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Dammit, Gladys and her strong-ass margaritas.
Very carefully, I try to maneuver into a sitting position, but there’s no room, and I don’t want to wake him. So I just surrender and fall back against his body, swallowed up by the couch and his tall frame.
While lying in silence, I stare at Adam, wondering what version of him I’ll get when he wakes up. Will I get the version that looks as if the world is breaking down around him? Or the one that smiles, with the dimples and soft wrinkles around his eyes instead of between his brows?
Or the dark side that lets me wear his hand like a necklace?
He’s been so broken by someone he was meant to trust. I can see the torment radiating from him with every mood swing, every grimace, and every smile. His world has been ripped out of his hands, his self-identity with it, and I can’t help but wish I could just wrap my arms around him and put him back together.
Only a few minutes pass before he starts to stir too. And he seems just as perplexed by this unexpected sleeping arrangement when his eyes open and he notices my half-naked body pressed against his.
Leaning back, he stares at me for a moment before letting out a yawn. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I reply. “Thanks for taking care of me last night.”
“Of course,” he says. He climbs off the couch and turns his body away from me. “It was…interesting.”
“You mean the book club?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
It would seem I’m getting the guarded Adam, who keeps his emotions walled up and secret, achieved with a blank expression and one-word answers in a flat tone.
“You can just say it was fun, Adam,” I say as I climb off the couch and head toward the kitchen.
I only make it two steps before a hand grips my arm, steering me around to face him. His face is only inches from mine as he stares down into my eyes as if he’s ready to say something. I wait one long second after another before he finally gives in and mumbles quietly, “It was fun. Thank you for letting me stick around.”
I’m lost in his eyes, feeling them look right into my soul.
“Well, we have to look like a couple, right?” I say, quietly. My eyes dance from his eyes to his lips and back up. Morning breath be damned. I think he might kiss me right now, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.
I need to know what to expect. Maybe that’s why I’ve stuck around with shitty boyfriends for so long—no surprises. They were simple, predictable and made my emotions easy to define.
But with Adam, nothing makes sense. Desire and attraction have always felt very one-sided. Of course, I like him. Of course, I want him. Look at him.
But he never lets himself want me—even when he clearly does. And now…lines are getting blurry and it’s making me panic.
His hand drops away from my arm as he steps backward. “That’s right. We have to make everyone believe it.”
I slip away, going quietly to the bedroom to get dressed.
The apartment is tense and quiet as I start making coffee. Adam uses the bathroom and comes back with Roscoe in his arms. Then, without me even having to ask, he climbs out the fire escape window and takes him outside.
While he’s gone, I pull out my phone. The scent of brewing coffee fills the room as I start to scroll. And the first thing I notice is that I have more notifications than usual. It only takes a moment before I realize it’s because I’ve been tagged, and when I click onwhatI’ve been tagged in, my heart nearly stops.
It’s a video of me sleeping on my couch. Subtle light filters in from a small lamp in the corner. Then, Adam’s face enters the frame, and he leans down, pressing his lips to my cheek.
My jaw nearly hits the floor.
Adam took this while I was sleeping. People are sharing it, tagging me, clearly invested in our relationship.
Fake relationship, Sage. Fake.
I have to keep reminding myself of that because I swear my heart doesn’t know the difference when it sees stuff like this and starts fluttering in excitement regardless.
Being on Adam’s account suddenly has me scrolling, and I can’t help but notice how hard it is to hold back my smile as I pass picture after picture of him looking handsome as hell every time. Some of the photos are clearly modeled by a photographer and some are candid of him and his brothers or his mother.
There’s one of him that’s clearly a selfie, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, holding a cup of coffee in some outdoor café. He looks like the kind of man supermodels fight over and absolutelynothinglike the guys I date. He doesn’t even have a single tattoo on his body.
