by Tilly Kane
absolutely adam
ABCs of L-O-V-E
Tilly Kane
Contents
1. Brooklyn
2. Adam
3. Brooklyn
4. Adam
5. Brooklyn
6. Adam
7. Brooklyn
8. Adam
9. Brooklyn
10. Adam
11. Brooklyn
12. Adam
13. Brooklyn
14. Epilogue: Adam
Thank you!
BRAZENLY BEAU
BRAZENLY BEAU
1
Brooklyn
When my plane touches down at LAX, I've got two things on my mind. One: I feel like they should definitely play Miley Cyrus's 'Party in the USA' on every plane landing at this airport, although I suppose that could get annoying to some people. And two: I can't freaking wait to see Charlie in person for the first time in months.
This is the longest we've ever been apart, and I'm not embarrassed to admit that I missed my best friend something fierce. We grew up together and even went to the same college, so we were inseparable for years. After graduation, Charlie decided to take a solo backpacking trip through Europe, mostly to avoid having to make any major decisions regarding her future.
I, unfortunately, did not have the luxury of traveling around Europe. I barely had enough money to 'Party in the USA,' so to speak. After graduation, while Charlie was off gallivanting, I moved back to our hometown and got a job at a doctor's office to pay some bills. That was almost 8 months ago.
When Charlie mentioned she'd be visiting LA for a job interview and asked me to join her for a mini girls' trip, I immediately requested the time off from my job. It was approved without incident. But yesterday, as I was packing up to leave the office, my boss pulled me aside and strongly implied that it would be wise for me to cancel my PTO since several people called out at the last minute and the office would be short-staffed.
Maybe it was immature of me, but I refused to cancel my trip, citing the fact that I'd already paid for my non-refundable plane ticket once my PTO was approved. I left the office with a bad taste in my mouth, and I vowed to start looking for something new once I was back home. Until then, I would try to put it out of my mind.
The main reason Charlie had been able to travel after college was that her trip was fully funded by her older brother, an actual bazillionaire tech guru. Charlie had offered to have him pay for me to travel too, but I just couldn't accept that from him.
Sigh. Adam Harper. Charlie's brother. A literal genius. And the boy I've been in love with since I could remember.
Adam is six years older than I am, so I know he never noticed me when we were growing up. And unfortunately, he left our hometown for Silicon Valley right before I turned 16. Not that I think something would have happened between us had he stayed. Did I mention he's effing hot AND a genius? Cause yeah, he is.
Adam graciously agreed to let me and Charlie stay at his house on the beach in Venice. He'd moved down to LA a year ago after spending several years in the Bay Area. When Charlie first told me we would be staying at Adam's place, I nearly had a stroke on the phone. But then she explained that we would hardly see him because he'd be at the office the whole week working on some big project.
I know I need to stop pining for a guy I can never have and start focusing on building my life in my hometown, but I can't help it. It's been seven years since I've seen him in person, and he no doubt has some supermodel in his bed every night of the week.
But real life has dealt me a shitty hand the past few months, and my fantasies of Adam are the only thing keeping me somewhat sane. What's a little harmless daydreaming anyway? Trust me, I am fully aware of the fact that Adam Harper wouldn't want a girl like me even in my wildest dreams.
2
Adam
As I pull into my driveway, I take a few deep breaths, trying to put myself in a better headspace so that I'm not a grumpy asshole when I see my sister. Hell, I love my sister, and I'm thrilled that she might be moving out here permanently. But I'm just not in the mood to be a nice host, and all I want to do is hole up in my home office. I cringe as I remember just how loud our house could get when Charlie would have her friends over as kids. Thankfully, she's just brought one friend with her for this trip, so hopefully, my noise-canceling headphones will do the trick.
When I agreed to let Charlie and her friend Brooklyn stay here, I'd originally thought I would be out of town for work. I'd recently taken on a high-profile position leading the board of LVRY -- a luxury ride-share platform that I truthfully had minimal interest in. But they'd sold the position to me as a chance to innovate and help this failing company turn its business model around. I've always been up for a challenge and was in between projects at the time, so I figured I might as well take the gig. Of course, the position has only ended up being one big headache after another, which is a whole other story.
My original travel plans changed and now I have to cram all this work into the next few days or else I'll lose one of our biggest investors while also playing host to my sister and her best friend. It's been years since I've seen Brooklyn, but I can only hope that she's not around too often needing me to entertain her while Charlie goes off on her interview.
Sounds of a popular 90s boyband song fill my house as I enter the front door. It's jarring for a moment, to have signs of life in my typically quiet and orderly home. I can't say I hate it, even though I do turn the volume down a few decibels.
My sister rounds the corner, her hair half done, a mascara wand in her hand, and launches herself at me for a hug.
"Hiii, how was work? Wanna come clubbing with us? You remember Brooklyn, right?"
Charlie finally takes a breath, gesturing over her shoulder to where -- what the fuck?
I don't know what I expected -- maybe a gangly, awkward kid, which is how Charlie's friends are forever engrained in my mind -- but Jesus, Brooklyn is very much not that.
She stands a few feet away from us, waving shyly and looking like my actual future, my dream girl, my everything. I feel like I've been gut-punched.
I'm momentarily stunned as I take in every inch of her, top to bottom, starting with her thick, wavy auburn hair that I just want to run my hands through immediately. She's got a heart-shaped face, with the cutest cheeks and sparkling hazel eyes. Her lips -- dear God -- they're plump and naturally turned up at the corners and suddenly, all I want is to make her smile, every day of my life.
Her face is angelic but her body was made for sin. She's got round, generous tits, with wide hips and thick thighs that are just perfect for me. She's perfect for me.
I suppose I've been staring for a while, because my sister clears her throat next to me, snapping me out of my Brooklyn-induced stupor.
"Bro, get your head out of the clouds -- don't tell me you're thinking about work again," she chides.
Work? What is work?
Suddenly, I don't even think I could explain my own job, nor do I give a shit about my company or work or anything else that isn't this exact moment with Brooklyn.
Knowing I need to touch her, I reach out for a handshake, which she accepts. Her hand is delicate, but her handshake is firm and more assertive than I expected.
"Hi Adam, long time no see," she says, her voice a melodic mix of husky and sweet. "Thank you so much for letting me stay here. I'll try to stay out of your way."
I clear my throat, my voice sounding foreign to my ears. "You won't be in my way. It's no problem, truly."
If I'm not mistaken, Brooklyn blushes a little, but before I can think too much about it, Charlie pulls her away, back toward the guest bedrooms.
"We gotta finish getting ready, let me know if you want to go to the club wi
th us!" Charlie yells over her shoulder.
I pour myself a glass of Scotch and ease into my favorite living room chair, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. I don't think my sister will mind if I accompany them to the club, but I am almost positive she invited me just to be polite. And likely because she figured I'd say no.
She wasn't wrong to assume that, but that was before. Before seeing Brooklyn for the first time in years and realizing that nothing has ever mattered before this moment. My entire life has been leading up to right now, and I'm desperate to make sure that I don't ruin it before it even starts.
I have never in my life wanted to go to a club. I've only ever been dragged there against my will. And now? Hell, I'm seriously debating joining them. But no, I'll sit this one out. I know it would just be awkward and the last thing I want to do is cramp their style. Besides, they haven't seen each other in a while and they need to have their girls' night.
My resolve to stay my ass at home nearly falters a little while later, as I freeze at the sight of Brooklyn coming down the stairs, ready for her night on the town.
Because, wow, just kill me. I want to die when I see her in this tight little black dress that leaves very little to the imagination, with her long, shapely legs looking delicious. I can't fight the quiet groan that escapes me when she makes her way into the living room.
She gives me a shy smile and stands awkwardly far away from me. I yearn to pull her into my lap and ask her where the fuck she thinks she's going dressed like that. But I can't. I really can't. She's not mine. Not yet.
I nod toward a nearby armchair. "You should make yourself comfortable. You know how long Charlie can take to get ready."
Her eyes widen comically and she shakes her head and waves her hand over her body. "This dress is so short, I might accidentally flash you if I sit down," she jokes.
But I'm not laughing. I have to force myself to not glance down the length of her body as she gestures to herself. I take a huge sip of my Scotch, nearly choking on it as I sputter out, "So, you ready for your night on the town?" I ask, kicking myself because seriously? Do I have to sound like such a dad right now?
She smiles and shrugs, laughing a bit. Oh god, her laugh. How is everything about her perfect?
"To be honest, I'm not exactly a party girl. I like dancing and good music, but I could leave the rest of the 'club experience,' like gross guys trying to dance with me or uncomfortable heels and terrible drinks."
I barely hear the rest of what she says because my brain gets stuck on 'guys trying to dance with me.' I hate it. I want to accompany her to the club and just be her bodyguard the whole night.
Instead, I school my features into some semblance of normal, and I force myself to say goodbye to Brooklyn and Charlie a short while later. It's just one night. It's not the end of the world. Just one night.
3
Brooklyn
My first (and probably last) LA club experience is nothing like what I was expecting. Sure, the music has been good and the atmosphere is nice. But I came out tonight with the express purpose of having a good time with Charlie and unfortunately, she disappeared like half an hour ago.
She has since texted me, explaining that she's hanging out with some hot guy she met and plans to go home with him. She apologizes profusely, and I know I can't be too annoyed with her. This is not something she's ever done on any of the countless times we've been out together, so I know this guy must be pretty special.
Still, it leaves me in a weird position, since I don't have the money to spend on a ride by myself. Charlie knew that but I guess she must have forgotten everything when the hot guy appeared. I'm trying to not be mad at her because my best friend is one of the most considerate people I know and is clearly experiencing some life-changing sexual chemistry or something. But that doesn't exactly change the fact that she's left me alone at a club in a city I don't know, with very little money. I briefly consider taking public transportation, but a quick search on my phone tells me LA doesn't have a ton of options.
So, I delay doing what I know I'm going to have to do, which is to reach out to Adam and ask him if he can send me an Uber. I shouldn't feel bad about it, because the dude has approximately one trillion dollars, but the last thing I want is for him to think I'm taking advantage of him.
I decide to dance on my own for a bit, enjoying the rush of confidence I get when I realize I can go out on the dance floor by myself and nobody will even notice or care. It feels nice, almost freeing. The song changes to a slow, grinding sort of jam, and I take a step away from the dance floor but am stopped by an arm around my waist and a slurred voice in my ear.
"Where you going, sweetheart? I was just coming to see if you wanted to dance?" the man asks.
I turn to face him and find a moderately attractive but very drunk frat bro looking guy who can't be older than 20. Not going to lie, I admire the balls it takes to approach someone at a club. Still, I don't want to dance with him. Mainly because I don't want to dance with anyone tonight. Well, anyone but Adam.
I size up the frat bro, wondering if he will be the type to make a fuss when I reject him or be chill about it. But before I can say anything, a strong arm wraps around my shoulders, gently pulling me into a wall of muscular chest. I know it's Adam without even looking up to confirm, which I do anyway.
Frat bro's eyes widen and he gives us a little shrug. "Sorry man, didn't realize she was --," he trails off, apparently seeing something in Adam's eyes that causes him to flee.
Once he's gone, I turn to face Adam, my breath nearly catching when I realize I've never seen him dressed for a club, and I very much like it. Okay, fine, I like it when he wears anything.
"What are you doing here? And what was that for?" I ask, surprised at how annoyed my voice sounds. I should be happy to see him. And part of me is happy. But another part of me -- the more reasonable part of me -- is just trying to make it through this trip without pining too hard for him, and it's hard to do that when he just randomly shows up places being all handsome and smoldering.
Adam assesses me from head to toe, and I shiver a little under his heated gaze.
"Charlie texted me," Adam explains, "asked me to order you a ride. Do I even want to know where she's off to?"
I shake my head.
"Probably not. So, instead of ordering a ride, you decided to just come here yourself? That seems unnecessary."
A group of club-goers pushes into us, and Adam places his hand on the small of my back, pulling me closer to him like I'm something precious. Almost as soon as it arrived, his touch is gone. I miss it like crazy.
Adam looks adorably embarrassed under my scrutiny, which I find endearing for some reason. "Ah, sorry, yeah. It might be overkill. But I wasn't doing anything and figured I'd see if you were safe," he says. "Besides, I didn't know if you wanted to stay longer? If so, I'm happy to wait in a booth while you dance as much as you want."
Why do his words turn me on so instantly? It's unfair.
Something about tonight -- I don't know if it's the atmosphere or the fact that I'm in a new city or the fact that Adam is in front of me looking sexy as hell -- most likely it's a combination of all those things -- but something makes me feel bold and I decide I'm going to run with it.
Faking confidence I damn sure do not have, I reach out and grab Adam's hand, leading him out to the crowded dance floor.
I'm surprised that he doesn't even try to pull away from me and instead follows me willingly. When I chance a look up at his face, he's giving me an inscrutable look, his eyes sparkling with some sort of mischief, his gorgeous lips turned up in a suggestion of a smile.
I raise an eyebrow, an unspoken invitation. I hold my breath the whole time, wondering if this is real, am I going to get a chance to dance with my lifelong crush right now?
All signs point to yes when Adam gives me a tiny head nod just as the song changes to an uptempo pop hit.
And then, we're dancing. Time passes in a blur and I couldn't tell you
how many songs we dance to. All I know is that we start fairly chaste, the sort of dancing you might do with a cousin at a wedding or something. But that very quickly transforms into something else, something I don't want to stop and think about too much in case I lose my nerve.
Adam's hands are all over me -- gripping my hair, squeezing my hip, cupping my face. Despite several close calls, every time I think he's about to kiss me, he pulls away. I'm nearly mindless with wanting him, especially when the DJ switches to a classic R&B song and we transition into a dirty little grind. All around us, couples are dry humping one another, which seems to give us the permission we need to do the same.
Adam's thick, muscular thigh is wedged between my legs, and I can feel my already-short dress riding up my thighs. But as Adam grips my waist and directs me to grind on him, I could not care less about who sees me. All I care about is us and what I want to do to Adam. What I want him to do to me.
Even though I'm practically humping his leg, I still have no idea how Adam feels about this whole thing -- or how he feels about me. I glance up at him and find him staring down at me, purpose and something else in his eyes -- eyes which, at the moment, are lust-blown and full of desire. Oof, the look he gives me should be criminal. I can barely stand it. Just as I'm about to break our too-intense eye contact, Adam's hand cups my chin and he keeps me looking up at him.
"Brooklyn, you're such a beauty, it's killing me," he rasps.
Of all the things I could have predicted he would say, this is near the very bottom of the list. It's so hilarious -- preposterous, even -- that it almost feels like he's just saying a line to get me to fuck him or something. Which is unnecessary on so many levels. My resulting frown must give me away.