21ADAM
21 ADAM
I tap the incline on the treadmill up one more level when I feel my phone buzz. I pull it out of the cupholder to check it.
Susan: I have to help set up tonight so you don’t need to pick me up. Just meet me at the banquet hall around 7.
Susan: And Merry Christmas! =)
My jaw clenches tight. Everything feels tight. All the time. It’s only gotten worse since Thanksgiving.
Each hug on campus, my chest burns.
Actually before that. The date party. Seeing her transformed into some kind of wet dream sex goddess all of a sudden, being able to squeeze her and touch her for a night…but then catching her across the room.
She watched that tall, nerdy guy walk away like he took her hopes and dreams along with him.
A sweet guy. An approachable guy. Not a grumpy ogre.
Then she looked at me and lied to herself that it was me she wanted.
Maybe for sex. I’ve seen how she sneaks looks at my arms and chest.
But it was when she looked at that Pearce son of a bitch that I saw all the…longing?
I don’t know.
But I’ve had a headache since that moment, I think.
She stood up to my dad, told off my brother at the thanksgiving table. Saying I was more of a leader than either of them will ever be. After that it’s like all of my clothes have shrunk, itchy and tight.
My football dinner, with her looking so pretty in her dress and all the guys talking to her and feeling like a million bucks because she knew every damn name and all their positions and stats. All of them, not just the starters. Then as soon as I put the truck in park to drop her off, she was out of the door like a bat out of hell.
Me. I’m her hell. I had to have three alka seltzers that night.
“Ugh!”
I push the incline up once more and increase my speed too. It doesn’t help.
Nothing helps.
Because I’m pissed and frustrated.
Not because I have to go to Jon Canton’s big Christmas party. Not because I have to get dressed up, be around her family, or worse be around my family. Not because I have to pretend to be social, to pretend to be with Susan.
None of that.
I’m pissed because despite everything, all my reasons, and plans and goals, despite the fact that my lawyers are making headway and my uncle might have some moves in place to save us, despite all that, I am looking at the clock, counting down to seven pm and hoping like hell that there is some mistletoe hung somewhere at this stupid party.
Because I’m not sure if she feels the same or not, not since the night she was drunk and rambling, but I’m sure. Since then she’s avoided me. Maybe she remembered her list of must-haves and realized I don’t measure up. I just don’t know anymore.
I do know that I desperately want to kiss my girlfriend.
And damn it, that pisses me off!