7. Adrian #2
I looked ahead and saw a large brick building surrounded by trees and a small playground.
A sign near the entrance read: Ashford Children's Home.
I turned toward him. "You brought me to an orphanage?"
"My family has been looking after this place for years," Adrian explained. "It's funded through the Ashford Foundation."
There was no pride in his voice. If anything, he sounded almost matter-of-fact.
Inside, the atmosphere was completely different from the world I usually associated with him. The halls were bright, the walls covered with children's drawings, and the moment Adrian walked through the entrance, several children called his name.
"Mr. Adrian!"
A little girl came running toward him. His entire expression changed. He crouched down to her level and opened his arms. "Hey, Lily. How are you?"
"You didn't come last week."
"I know. I was busy."
"Too busy for me?"
He put a hand over his heart. "That sounds like a serious accusation."
She giggled and hugged him. I stood there watching, strangely touched by how naturally he fit into the place.
There were no cameras. No reporters. No business associates waiting to impress him.
Just Adrian.
He spent the next few hours talking to the children, helping them with drawings, listening to their stories, and remembering little details about them that I wouldn't have expected him to know.
Then a little boy approached him with a dinosaur book clutched against his chest.
"Do you know about velociraptors?"
Adrian glanced at me with a resigned expression.
"I'm about to."
The boy frowned. "They're important."
"Then I should probably pay attention."
The boy sat beside him and immediately opened the book.
"Velociraptors were actually smaller than they showed in the movies."
Adrian nodded seriously. "Interesting."
"They also had feathers."
His eyebrows lifted. "Feathers?"
"Yes."
Adrian looked at me. "Everything I learned about dinosaurs as a child was apparently a lie."
I laughed.
The boy continued explaining with complete seriousness, turning page after page while Adrian listened as though he were attending the most important meeting of his life.
When the boy finally finished, Adrian nodded.
"That was impressive."
"You remembered everything?"
"Most of it."
The boy narrowed his eyes. "You have to remember all of it."
Adrian smiled. "Then you'll have to teach me again next time."
The boy grinned. I watched Adrian for a long moment.
I'd seen him at galas, behind cameras, inside expensive cars, surrounded by people who wanted something from him. I'd seen the charming smile, the effortless confidence, the teasing eyes.
But this was different. Here, he wasn't trying to impress anyone. He didn't need to.
There was something quietly beautiful about watching him kneel on a worn carpet and listen to a child explain dinosaurs as if the fate of the world depended on it. And, somehow, I found myself watching him more than I watched the children.
That realization made me look away. On the drive back to Richmond, the evening light stretched across the road.
"What do you want for dinner?" Adrian asked.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
I spotted a small roadside noodle stall and pointed toward it.
"That."
He looked at the tiny food cart, then at me. "Seriously?"
"Very seriously."
He didn't argue. He simply pulled over. I smiled to myself. For a man who could probably have any restaurant in the city closed exclusively for him, Adrian seemed surprisingly uncomplicated when nobody was watching.
We sat beneath a faded umbrella while the cook prepared our noodles. When our bowls arrived, I immediately reached toward the container of chili flakes.
Before I could touch it, Adrian slid it toward me.
"I knew you'd want those," he said with a quiet laugh. "You always over-spice your food."
I paused.
"How did you know?"
He looked at me.
"I've literally never eaten ramen with you before."
For a fraction of a second, something changed in his expression.
Then he laughed. "I guessed."
"Based on what?"
"Your words are usually quite sharp and spicy."
I stared at him. "That makes absolutely no sense."
"It made sense to me."
I narrowed my eyes, but he was already smiling as he picked up his chopsticks.
"Eat your noodles, Miss Author."
I let it go. But the question stayed somewhere in the back of my mind.
How did Adrian keep knowing these little things about me?
After dinner, he excused himself and walked toward a nearby ice cream cart.
When he returned, he handed me my cone. Then I noticed his.
Matcha.
I stared at it.
He caught me looking. "What?"
"Is that matcha?"
"Yes."
I laughed. "You?"
He looked down at the green ice cream. "Me."
"You spent an entire evening insulting my favorite flavor."
"I never insulted it."
"You called it grass."
"That's an observation."
"And now you're eating it?"
He took a thoughtful bite, pretending to consider his answer. "I wanted to know what the grass flavor actually tasted like."
I laughed. "And?"
His eyes met mine. "It's not terrible."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said about matcha."
He smiled. "There's a first time for everything."
I shook my head, still laughing.
"You really are impossible."
"That's what I've been told."
He said it lightly, but something in his eyes lingered on me a second longer than it should have.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked away first.
And I wondered, once again, what exactly was hiding behind that smile of his.
* * *
On the way home, I must have fallen asleep.
I didn't remember closing my eyes, but sometime during the drive, the steady hum of the engine had pulled me under. The next thing I felt was something light against my cheek, almost like the brush of a feather.
The car smelled faintly of fresh flowers.
I stayed still.
I didn't know why, but something told me not to move.
Then I heard Adrian's voice, barely above a whisper.
"Eliana."
His fingers gently moved a strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
I kept my eyes closed.
"You're really in deep sleep, aren't you?" he murmured.
There was a quiet pause.
Then I heard the smallest laugh.
"I missed you."
My heart skipped.
"Deeply. Terribly. Senselessly..." His voice softened. "I wish you knew. Eliana, I wish I could express..."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
My heart began pounding so hard I was certain he could hear it.
His fingers brushed my cheek again.
I flinched.
My eyes flew open.
Adrian immediately pulled his hand away. For the first time, genuine surprise crossed his face, as though he hadn't expected me to wake so suddenly.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice returning to its usual calmness.
"Yeah. I—" I gave a nervous laugh and sat up straighter. "I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep."
I silently begged myself to calm down.
Don't be nervous.
He'll know you've been awake.
Adrian studied me for a second before reaching toward the back seat.
"I bought you something while you were asleep."
He pulled out a bouquet of white lilies and held them toward me.
"For you."
I stared at the flowers.
That explained the sweet scent filling the car.
I smiled as I accepted them, then my smile slowly faded.
"These are my favorite flowers."
Adrian's expression didn't change.
"I never told you that."
For the briefest moment, his eyes seemed to lose their usual brightness.
Then that familiar, effortless smile returned.
"The florist made a mistake," he said. "I asked for roses, but they were out of those."
I looked down at the lilies.
That sounded more like an excuse than an explanation.
But I didn't push him.
"Thank you," I said softly.
He nodded.
When we reached my house, I gathered my things and opened the door.
"Goodnight, Adrian."
"Goodnight."
I stepped out, but before I could close the door, he called my name.
"Eliana."
I turned back.
For a second, he simply looked at me.
His lips parted as though he was about to say something.
Then he smiled. "Nothing."
I waited. He glanced toward the lilies in my arms. "Thank you for coming with me today. I had a nice time."
I smiled. "So did I."
He nodded, and I finally closed the door. I stood on the sidewalk and watched his car disappear down the street.
A sharp pain suddenly tore through my head. I gasped and stumbled backward, pressing my shoulder against the wall of my building.
The world blurred.
For one impossible second, I wasn't standing beneath the Richmond night sky anymore.
I heard laughter.
My own laughter. Bright. Happy.
And then a familiar voice came from somewhere inside the memory.
"White lilies again? People will think you're obsessed."
The image vanished. My breathing had become uneven.
And then darkness consumed my world before I lost my balance.