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This is wrong. Me spending time with him, him taking me to his “secret” spot. This is all so wrong.
“You want to get to know me? Let’s play ten questions.”
I sigh. He’s trying in his own way, I guess.
“You first.”
He pauses, waiting for the right words to come to him. “Favorite color?”
“Red. Yours?”
“Black.”
I smother a chuckle. This is the most predictable answer he could’ve possibly given. He is almost always wearing black.
“Biggest fear?” he asks.
“Serious life-changing one or dumb one?”
“Both.” He raises his eyebrows. “Start with the dumb one.”
“That’s easy. Clowns.”
I am not surprised when he howls with laughter.
“Shut up, it’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny considering that you’re hanging out with criminals and the only thing that crosses your mind is your fear of clowns.”
He’s not wrong.
“It sounds way worse when you put it like that.”
His smile only grows wider. “And the serious one?”
“It’s a very deep and complicated road you’re taking, Mr. Adams.”
He doesn’t speak at first, looking deeply into my eyes.
“Maybe I like complicated.”
His eyes drop to my lips for a little too long, and my heart decides now is the perfect time to pretend it’s a drum in my rib cage. I flush and break the eye contact, repressing the many conflicted emotions running in my veins. What was that?
“I think I’m afraid of regrets,” I mumble.
He doesn’t say a word, waiting for a backstory of some sort, until he finally blurts. “Oh come on, no explanation?”
I sigh, the shadow of a smile tugging at my lips.
“I’m talking about the ‘down the road’ regrets. You know, the ‘I failed at life’ regrets,” I confide. “I’m scared of that moment when you wake up in bed with your boring husband that you haven’t had sex with in months and curse because you have to go to that job you hate that you only got to pay your bills. I’m afraid of the moment you look around and realize you fucked up. The moment you realize that you settled for something you knew wouldn’t make you happy because it seemed like the right thing to do. Or maybe you settled for this guy you knew wasn’t the love of your life, but he was here, emotionally available, and he was stable. So you stayed. I’m afraid of not trying everything I want and choosing a routine over an adventure. I’m afraid, no—I’m terrified of surviving instead of living and doing all the right things for the wrong reasons.”
I finish my speech and narrow my eyes, realizing that I basically just told Haze her story—my mother’s. My biggest fear is to end up like her. Angry, unsatisfied, bitter, knocked up at sixteen by the neighborhood’s trashy boy and kicked out to the curb by her own parents. She was a single mother for years before she found a “great guy” to marry. Deep down, I know she’ll never look at my step-father the way she looked at my biological one. Harry was convenient, stable, and he loved her. She said yes, but her heart screamed no. That’s probably why she’s always been so cold to me. To everyone.
Because she did all the right things for the wrong reasons.
Haze presses his lips together, the silence surrounding us as thick as it could ever be.
“That was deep.”
