Chapter 20
“ T alk to me, Bubbles,” Adam said from where he’d followed me into the room I would be staying in for the next week, hours after we’d arrived at his parents’ house and long after his sisters and brother-in-law had arrived.
They hadn’t believed me either.
I dropped my bag on the floor and whirled on him. Flinging my hand in the direction of the door he was shutting behind us, a laugh of frustration, humiliation, and defeat punched from me. Well, more like rasped , considering my mouth was incredibly dry and my lungs seemed to only be working at half-capacity the past few hours. Not that I was panicking over that or anything.
I kind of regretted stealthily dumping that drink Adam made me earlier. But, you know...he’d done something sweet and made my heart trip all over itself. I’d had to shut that nonsense down.
“Why do they all think I’m being funny?” I demanded, my voice a harsh whisper. “Why do they think this is some joke I keep repeating as an icebreaker? I’ve never been funny, Adam, and this is the furthest thing from funny.”
His stare briefly fell to my shirt in a pointed look. “I’d say you have a sense of humor.”
Startled, I glanced down to see my Alien shirt of a facehugger holding a Free Hugs sign. “ I am not funny,” I told him. “That’s beside the point. Why would they think this is a joke?”
“I warned you,” he said in a tone that let me know it was my fault for not believing him.
But at his reminder, I was already past my initial demand and asking, “Why didn’t you warn me?” His head snapped back, a look crossing his face as if he was sure he’d heard me wrong. “I had no warning with your dad.”
“Wait, what?” he asked, surprised and a little angry at the change in conversation.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I begged.
“Tell you what ?” he demanded. “That my dad’s deaf?”
“Yes,” I nearly cried.
His shoulders bunched up like he wasn’t sure why this was even a discussion. “Did you want warning that I have one older brother and two younger sisters? Did you want their ages?” An irritated huff left me, but before I could respond, he asked, “Did you want warning that my mom’s from Spain and likes to feed people too much?”
“Adam,” I bit out, his name pure exasperation. “Come on, of course not.”
“Then why would I tell you my dad can’t hear?”
“Because I stood there rambling at him like an idiot,” I snapped. “I looked like an insensitive jerk.”
Understanding tore across Adam’s face as he drew in a deep breath and released it just as slowly. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn he was taunting me with his ability to breathe.
“You didn’t,” he finally said, then amended, “look like an insensitive jerk. You did ramble.”
My eyes rolled when the corner of his mouth quirked up.
Just as embarrassment began consuming me, he continued. “It would’ve been worse if you hadn’t spoken to him at all, Bubbles.” My gaze shifted to his at the gentle assurance in his tone. “For the most part, my dad can read lips, but we sign all the time just in case. I was signing for you; I had you covered. But it bothers my dad if he’s having a conversation with someone, and they’re looking at the person translating for them instead of at my dad. So, what you did was perfect.”
I watched as he slowly closed the distance between us, my heart kicking up the closer he came and my thoughts getting a little jumbled the way they often did around Adam Thatcher.
“As for not warning you ,” he continued, his head slanting, “I never would’ve thought to give anyone a heads up on my dad—that’s just my dad.”
“I understand,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. And I...I’m really sorry for what this trip’s gonna do to your family—your parents especially.”
“Me too,” he murmured as his eyes shifted, taking in my face in a way that had heat climbing into my cheeks. Just as I started wondering if there was a possibility Adam might feel a fraction of the things my ridiculous heart felt for him, his brow furrowed. “This the real you, Bubbles?”
A weakened huff fled from my lungs at the question I was already getting tired of, no matter how genuine it seemed, and I turned away from him, subtly rubbing at my too-tight chest as I did.
Grabbing my bag off the floor, I started walking toward the bed to set it there, but stopped mid-stride when Adam’s soft, “I like the real you,” reached me.
I stood there for so long, sure he’d slipped silently out of the room after his confession, that when he spoke next, I jolted slightly, my heart pounding out an unforgiving beat.
“How many people do you give this side to?”
I wanted to ignore him. To continue toward the bed and pointedly act like I was about to unpack my bag until he finally left so I’d have some privacy.
But then he was rounding me, making that unruly pounding turn outright lethal as I was met with vulnerable, pleading eyes.
Still, I asked, “Why are you so sure this is the real me? What if this is just an awful side that you happen to bring out of me?”
Some terribly handsome mixture of doubt and victory teased the corners of his mouth. “So, only me,” he assumed as he fought to keep his grin from widening.
“That isn’t—” I blinked quickly as I tried remembering exactly what we’d both said. “You can’t know this is the real me.”
“Told you, this is my job,” he said as he took a step closer to me. “Now that you’re seeing my life—my family—can you maybe see how I got into this?” When I just stared back at him, he tilted his head toward the closed bedroom door. “My dad can sign to us all day, and we can sign right back, but the gestures and facial expressions are what really drive home the meaning of the words or how someone feels. And it’s painfully obvious when they’re a lie.”
Another step closer until there was barely a foot of space between us, and my chest pitched with unfounded excitement and want as my bag slipped from my grasp, landing with a dull thud beside me.
As if I hadn’t already been struggling to breathe before, he had to go and stand so teasingly close. Making my heart race and stealing the little oxygen I did have until I was dizzy from all things Adam Thatcher.
“I’ve been inadvertently studying people since I was little, Bubbles. I know when expressions are a lie, which means I know this ...”—a gasp stole down my throat when he lifted a hand, his fingers trailing down my cheek and across my jaw before falling away—“this isn’t your lie.”
My skin tingled where he’d touched, and I had to clench my hands into fists to keep from touching my cheek to see if it felt as warm as I was imagining it. But just because I didn’t know how to control my heart around Adam didn’t mean I was going to let him win at this so easily.
“I told you to let it go,” I reminded him. “And if you’re trying a new tactic, you might as well stop. Making me fall for you to get all the information you want out of me isn’t going to work.”
No point in letting on that I’d started falling for him the first day I’d met him. That wouldn’t help me now.
As if my words snapped something inside him, his stare shuttered as he took a step back and glanced toward the door as if looking for an escape.
I at once wanted him to take it so I could breathe and clear my head, and for him to step back into my space and cradle my neck in his large, tattooed hand the way he’d done this morning.
It was ridiculous that I was disappointed when he took a step toward the door.
But just as quickly as he started away from me, he paused, his muscled body trembling with the same indecision I felt before he stepped close to me again, closer than before.
“You said you don’t lie because you enjoy it,” he began, his voice gruff and pleading. “You said you lie for people. And I swear I thought I saw why when we were walking through the shops because that mask you wear changed people just from passing by them. It made their entire day whenever you forced all that sunshine and joy into your conversation with them.”
This time, when my heart began racing, it was for an entirely different reason.
Once again, Adam was too close to the truth. My truth.
And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I’d never had anyone challenge me before, and it made me panicky that he continued to do so. It made me anxious that this man saw me too clearly and in a way no one had ever tried to.
Not that there was some sinister reason behind why I was the way I was. It was just that I was afraid if anyone found out, everything would come crumbling down around me, and I would lose my grasp on the outward appearance I’d struggled so hard to perfect and maintain.
Dipping his head closer, he said, “I could’ve also sworn you were this close to telling me everything this morning.” His eyes bounced between mine, which I was trying so hard to keep neutral, but something in them must’ve answered for me, because he subtly nodded. His voice lowered to an understanding whisper when he asked, “Now tell me, Chloe, how many people have you wanted to share your lie with?”
My breath came out on a shaky rush at the hushed, gentle way he said my name—as if I could handle this man saying my name at all.
“Think it says something that I keep being the only one,” he said as if he already knew the answer without me uttering a word.
My tongue darted out to wet my lips, my head moving in the smallest shakes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re awfully arrogant?”
“Am I wrong?”
As much as I wanted to, I refused to look away from where he was studying me. Instead of answering, I reverted to our earlier conversation. “I told you, this new tactic?—”
“This isn’t a tactic,” he ground out.
“Who’s lying now?” I demanded, then lifted my hand to gesture to where he was standing so close to me, but he was truly so close, that I ended up pressing my hand to his firm chest and pushing him back. “I know you don’t care about me, and I’m still positive you hate me, despite what you keep saying.”
“Chloe—”
“No, I know what this is,” I told him, my voice rising. “You’re doing what you can to get your answers. You’re trying to trick the nerdy loner into thinking someone could actually like her, when I’ve already fallen for that before. Which, you’re aware of, since y’all have been poring over the only relationship I’ve ever had, and that obviously ended up being painfully, humiliatingly fake.”
Just as Adam started responding, three quick knocks sounded on the door, pulling us out of the bubble we’d found ourselves in.
He stared at me for long seconds as if contemplating not answering it before a muttered curse left him. “It’s my dad,” he told me as he stalked across the room to open the door.
I waved back when his dad excitedly waved at me, then watched as Adam and his dad had a short, seemingly intense conversation before his dad left.
“How’d you know it was your dad?” I asked when Adam shut the door again, the movement as slow and measured as his breaths.
“The knock,” he answered. “Chloe?—”
“What’d he say?”
A heavy sigh left Adam when he finally turned to face me and leaned back against the door. Folding his arms across his chest, he hesitantly answered, “Dinner’s ready.”
“Great,” I began, grateful for any excuse to avoid the conversation he so clearly wanted to continue.
“Told him it wasn’t a good time.”
“Well, that’s rude.” I gave him a look to let him know he couldn’t just tell the people hosting us and cooking for us that it wasn’t a good time , then gestured for him to get his bags and leave. “If you’ll let me get settled in here and freshen up really quick, I’ll meet you out there.”
His eyebrows drew close as he glanced at the bags at his feet. When he looked away from them, I was sure his unease could be felt from across the room. “Uh...we, uh...we’re sharing this room.”
I wasn’t sure if my heart flatlined or if it was just going so fast I couldn’t register it anymore.
Either way, a dull sound of amusement tumbled from me as another wave of dizziness washed over me. “What?”
“You must’ve missed that between everyone talking out there,” he mumbled. “Couples share rooms.”
“We aren’t a couple,” I said weakly.
His eyes drifted up and locked onto me for long, heated moments before he said, “I’m aware. I’ll sleep on the floor. Doesn’t change that this is our room.” Clearing his throat, he pushed from the door and said, “I’ll, uh...I’ll take one of the other rooms once everyone leaves tomorrow night.”
Grabbing the handle, he opened the door, only to turn back to me. His lips parted and forehead pinched like he was struggling over what to say.
But with a guarded, conflicted look my way, he slipped from the room and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving me alone with my traitorous heart and my ridiculous wants and, Oh my gosh, why am I so dizzy ?
I sank to the bed and dropped my head into my hands, willing the sudden vertigo to dissipate, all while the cause of it plagued my thoughts with his unfairly distracting looks and unexpected words.
Like with Owen, I knew it would be so easy to believe Adam. It would be so easy...and it would end up being another mistake. Only this time, I wasn’t sure I would survive it.
By the time I left the room, my bags were still packed, my lungs still felt too tight, and everything spun if I turned my head too fast, so I made a mental note not to as I locked my smile in place. After all, my pain was meant for me, and me alone. And I knew with my current smile, no one in that house would ever suspect anything was wrong. I knew I would eventually come close to falling for my own pretense.
Nearly twenty years of pretending I was better than fine—that I was great , even—had taught me as much.
The only hiccup in my plan was Adam Thatcher.
I reminded myself as I walked that he wouldn’t get to me. He wouldn’t lie to me with pretty words, all for the sake of tricking me—of making me fall.
But when I stepped into the kitchen where he was having an animated conversation with his family, I found myself trapped in those captivating eyes that seemed to be trying to convince himself of the same thing.