10. Adam
ADAM
Istare at Sam as Chelsea walks away from him, just like she did when she escaped from the conference room.
She's running from something. Us.
Clearly, she didn’t plan on seeing us again.
I don’t know whether to be amused or offended. I mean, it happens, but it’s rare that a woman we’ve slept with has so many reservations toward seeing us again.
Reservations might even be too mild a word. It's more like she absolutely hates the sight of us.
I mean, yeah, I understand it can be awkward, and her brother's presence doesn’t make it easier, but her reaction feels deeper than that. It's almost like we did something to personally offend her.
I run the night through my mind, trying to think if there was any point she showed any discomfort or any point that she wasn’t into it. I comb through the details, trying to find one moment of dissociation or a single sign that she wasn't all the way there.
Not a single second comes to mind, and I would know. The night has tormented me for days since then, replaying in a loop, becoming sharper and clearer in my dreams. Teasing me with what I can’t have again. There was no point at which she showed any signs of resistance.
Maybe it’s a mental block now, as she can't accept the things she did under the cover of night. Or maybe it’s situational.
Maybe she has a fiancé somewhere, and she’s scared he’s going to find out what happened.
I mean, I was wrong about her being James’ girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean she’s single.
Because that kind of reaction, the combination of abject fear and guilt, the total avoidance, speaks to having something to hide.
Sam is staring after her with a forlorn look like a kicked puppy. As I approach him, it hardens into determination, and I nearly groan. I know what that look is.
That’s the look he gets when he meets a difficult hitch on a project, and he’s determined not to sleep until he works it through.
“Let it go,” I tell him, though I know it’s probably going to be useless. He doesn’t even take his eyes off the path she just walked when I’m talking to him. He’s staring after her, as though willing her to come back.
“Sam,” I say.
He finally takes his eyes off the path and rests them on me.
“You heard her,” I tell him. "I don’t think she wants anything to do with us.”
He frowns. “I didn’t say anything about us. I asked her to go out with me.”
I know,” I say, even though what he just said has a strange knot forming in my stomach. “I saw it happen. I also saw her run away from you.”
"She’s scared of something.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know. I want to find out.”
“Has it occurred to you that maybe she has a boyfriend?"
He gives me a sardonic look. “The last time you told me that you were wrong.”
“I was wrong about who her partner was, not necessarily that she didn’t have one."
He chews on that for a second, then shrugs. “I didn’t see a ring.”
“So?”
“She’s not married. So whoever he’s with must not be serious then.”
I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement, until I find that he’s dead serious. No trace of amusement lines his features.
“Wait, you’re serious?”
He turns back to regard me silently.
I shake my head. “Would her being married even dissuade you?”
He mulls over it. “Probably not.”
Of course. He’s a psycho after all. Completely gone over her.
"What is it about her?" I ask him. "You've never even had a conversation with her. You met her once and then fucked, and then she left. So what has you this sprung? I'm sure there are plenty of other women who would be open to your intense brand of obsession, so why her?"
He shakes his head without answering. "You wouldn't understand."
I raise an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He's saved from answering when Jake comes sauntering in from the other end of the hall, probably done with his private meeting with James.
“Where did she go?" he asks.
“Where did who go?”
“Oh come on,” he says. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Don’t pretend you weren’t staring at her, too. And the good news is, she’s not dating James.”
"The bad news is that she’s James’s sister,” I tell him. "Come on, you guys get how messy this could be, don’t you?”
They both summarily ignore me.
Of course, because as usual, I’m the only one with a working brain here.
I'm the only one who sees clearly how this could all blow up in our faces.
It’s not just about the fact that she’s James's sister. It’s also the fact that they like her too much.
Both of them.
It doesn’t escape me that Sam specified that he asked her out on a date for himself. And Jake…Jake has never had a woman he’s taken seriously before, but he has a possessive streak a mile wide, one that he likes to keep hidden.
It’s something he fights fervently and tries to overcome, but it’s in his nature to cling to things that are dear to him.
If they both end up falling in love with her, it’s going to be nothing short of a disaster.
What about you? Or are you going to pretend you don’t feel something for her, too?
I wash that thought away. It’s not about me. I can deal with my feelings much more maturely than they can, so I’m not worried about myself. It's them I'm concerned about. Luckily, she's not giving them the time of day, but if she ever does, I worry about the future of this friendship.
When I get up the day of our next meeting, Jake is cleaning.
Not just cleaning. Humming.
That’s a bad sign. It’s a sign that he’s done some plotting, and whatever he plotted is coming to fruition.
After I get out of bed and use the bathroom, I walk out and eye him suspiciously before asking him, “Why are you cleaning?”
“Because a clean home is the sign of a clean mind and a clean soul,” he parrots. “At least that’s what my grandmother used to tell me.”
"And you chose today to listen to her?" I run my hands on the waxed counters, scanning the spotless table tops, freshly washed rugs, and even the television that had been wiped down and was now devoid of any handprints.
"It's a weekday," I say. "You usually only do this type of cleaning on a rare Saturday."
"Maybe I just felt like it today."
“Is someone coming over?”
“Yup," he says cheerily, and the glitter in his eye tells me exactly who it is.
Except why would she be coming over when she spent our last meeting with her running from us?
I narrow my eyes. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. Just suggested that I wasn’t feeling too hot, so we should move the meeting to a new location."
"And that location is our home?"
"Yeah.
"And did you tell her she was coming to our house.
He grins wickedly. "I’m pretty sure she’s going to figure it out when she gets into the neighborhood."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Jake..."
The doorbell interrupts whatever I was going to say next.
"That must be Sam, early for the first time in his life," he says. "Can you get that? I'm kind of busy here."
He adjusts his apron and continues wiping the sink, without waiting for my answer. I sigh and head to the door, pulling it open to find Sam with freshly cut hair, wearing something that isn't a T-shirt and ratty jeans for a change.
As a matter of fact, he's wearing a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and loafers of all things. He no longer looks like some kind of shut-in hacker. He looks like a rich preppy kid, and he's holding a bouquet of flowers.
Great. Just great.
"Don't tell me you're in on this, too?" I tell him.
He smirks as he walks past me into the room. He puts down the flowers on the counter and pushes his hands in his pockets, standing there.
"You missed a spot," he tells Jake.
"No, I didn't." Jake spins around, peering at everything. "Where?"
He points at the ceiling where random dust had collected around the painting.
"Ah. Good call."
I stare at the ridiculousness for a few more minutes before I shake my head and head to the shower. The men are determined to crash and burn. They're determined to keep going until they ruin their friendship with James and maybe each other. And I feel so powerless to stop it.
After I get out of the shower and get dressed, we hear the sound of a car parking in our driveway.
“I'll get it," Jake says, but Sam is already on his feet, and I watch them reach the doorway at the same time, attempting to push and shove each other out of the way before pulling it open.
"Hi!" Jake says, waving. "Glad you made it."
"I didn't think the meeting would be at your house," she says, sounding like she’s stepping out of the car. "Otherwise, I might have selected somewhere different."
"Oh, did I forget to mention? Silly me."
"Yeah, you forgot to mention." And from the wryness of her tone, she knows that the forgetfulness was on purpose.
"Give her some space, guys," I say, because they're crowding around the doorway.
"Sure. Come in." Jake finally backs away, and I catch a glimpse of her, and suddenly butterflies flip-flop in my belly.
She's wearing pink today.
A pink suit that somehow brings out the warmth of her cheeks and the color of her eyes, and makes her hair even brighter.
She looks even more like a fairy than she did the day we met, and what I wouldn't give to go to her and kiss those blushed cheeks, those lips, and maybe down the line of her neck. Peeling that suit off her inch by inch.
"Adam."
I shake my head at the sound of my name. “Yeah"
"She just said hello to you," Jake says with a smug smirk that tells me I must have been looking at her like an idiot.
Jeez. “What is it about her that makes us make a fool of ourselves?” I ask Sam, partially because I don't know the answer myself.
I don't know why I'm so moved by her when I don't even know her.
I don't know if she cheated on her partner to sleep with us.
I don't know if she's rude to restaurant staff or kicks babies in her free time.
I don't know anything beyond her name and the fact that she looks like she should be some princess of the fae.
God, even that thought is so sickeningly sappy, I can't believe I had it.
"It's nice to see you again," I manage finally, and she shoots me a quick smile before she tears her gaze away, looking at everything but us.
"Your home is lovely," she says.
"Yeah, it is, especially at night," Jake responds, and his follow-up wink has her face heating up again.
"Yeah," she laughs nervously and clears her throat. "Anyway, we should get started. I have the presentation all here–"
"What's the hurry?" Jake interrupts. "We haven't even had breakfast yet, and I doubt you have either."
"Oh, I don't eat breakfast."
"Can't have that. It's the most important meal of the day. Or at least that's what my grandmother used to say. I'll make you some toast and eggs. How do you like it?"
"Um...actually I don't...I don't want any toast and eggs. I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I just want to get through the presentation if that's okay."
"Sure thing," I say. “How about some coffee though? Would you like some?”
“Sure,” she says.
“Black okay.”
“Yeah it’s fine. Now, the presentation…”
“Let's sit on the couch, that's more comfortable,” I say.
She shoots me a grateful look as we arrange ourselves on the sectional, with her between me and Jake and Sam on the other end, still giving her that 'stare'.
Tone it down, Sam.
She takes a sip of the coffee, and can’t hide her wince.
It’s clear that black coffee isn’t her thing, which makes me think she only said yes to it because she was nervous.
She put it down and clears her throat. "Okay, here's what I was thinking..."
“The coffee okay?” Jake asks, as Sam gets up and heads to the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes I’m sure.”
However, when Sam returns with bottle of water, she accepts it with thanks and basically gulps it down, so fast I’m scared she’s going to choke.
“Slowly,” I say and she obeys, slowing down the rate of the drinking.
When she’s done, she gives Sam a grateful smile and then continues, "Anyway, here's what I was thinking. A poster–”
“With your face on it,” Jake interrupts.
“No,” she says. “A poster that can get attention to you.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
She rolls her eyes and gives him a droll look and he snaps his finger. “That one. That’s the looks that should be on the poster.”
She shakes her head. “Following that, we should have an article about–”
“How beautiful you are? I agree.”
“Just let her talk man,” I say annoyed.
She snorts and shakes her head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Of course. I didn’t get this far in life by being corrigible.”
She shakes her head, but can’t hide her smile.
The meeting continues in that vein, with him throwing flirtatious words like that, some of which make her snort, others which make her roll her eyes.
Sam stares quietly while Jake gets bolder; his flirtation is far more obvious, and he asks questions like, "Are you married?" or "Do you have a boyfriend?" which obviously makes her uncomfortable.
Eventually, she escapes to the bathroom, giving me time to talk to the other two.
"Lay off her," I bite out between my teeth.
"We're not doing anything."
"Yes, you are. You're making her uncomfortable. Stop."
"He's the one asking her personal questions," Sam jabs his thumb toward Jake.
"You're the one who’s staring at her like a creep,” Jake shoots back. "I don't care. Both of you just–"
A little yelp interrupts, and as we bolt to our feet, we hear her call out weakly, "Help."