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“What did you find this time?” Adrian asks before taking a sip of his tea.
I smile at him, having to hold in tears because for the first time since moving away, someone isn’t interrogating me about my life choices. He studies me and I know he likely can sense my unexpected emotional response, but he doesn’t ask me about it. I sip my tea and regain my composure before responding.
“You’ve read it?” He nods, so I continue. “Do you remember the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock? Gatsby focused so much on that green light, enchanting himself to think that it was her. And then when Daisy was finally in his presence, the light lost all its meaning.” I pause, tracing the rim of my cup. “I think people do that a lot. Fall in love with the idea of a life that isn’t theirs and then when they step into that life, suddenly it’s different than what they thought. Duller than they imagined.”
I’ve done that, my heart whispers. I spent years dreaming of a life away from my family. My imagination concocted beautiful friendships and romance and a home filled with all the love and light I never had. But then I got here and it was like I was paralyzed by the notion ofliving. How do you function in peace when all you’ve ever known is chaos? So, I built a sanctuary and a fortress in one, staying safe, never risking more than I thought I could handle losing. Six years later, I’m still working through those feelings.
“I understand,” Adrian says, making me lift my head in surprise.
“You do?” I don’t give him a chance to respond before I ramble more. “It’s a depressing thought, though, that you chase something only for it to turn out differently than you wanted.”
The way he regards me, his blue eyes holding my gaze with such care, is unnerving. I don’t know what to make of this thing between us, if there’s anything at all.
“It’s a little depressing,” he agrees. “But one of the best parts of life is that you can start over each day. My mom always said that.” His hand reaches up and rubs his chest and my eyes catch on a glinting gold chain poking out of the collar of his sweater.
“That’s true,” I say in a quiet voice.
I take another sip of my delicious hazelnut tea, watching the stoic man across from me. Maybe I can start over. The first risk I can take is becoming Adrian’s friend. I’m certain that my heart couldn’t handle the destruction he’d bring if I fell in love with him in the process, but maybe it’s worth it. If only so I can say that I actually lived my life instead of hiding from it.
Chapter thirteen
Adrian Carter
Ifinishmymorningrun in record time. Juliette’s floodlight turned on while I was on the opposite side of the lake and I practically sprinted around the last bend. My chest is burning and I purposefully slow myself down as I get closer so I’m not out of breath when I walk up. After our time in the café on Saturday, I’ve been counting down until I got to see her again. And whenever I found myself looking at the time on my phone or wishing hours would move faster, I’d tell myself to stop, but it didn’t work.
I ended up convincing myself that I’m looking forward to seeing heras a friend. That’s why warmth floods my body when I see her sitting in a nest of blankets, her blonde hair in double braids, because it’s good to see my friend.
“Good morning, Adrian,” she says in her honeyed voice, lifting up a carafe. “I made you some tea.”
I stare at her over the railing, taking in her sleepy smile and slightly puffy eyes. It occurs to me that she didn’t wake up this early when I first moved here.Does she come out here to see me?I push away the thought, unwilling to flatter myself that sweet Juliette would deprive herself of sleeping in forme.
“Good morning.” I clear my throat, my eyes drifting to the stairs leading up to her.
“Come sit, there’s plenty of room.” When I don’t move, she rushes to add. “If you have time and want to, that is.”
“I have time.” I walk up the steps and she scoots over so that there’s more space for me on the wicker couch. I move the blankets over so I don’t get them dirty with sweat and sit down.
“I made a cinnamon tea. It’s one of my favorites to have in the morning.”
She leans out of her seat to pour the tea into a ceramic teacup with bumblebees painted onto it. I usually drink my tea out of a plain white mug, or one with a Thrashers’ logo on it that MJ got me for Christmas last year, so this is new for me. It even comes with a saucer that has flowers on it. She hands it to me with a bright smile.
I’m careful to not let our hands touch, to avoid any unwanted sensations on my part. My efforts to avoid feelings are in vain though, because while moving, her sweater shifted, exposing her shoulder and a lacy burgundy strap. The urge to kiss the exposed skin hits me hard, the intensity of my attraction catching me off guard. I’ve known Juliette was beautiful since I saw her standing in her driveway, but this overwhelming need is new. My skin heats and I’m grateful when she pulls the fabric back over her shoulder.
Even with her skin covered, I find myself needing to avert my eyes. I focus on the ripples of tea as I drink it. The cinnamon is the perfect amount of sweetness and I can see why it’s her favorite.
“Do you like it?” Juliette asks and I lift my gaze to where she’s cuddled up on the opposite side of the couch, looking content as she takes a dainty sip.
“It’s good.”
She smiles at me, undeterred by my short answer, then sets her cup on the table.
“So,” she begins, sitting up some more. That blasted sweater falls off her shoulder again, but she makes no move to adjust it. I grip my cup tighter. “I was thinking about your friendship lessons.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you were joking.”
“I was,” she says with a laugh. “But the more I thought about it, the more I think it could be fun. You said yourself you don’t have many friends and I don’t either, but only because there aren’t any people my age here. So we’re each the perfect person to practice with.”
“That sounds awful.”
