I stare at the sweet smile on his face for a moment before my gaze falls to the tattoo on his chest. Then I glance at the glass of ice water on the nightstand and back to his face. He followed the direction of his compass to the water and it brought him to me.
I don’t want to feel this way about Adam. I don’t want to move on from what happened so quickly. I’m supposed to wallow in self-pity or denial for a long time. That’s how these things work. This feels wrong and fast, like I’m barreling down a hill in a car with no brakes. I’m going to crash and body parts are going to fly—in particular, hearts. I can feel it.
But I don’t care.
I grab handfuls of his hair and pull his face toward me, mashing his lips against mine as I climb onto his lap. His tongue searches my mouth as his arms wrap around my waist pulling me against him. I reach down to pull my dress up and he grabs my hands.
“Wait,” he whispers as he rests his forehead against mine and pulls my hands together in front of his chest. “I don’t want you to do this if you’re not ready.”
“I’m ready,” I respond quickly, but he doesn’t let go of my hands.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Claire, I’m stoned and even I can see that you’re not ready.”
He lets go of my hands and my fists fall softly against his chest. He kisses the tip of my nose and I press my lips together to hide my smile.
“This is pretty,” I say as I bring my fingertip to the top of his tattoo and trace the circular compass.
He draws in a sharp breath as his skin prickles with goose bumps. “That’s what I was going for. I told the tattoo artist, ‘Give me your prettiest tattoo,’ and it was either this or a pink butterfly. The butterfly’s on my ass.”
“I want one.”
“You want a tattoo or a tattoo artist?”
I rake my fingers over his chest and up to his collarbone before I wrap my arms around neck. “Can you take me to get one?”
“I don’t know. I think I’ve already been a bad enough influence on you.”
“Please. You have this cool little mantra right over your heart. I have a mantra, too.”
He cocks an eyebrow as he leans in to kiss my jaw. “What’s your mantra?”
“You’re not going to like it. Nobody likes it. I got it from a book on Buddhism. Not that I’m Buddhist, I just read a couple of books and this one sentence sort of stuck with me.”
His lips trace a light trail down to my neck and I have to stop myself from grinding against him. “Just spit it out.”
I draw in a sharp breath as his tongue slides across my collarbone and he lays a soft kiss on my shoulder. “I am in training to be nobody special,” I whisper.
He freezes for a moment then looks up at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not fighting the tide trying to be something great or memorable. I am in training to be nobody special. I go with the flow or, as you might say, I’m riding it out.”
He chuckles as he shakes his head. “You’re right. I hate it.”
“Hey! I didn’t talk trash about your mantra.”
“That’s because mine’s awesome,” he says as his fingers roam over my back.
“Ride it out? Oh, how profound.”
“And aiming to be nobody special is profound? It’s not profound, it’s depressing. Besides, you could never be nobody special.”
Chapter Ten
Relentless Laughter
ADAM STOPS BY THE CAFÉ every single day this week on his way to work, as if to prove that ignoring me all last week was just a fluke and that he’s taking his stalker gig seriously. The best part of his visits is how much Linda and my coworkers like him. He actually convinced Linda to let him give her a lesson in how to dance Gangnam Style in front of six other customers. Watching Adam and my boss groovin’ out in the middle of the café caused major swoonage. Despite these picture perfect morning meetings, I have yet to see Adam after work.
“I’m telling you, he’s a male stripper and he doesn’t want you to see him come home covered in kiss marks and the stench of cheap perfume,” Senia says, twisting open a bottle of Coke for us to drink with the pizza we ordered.
“He’s not a stripper. He works for his dad’s construction company,” I say as I grab a slice of cheese pizza and the glass of soda Senia just poured for me. I lean back on the sofa and take a sip before I continue. “Then again, he does seem to be a good dancer.”
“You know what they say about good dancers.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I try not to blush.
“I may never know if that’s true.”
“You should ask him to go on a double date with us,” she says before taking a gigantic bite of her pizza. “We should go to that new hookah bar.”
“Hey, skank. No talking with your mouthful.” I take a few gulps of soda as I consider her offer.
The last time I went on a double date with Senia was when she and her freshman boyfriend, Tar Heel point guard Kevin Brown, took her, Chris, and me, to a frat party where she got so drunk she pissed in Kevin’s lap. They broke up five minutes later and I’m not allowed to speak of that night.
I would love to see Adam charm the pants off Senia and Eddie, but I’m also nervous about taking him out in public with that temper of his. Especially since something tells me he still hasn’t told me the whole story behind it. Somehow, I doubt that quitting surfing was the reason he developed anger issues. And if I don’t know what really triggered it, I don’t know if I’ll be leading him into a potentially volatile situation.
“Claaaaaaire!” Senia whines, and I set down my pizza and soda on the coffee table. “Please come with us. I promise I won’t make fun of his dance moves or how he hasn’t gone Gangnam Style on you yet.”
“I don’t know if a hookah bar is the best place for him,” I reply, thinking of how lame he’ll probably think it is to smoke flavored tobacco compared to his normal greenery.
“Why?”
I shrug and purse my lips and make a few more skeptical faces before I finally answer. “Adam’s a pothead.”
“Big fuckin’ deal, so is Eddie. At least now we know they’ll get along.”
“Eddie smokes pot?”
“Yeah, I just always tell him to do it before he comes over so you don’t get pissed.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten pissed.”
“Well, I was just trying to be sensitive to… you know.”
I shake my head then kiss her cheek. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”
“You’re damn right,” she says, pushing me away. “You deserve better.”
“You’re right, but I’ll settle for you any day.”
“God damn, you know just what to say to get my panties wet.”
The knock at the door startles both of us and Senia splashes Coke all over the sage-green sofa we went halves on last month.
“Shit!” she yelps as she slams her glass on the coffee table and races to the kitchen to grab some paper towels.
I haven’t checked on Cora yet today, but she rarely ever knocks on our door. She doesn’t like leaving Bigfoot unattended for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Maybe Adam is finally going to make an appearance. It is Thursday, after all. It’s almost the weekend.
I answer the door and stare at the guy standing in front of me for far too long. He finally clears his throat and I chuckle awkwardly.
“Sorry. Can I help you?”
He holds a simple bouquet of wildflowers tied with a lavender ribbon. “Are you Claire Nixon?”
“Yes.”
“Sign here.”
He hands me a clipboard and I sign next to the X. He hands me the flowers then mutters something about having a good night before he jogs away toward a white van.
I shut the front door and find Senia spraying Windex on the sofa and sopping up the Coke spill with gobs of wadded up paper towels.
“Are those from him?” she asks as she sprays more Windex on the expensive sofa.
I’m a bit dazed as I pull the card out of the bouquet and open it.
These flowers are nothing special, unlike you.
It’s like the guy has radar. He can sense when he’s moving up my shit list. And he knows just what to say to get back in my good graces.
“What if he has a double-life?” I say as I sit back on my side of the sofa and inhale a large whiff of the sweetly scented flowers. “Maybe he has a girlfriend back in Wilmington who he visits during the week.”
“Now you’re just being paranoid,” she says as she gathers the used up paper towels and heads back to the kitchen. “What does the card say?”
“These flowers are nothing special, unlike you.”
“Ugh!” she groans. “You told him your mantra!”
I’m not in the mood to have my mantra crapped on again so I ignore her while I continue sniffing my flowers. They’re wild and beautiful and so much classier than a dozen roses. He knows me better than I would expect.
“Maybe he is a stalker!” I shout back at her just as she comes out of the kitchen.
She plops down next to me and grabs the TV remote off the coffee table. “Maybe you should stop overanalyzing this.”
When I text Adam to thank him for the flowers and ask if he wants to go to a hookah bar with us Friday night, he responds with what could possibly be the hottest text message I’ve ever received.
Adam:
I wouldn’t miss the chance to see your sexy lips wrapped around my hookah.
After Senia introduces Adam to Eddie and they make a few dumb jokes about going to get some hookahs (pronouncing it like hook-uhs), the four of us walk to the hookah lounge from the apartment. The lounge is less than half a mile away, but Eddie cannot keep his hands off Senia the entire way there. Adam and I walk a few paces behind them, watching as Eddie’s hand slides underneath the back of her T-shirt and she pushes him away when she realizes he’s trying to undo her bra.
I glance sideways at Adam just as he glances at me and I smile. “You’ll get used to it. Senia and Eddie are PDA Central.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” he says as he laces his fingers through mine and brings my hand to his lips. “It’s nice to see two people who aren’t afraid to make their feelings known.”
I’m not sure if he’s implying that I’m afraid of sharing my feelings with him, but I try to follow Senia’s advice and not overanalyze his words or actions. I focus instead on the beautiful beach houses and quaint shops we pass as we walk down Lumina. He squeezes my hand and I look away from the scenery to find him pointing toward a small house with blue shutters and a Jeep parked in the driveway.
“I have a meeting with the guy who lives there tomorrow, Jason Wicker. He’s a surf instructor on Shell Island and he wants me to work with him on weekends. I told him my weekends belong to you, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Your weekends don’t belong to me,” I reply quickly, ignoring the pang of disappointment at the thought of spending even less time with him. “You should work with him. You need to get back out there.”
“It’s not like I don’t still surf. What do you think I’m doing every night when you don’t see me?”
My eyes widen as I realize I’ve been a complete dope, cooking up all these unsavory scenarios in my head for the ways he spends his free hours. When I don’t answer he shakes my hand to prompt a response.
“What did you think I was doing?”
I shrug as my ears burn with embarrassment. “Senia and I considered a few different scenarios.”
“Such as?”
“Such as… a stripper.”