No one says anything for a long moment, and in spite of the awkwardness, the bit that I’m still hung up on is the fact that they’ve been togethertwo decades. I begin to cast my gaze around for Mae, or the Ryan Seacrest guy. This is going to be excruciating, and likely humiliating, and I want it over with.
When Adam speaks behind me, the soft rumble of his voice against my back reminds me that he is still, for some reason, holding me close to his body.
“We’re planning our honeymoon,” he says.
I turn my head to look at him, baffled. He shoots me a wink. I whip my head to face forward again and his hands tighten around my waist. My breath hitches. His pinkie slides down and catches on the waistband of my shorts. I cross my legs and refuse to be turned on right now, even if Mae did ask us to sell it.
“I want to travel through Asia.” He gives me a little squeeze and adds, “But this one isn’t a huge fan of flying, so maybe we’ll go somewhere a bit closer, like Hawaii.”
How does Adam know I don’t like to fly? I can’t remember if this is something I mentioned at some point, or if he’s just making shit up and happened to stumble upon something true.
I clear my throat. All I can think to say is: “Hawaii?”
“You know I’d go anywhere with you, baby.”
My nails dig into Adam’s forearm, hard enough to leave little half-moons behind. It’s not that I have strong feelings one way or the other about that particular pet name. But the husky quality of Adam’s voice has my gut turning molten. Iblame Tyler for how easy it is to imagine Adam using that voice in bed, lips against my neck as he talks me through an orgasm. My skin flares hot enough to broadcast how much he’s affecting me, and I risk a glance over my shoulder. I can only watch helplessly as Adam’s brows pucker, and then slowly—so slowly—understanding dawns and his lips curve into a smug smile.
We’re already playing a game, Adam and I. It’s my turn to make a move, to say something flirty and push the boundary a bit more, but my brain is having trouble keeping up. The heat of his gaze feels too real.
I have not gotten this far in life without learning how to tell if someone wants to kiss me. Adam thought about it, back at the bar. Call it a moment of weakness, but I would’ve let him.
I’m abruptly aware of the fact that I didn’t have time to shower this morning, and that the powdery scent of my deodorant is nowhere near as nice-smelling as Adam’s cologne. I’m also very aware of the fact that if I turned my head another couple of inches, the stubble along his jaw would scrape against my lips.
Which makes me think about how his stubble would feel in other, more sensitive places.
“Have you been together a long time?” Tess asks.
“No, we actually got together pretty recently,” Adam answers. “We’ve known each other for years, though.”
“Oh, really? How’d you start dating?”
“Do you want to tell the story, babe, or should I?”
The spark in Adam’s eye does not help my nervous system settle down.
“Actually, can you excuse us?” I blurt out, grabbing Adam’shand. I drag him away without waiting for a response. Once we’re on the other side of the stage and out of earshot, I release his hand and cross my arms.
“So, I think we have a problem,” I tell him.
Adam’s lingering smile slips. “What do you mean?”
“These people are real couples,” I say, gesturing vaguely behind me to where Tess and the others are standing. “They have histories and inside jokes. And as good as you are at spinning bullshit, there is no way we can compete with that.”
“It’s not like we’re strangers.”
“Sure. Fine. But we’re nottogether.” Regardless of how surprisingly good Adam was at pretending.
Adam’s mouth tightens. He steps fully in front of me, and then both hands are on my shoulders. Adam dips his head so we’re eye to eye, and then just… maintains eye contact while saying nothing. It is highly unnerving.
“What is happening right now?”
“We’re getting on the same wavelength,” Adam says without blinking.
I stare back into his hazel eyes, noticing every speck of color in his irises and the tiny freckle on his right eyelid—details I should probably never be close enough to notice—and for a few seconds, it almost feels like it’s working. Like we’re connecting on some deep, intimate level. But then, of course, I realize that’s ridiculous. This is just some bizarre pregame ritual of Adam’s. A way for him to hype himself up and get in the zone, and we are not connected in any way besides circumstance, no matter how much we might have seemed like “relationship goals” to Mae last night.
I break eye contact and swat his hands away. “Okay, stop. I feel like you’re trying to hypnotize me or something. It’s creepy.”
Adam frowns like I’m the weird one, but he straightens and gets out of my personal space all the same. “Don’t stress out about this. We know each other well enough to fake it.”
