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Dropping my phone, I race to the door and open it without hesitation because I know he’s out there. He wouldn’t tease me like that. He’s standing at the curb, the phone raised before him, and then his eyes flick to mine, a slow smile spreading on his face. He’s wearing those ripped jeans that I love so much, a hand tucked into the pocket, pushing his jeans further down his hips, and his tan carpenter boots, one foot casually crossed over the other.
He’s leaning against that piece of metal on wheels. In my bare feet, I race down the steps, instantly regretting it because the pavement burns my feet, but there’s no way I’m turning around now. So I do the only thing I can, jump into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist.
There’s a whoosh of air as I slam into him.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, patting him down, and then finally settling my palms against his face. The sun brightens his brown eyes, making the green flecks more prominent. I’ve missed those eyes raking over me and settling on my face, pulling out all my secrets.
“You kept me waitingfartoo long, baby,” he says, with a raspy voice.
“I told you I don’t like nicknames,” I tease, pushing my hands into his hair and breathing him in.
“What should I call you then?” he asks, playing along.
“Just call me yours,” I whisper before kissing him.
Melting against him, I don’t think a kiss has ever tasted sweeter. My hands sink further into his hair as he kisses me back, and I don’t care if it’s a hundred-and-ten out, I’ll stay out here all day kissing him if I could.
Peeking over his shoulder at the motorcycle, I smile. “If you think I’m getting on the back of that bike, you’re crazy,” I say against his lips as he walks towards the house with me still wrapped around him.
“I am crazy,” he says, palming my ass and kissing me again. “You’re gonna put some shoes on and then your sweet ass is getting on the back of my bike.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” I laugh.
* * *
If You Were Hereby Thompson Twins
Pullingup outside of his apartment a short while later, I’m glad he gave me his leather jacket to keep the sun from burning me. The ride wasn’t so bad either, especially because I could wrap my arms around Adrian’s waist. Although leaning my cheek against his warm shoulder would have been ideal, the helmet he made me wear prevented it.
Pulling off the helmet, I shake out my hair and catch him watching me. God, I’ve missed his eyes on me.
We walk past the swimming pool and stop at the stairs leading up to his apartment. The first time I met him, I stood on this first step with trepidation about going into a stranger's apartment. He looks at me, just as he did that night, giving me a sign that everything will be alright. I didn’t know it then, but he would turn out to be my Jake Ryan. When he takes my hand and rubs his thumb along the top, I let him lead me up the stairs.
“I have something for you,” he says, while digging in his pockets for the key.
Lifting my eyebrows at him, I wrap my hand around his waist, feeling his heated skin from the ride over. “Oh, yeah?” I ask, imagining what he has in store for me.
He grins with those lush lips curved into a smile as he unlocks the door and pushes it open with his hip. When I step inside, I notice most of the furniture is gone and boxes are stacked up along an empty wall.
“Are you moving?” I ask, feeling a nervous flutter of my heart. He’s a touring artist now, and what that means for us I don’t know.
“I’m gonna be on tour, and my lease is up next month,” he explains as I walk in further, seeing how different his apartment looks without his bookcase full of records and the old record player I’d dropped anAerosmithalbum on all those months ago. The graffiti poster with the colorful feathers is gone, and so are the pictures above the fireplace. There’s no soft gray couch in the middle of the room either.
As I twirl around, taking in the emptiness and what this really means, I finally notice the birthday cake with white frosting and pink roses sitting on the kitchen counter as Adrian lights the last candle. The flames flicker, casting shadows on the empty walls, and I’m transfixed as I try to count the number of candles. “There better not be forty-four candles on there. You’ll set this place on fire,” I joke.
With a smile, he lifts me on the counter and then takes his place opposite me, crossing his legs in front of the cake.
“Make a wish, Lake,” he says with a deep voice, the only sound to be heard over the beating of my heart.
“Sixteen Candles?” I ask, looking across the cake at him. “How did you…” I start to ask, trying to figure out how he could possibly know thatSixteen Candlesis my favorite movie, but then I remember when he came to measure my house for new flooring. He’d picked up the DVD from the pile next to my couch.
“I told you,” he gifts me with a cunning smile. “I pay attention,” he says, “especially when it comes to you.”
I tilt my head to get a better look at him. A great head of hair, perfect smile, broad shoulders – he might not have a Porsche, but he’s about as close to Jake Ryan as they come.
Looking at the cake, I try to think of something to wish for… but I’m at a loss. There’s nothing left I want – nothing left to wish for.
“When do you have to go back on tour?”
