. It’s adorable.
“Shouldn’t have waited so long, Pearce, I tried to tell you!” Brenna slurs. “She’s here with a date. Adam Bell. The football player!”
Pearce’s face pales. “Right, I know.” He lies. “Just saying hi. You, y-you look great.” He says, his speech a little loose too. Geez, what time is it? Is everyone wasted?
I see the second Adam approaches because actual fear crosses over sweet Pearce’s blotchy face. The latter waves at me and then makes good time in walking away. I can’t help but smile as he goes, what a sweetheart. He’s not wrong to run, one glare from Adam and Pearce would probably pee his pants. Or faint.
My cheek burns a bit and I realize Adam is staring at me. I turn to him, not surprised that he looks irritated. How else would he look? This is not his idea of a fun night out.
I smile at him.
He does not smile back.
“Here,” he shoves a large paper cup of French fries into my hand. He also takes my drink and sets it beside us on a pub table and puts a glass with a straw up to my mouth. I drink. It’s water.
Wow, water is good.
“Awwwww,” says Brenna, apparently only interested in my date this evening. “Who knew The Ringer would be such a sweet boyfriend!”
I smile up at Adam but he just sets his jaw and gives the kind of slow blink that says he’d rather be rolling his eyes, but doesn’t want to be obvious.
“Sweet boyfriend!” I whisper-yell and point at him, giggling.
“Eat some fries, woman.” Adam puts his hands on my biceps because oh look at that, I’m swaying. He shifts me to a stool and I plop down.
I eat the fries—possibly the most glorious fries ever fried—and chug water and basically stare at Adam while he stares at me. After most of the fries are gone, he seems satisfied.
“Are you going to dance with me now, boyfriend? ” I bat my lashes at him, still sounding pretty far gone. Whoopsie.
He raises a brow, “You think you can stay upright?”
I get up from my stool but pitch forward, grabbing his biceps for support. He puts his hands on my waist and pushes me back onto the stool, then puts a hand on the pub table on either side of me, caging me in.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you don’t normally drink this much.”
“I’m nervous,” I blurt, before realizing I probably shouldn’t just admit that fact. He tilts his head, waiting. “I don’t know, everyone staring, asking about us, asking about you, this was a stupid first date and my feet are killing me in these stupid shoes and this stupid dress you clearly hate—”
“I don’t hate it.” I shoot his signature doubtful glare right back at him. “It’s not for me.”
My head rears back and all my thoughts and brain matter slosh around, “What?”
“You didn’t wear this for me, Susan.”
“Yes I did, I wanted you to see me in it. I wanted—”
“Will you stop?” He inches in closer, “Quit that. Quit talking me up and trying to make me sound like something I’m not. Quit trying to make this something it’s not.” He gestures between us.
“So what exactly are we?” I ask, bracing myself.
“Temporary.”
This is it. C’mon Susan, say it.
“W-what if I don’t want us to be temporary?”
He backs away, removing the muscular cage around me, straightening his spine, and his resolve, it looks like.
“You do. You’re just drunk, Susan.”
“I’m not,” I start, “I mean, yes, I am a little tipsy but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, I want—"
“I want to go,” he cuts me off. “Before you say more stuff you don’t mean and probably upchuck all over me on the bus ride back. C’mon.” He grabs my arm and pulls me up, then leads me out of the bar to one of the waiting buses.
In the cold quiet of the bus, Adam is next to me but worlds away. It’s dark and mostly empty, so there’s no lap sitting or hand holding necessary. I put my head on the glass of the window and close my eyes.
And realize I did it. I told him I wanted us to be real.
And he said no.
So, that’s it.
I just have to get through this. Make sure the company is covered, all our employees are secure and beyond the reach of Leeland’s schemes. Put on a smile and keep my heart firmly locked away. Wait patiently for Adam’s uncle to figure out our exit strategy.
By the time we reach the Kappa house I am almost sober. I think. I know I’m sad and embarrassed and angry. We get off the bus and I start walking toward the back door of the house.
“Susan,” Adam says. I pause and turn back to him, with a small smile. I can’t muster up more than that. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to sleep it off. Don’t worry about it.” I sound too bitter. Too hurt. Dang it.
“Susan, wait,” he tries again, grabbing my arm.
I pull away, “It was a good date. Public. You were mean to that guy and fed me fries. Good job. I’m going to bed now.” I hear him curse under his breath as I turn away so I add, “We’re good, okay? We’re fine. We should probably meet up in between classes again. Also my dad got us access to the sidelines for Homecoming, so you’ll have to give me a hug or something. Then we’ll just have to get through Thanksgiving.”
“Don’t we have a couple site visits before then?”
I shrug, “Yeah, but I can do them alone.”
“No, you can’t.” He sighs.
I sigh too. “I guess you’re right. I’ll see you in a couple weeks, then.”
“K.”
“K.” I parrot back to him and turn quickly to make a mad dash for the door before I either cry or throw up. But I don’t make it. At the bushes outside the door, I lose it, and I have to bend over so fast I start to fall face forward into the dirt.
But I don’t.
Adam catches me.
Great.
I am hurling my guts out and crying and only staying upright because he’s got me around the waist. An eternity later, when it’s over, I realize what’s happening.
“Crap,” I cry, tears streaming down my ashamed face, as I turn around, into his chest, frantic. “Did anyone see? I’m the president, I can't be doing this! I’m supposed to be the example! Did anyone—”
“Shhhh, baby, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Adam smooths the hair back from my face and tightens his hold on me. “I’ve got you. Nobody’s out here but me.”
“Ugh! I messed up. I messed up!”
“Hey, hey, hey,” He tilts my chin up. “Nobody saw, Suzie. And even if they did it’s okay to mess up. No one can be perfect all the time.”
“Yes, they can. That’s just an excuse people say. I know better than this! I need to be better.” I start to sob.
“Shhh, you’re being too hard on yourself.” He says into my hair.
I shake my head. “No. I expect better, even if I’m nervous or embarrassed or sad I can’t let go like that. I am better than that. Ugh, sorry,” I pull myself out of his hold. “This is gross.”
He huffs, “I’ve held up Shep and Tug and more than one lineman before. That is gross.”
“Is this one of those things you’ll tease me about forever, like the arm punching?” I sniff.
“No.” He gently places his hands onto my shoulders, almost holding my neck. “You sure you can make it upstairs okay?”
I nod and he lets go.
“Sorry. And thanks.” I sway a little more, deciding to turn at the door and become an overly animated Truman from The Truman Show to recover. “And in case I don’t see ya, Good afternoon, good evening and goodnight.”
Adam fights a smile.
“Goodnight,” he says, and I realize quoting The Truman Show was not really a recovery at all.
I punch in my door code, go through the entrance and make my way up the stairs.
I strip off my clothes and throw on my robe and tab slowly down the hall to the communal bathroom. It’s only after at least ten minutes under the hot spray that it comes to me. I didn’t make it up. I’m positive. It happened.
Adam called me baby.