24
Well, that happened.
The sparkling, perfect 2-carat princess solitaire diamond on my finger confirms it.
It happened exactly like Adam said—no texted —that it would.
It was not a surprise and it wasn’t romantic.
The pictures are cute, the girls loved it. Even more so when I explained why he proposed in front of a huge, weird, metal fork on the side of the road. I suppose that part was personal. Thoughtful even.
And the box. Adam carved it himself, polished and beautiful with SC and AB etched into the top. It almost seemed like it meant something, like Adam was… trying more than he was performing.
Until he actually got down on one knee. He looked uncomfortable, like every cell in his body was shouting at him to get up and run away as quickly as possible.
There was no declaration of love. No cute anecdotes about our relationship. Adam’s voice got tight as he said it, probably from disgust.
“Susan Canton, will you marry me?”
Six words.
I said yes and faked a smile.
I closed my eyes and turned to mush when he stood and kissed me, but that’s involuntary. Every time his lips meet mine, every time his hands hold my head, or roam my body, I can’t think. All I can do is feel, physically, tasting him, feeling his tongue dominate mine, hearing his guttural moans. But emotionally too. I become one big, hope-filled, slowly-breaking heart, riddled with questions.
How can he kiss me like that? Why does he groan against my lips and grip my ass like a man possessed, only to pull away with a scowl and walk off across campus, or turn to pose for a photo, cold and distant as ever? Maybe his attraction is real, but only physical. Maybe he’s just a better actor than I am.
My tears at the fork were real.
They still are. I keep misting up every time I look at the ring. How is this my life? Fake proposals and planned kisses and secret lies and so much…loneliness?
Adam keeps eyeing me from his seat to my left in the fifteen passenger van we rented, but I am playing the part—calling family, taking photos, texting friends. I changed my official status on Facebook to Engaged.
I keep it up as long as I can stand and then I nap. I don’t have to fake sleep this time. I’m so emotionally exhausted, I pass out against the window almost instantly. Then we arrive and I gush through dinner. I field questions about the wedding and the honeymoon as if they’ll happen. As if any of the colors or themes I want matter, as if I have a dream venue picked out.
But the conversation, and the beer, helps pass the time and soon everyone is heading to bed. Some couples are bunking together but no one is surprised that Adam and I aren’t. A Canton could never. Even if they tease me about it, my friends understand my family and our values. No one actually thinks I’m still a virgin, even though I am, they just get that appearances have to be kept up.
As everyone disperses from the living room where we played cards and had a few more drinks after dinner, Adam stops me.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me back to him. He’s still sitting on the couch, studying me, maybe worried? Or more likely irritated about something? He tugs again so I’m standing in between his large, built thighs. The position is…intimate. His voice is gritty, “You okay?”
“Of course,” I say, sounding light and breathy. But my eyes begin to sting again.
“Susan. You’ve been weird since the fork,” he looks down at my ring finger then back at my face. “Just tell me.”
I swallow, then glance around, confirming that everyone else is out of earshot.
“W-what do you want me to say? Great fake proposal? Very convincing?”
“Crap,” He puts his hands on my waist and squeezes, “Did I screw it up? Did I forget something?”
I huff, annoyed. “No, how could you screw up something that doesn’t even matter? None of this matters and it’s just…I’m just…so tired of all of it. Thinking and worrying and acting and, I don’t know, everything.”
“I get it,” he says softly. Then his face changes, unreadable. “You want to forget everything for a minute?”
I sigh, “Yeah, that would be—” His hands slide slowly, purposefully…back. And down. He grabs and squeezes me with both hands. His eyes study me, tracking how my lips part and my breaths speed up. Without a word he shifts again, grabbing my thighs and then setting me onto this lap. He shifts forward so I’m able to straddle him on the couch. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. “There’s no one around,” I whisper, “What, what are we doing?”
“Forgetting.” He says, then he’s on me.
He kisses me without any restraint, one hand in my hair, another on my lower back. He pulls me into him. Onto him. Onto him. When I realize what I feel beneath me I whimper, making him curse under his breath, moving his mouth from my lips down my neck. He kisses and licks and sucks down the column then back up again.
“Damn, you drive me crazy.” He breathes into my ear.
“I do?”
He lifts off the couch just barely, up into me. I cry out in surprise, in shock, in just… want.
“Yeah.”
“Oh!” I say, and he rocks up into me a couple more times. Then his mouth goes back to owning mine, and his hands roam my back… and my front! He smooths, cups, squeezes…he does whatever he wants and I’m like putty in his long fingers.
I don’t know how long we kiss and grab and breathe each other in and out like oxygen. A long time. And it works. I forget everything. Until I finally get the nerve to reach down and touch him the way he’s been touching me.
“Suzie, baby, we have to stop.” He mutters, eyes closed. “Either stop or…go somewhere private.”
Baby
“I…uh, wait.”
“Hm?” He is still kissing my neck but as soon as I push away he reacts quickly. “Ok, yeah, of course. We should stop.” He pulls his mouth from my skin and lifts me off of his lap, placing me beside him on the couch.
As he composes himself I see it happen. All of his walls go back up, his face turns angry, like he withdraws miles away from where we just were. What we were just doing.
“I just…what does this mean? Is this real? This feels very real. I didn’t think you…I didn’t think we were…like this.”
He clears his throat. “We’re not.”
“We’re not?”
“No, but we are, right? I just…hell, I mean we’re all over each other all the time but don’t ever…c’mon, that’s going to frustrate any guy.”
“Oh.”
“Shit, I don’t…look I meant it, you do make me crazy. But I mean, you know.”
“What?” I get up, the hormone haze finally clearing so I can think. So I can get up and pace and get to the bottom of this. Because he is saying a bunch of nothing right now. “No, Adam, I don’t know. What does that mean? I make you crazy but…but what? It’s so freaking confusing, like you wanted me to fall for you. Wanted me to start caring for you. You text me and hold my hand and kiss my head and do some of that even when no one is around!” He opens his mouth, then shuts it. “You care about me too, Adam.”
“Well, yeah I care about you. You’re my friend, we’re in this mess together.”
“ And you want me.” I look at the evidence in his jeans and then back up at him.
He stands too. “Okay, yes, that too. I like you and I want you but…c’mon be serious, enough to get married? To blow up our whole lives for forever? Susan you’re a great girl and all, but freaking marriage? Months ago we didn’t even like each other, we didn’t even know each other!” I widen my eyes at him to lower his booming, disgusted voice, which is hitting at me like a hammer with every bitter syllable. He switches to whisper yelling. “A few months ago you wanted my brother!”
“No I did not!”
“Yeah, you did, all moon eyed at him. I overheard you gushing about him to Megan. And you never gush about me. Never look that way at me so what is it, what is this right now talking about bullshit feelings, just desperate to become a Bell some way, somehow?” I recoil but he goes on, throwing words at my heart like nails from one of his nail guns. “Maybe you’re the real actress here, doing whatever it takes to seal the deal for Daddy.”
I start to say that “forgetting” was his idea. That I didn’t ask for any of this. That I would never try to seduce him for the business. That I thought we were truly friends, truly becoming more than friends. That I know him, maybe better than he knows himself. That I know he doesn’t mean what he just said, and probably doesn’t know why he said it. I don’t know why either.
But I do know it’s not worth it.
I’m not going to cry in front of him anymore. Point made. Whatever he does feel, it’s not enough. Relationship, whatever kind this was, is over.
I back up and straighten.
“I want you to leave. Make up some emergency and go. And then I don’t want to see you again unless I absolutely have to. I’ll cancel our next two site visits.”
His nostrils flare. “Fine.”
“And later,” my voice shakes. “When you realize you don’t mean the disgusting things you just said to me, you’re going to want to say sorry and try to be my friend again. Don’t.”
With that, I storm out of the living room and up the stairs to my room. Tears start to fall but I remain silent and keep it together until I’m all the way in the far bathroom.
I don’t know what comes next for us, but I sure hope it’s a meeting with his uncle’s fancy lawyers.