by Jamie Shaw
I have no idea why that makes me feel all . . . blah.
“I’m sure you’ll find her eventually,” I assure Mike. “You probably need to look in better places though.”
“Yeah, the girls we meet at these shows . . .” He shakes his head. “They’re only interested in one thing.”
“Sex?”
He chuckles and shakes his head some more. “No, sex I’d be okay with. They just want the fame. They want to be able to say that they bagged one of the guys in the band. I’m not interested in a chick that’s going to bang me on a bus on the first night she met me, with my buddies hanging out two feet away, you know what I mean?”
If only Mike knew how close I had come to being one of those chicks. “Yeah” is all I can say.
After we finish the pizza, which I insist on paying for since I actually brought my wallet along this time, Mike walks me back to the club. Inside it looks—and smells—just like I remember it. It’s dark and pinkly lit and smells so strongly of perfume that I might be tempted to wear a gas mask if I had one handy. I don’t know if Emily’s sprays the place down before they open, or if it’s just the smell of all of the trashy girls crammed in here, but the effect is overwhelming.
Mike walks in front of me to part the sea of people as we make our way to the bar. I immediately know where Adam must be sitting because the crowd is much denser there.
“Adam’s over there,” Mike says with a nod in the direction I suspected. “I’m going to hit the bathroom. You cool on your own?”
“Yep. See ya later.”
I weave and squeeze my way between people as I make my way to the end of the bar. I walk until I can’t walk any farther—because I’ve reached a point where people are flat-out refusing to budge, giving me dirty looks for trying to force my way between them. I can see Adam, but there’s no way he’ll hear me from all the way over here. Michelle is still clinging to him, teetering on the edge of the stool next to him, practically tumbling face-first into his lap. There are people standing all around him, girls and guys alike. Frustrated, I stand there and huff.
“Need a little help?”
I look over my shoulder to see Joel. Thank freaking God. I turn around and smile up at him. “Hey.” He has his arm around a brunette, and a girl who looks like her twin sister is clinging to his other side.
“Hey ADAM!” Joel yells over my shoulder, and Adam finally looks up to see us. The crowd follows his line of vision and makes room for us as we walk over. There’s hardly anywhere to stand, but Adam pulls me in close, and I somehow find myself standing right between him and Michelle. My back is to her, and I know she must be seething.
Rowan: 1. Michelle: who the hell cares.
“Tequila shot?” Adam asks with a playful grin, and I look at the bar in front of him to see a few empty shot glasses already lined up.
“Looks like you’ve already had a few.”
“But none with you!” he says. “We need to celebrate!” When he tugs me onto his lap, I squeal and grab his shoulders for balance.
“You haven’t passed the test yet,” I tease.
Adam’s voice is subtly lower when he says, “What will I get when I do?”
Oh my.
I less-than-gracefully fumble off his lap. What was that about? And why is it so goddamn hot in here?
When the bartender takes our order, I ask for a White Russian and Adam orders two unsolicited shots. He either forgot about Michelle or he forgot about me, or maybe he didn’t order one for himself . . . Either way, this is going to be interesting.
“Where is everyone?” I ask. Joel has disappeared, and I have no idea where any of the other guys are.
“Most of the guys are on the dance floor. Shawn went to see about getting us a table, I think. Or to check out the DJ booth. Or, actually, he might be in the bathroom too, maybe . . . I think . . .”
I can’t help chuckling. “You have no idea, do you?”
When Adam shakes his head with a goofy grin on his face, I want to take his cheeks in my hands and kiss him. Or rub noses. Or . . . hell, I don’t know. Something equally ridiculous.
“Adam,” Michelle suddenly says from behind me, reminding me that she’s alive, “come dance with me?”
Adam shakes his head, and I’m not sure if I should count this as 2 for Team Rowan, but I’m going to anyway. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that yet.”
When large hands land on my shoulders, making me jump, I look back to see Shawn’s big green eyes staring at me from under his messy black hair. He smiles and leaves his hands on my shoulders as he tells Adam, “I got us a table.”
Our drinks arrive with impeccable timing. I pick mine up and sip on it as we maneuver our way through the crowd to get to a back table where it’s a little quieter. The table is a massive corner booth. The seat is soft pink leather, and there’s a knee-high hot-pink circle table in the center. Mike, Joel, Joel’s twins, and an extra girl I saw flirting with Shawn back on the bus are already there. Shawn slides in next to her, followed by Michelle and Adam. I stay standing off to the side, wanting a quick exit strategy in case Adam and Michelle decide to start sucking face, like God knows he’s prone to doing. Adam tries to tug me in next to him, but I take his hand in mine and lower it back down. “I’m good,” I say.
He frowns up at me, but I smile to reassure him. I don’t want to ruin his last night on the road.
Ugh, the thought almost makes me teary-eyed. Is that why I’ve been feeling so crazy? Tonight is the last night I’ll have with him and the guys. After tonight, it’s back to my boring, depressing, Adamless life. Adamless and Shawnless and Mikeless. Joelless and Driverless. Hell, even Codyless.
Adam hands me one of the two shots he carried over, and I shake my head.
“Just take it,” he says. “No hidden attachments.”
“Can I have a lime and the salt?” I ask.
Adam hands it over, watching me curiously. Interested in seeing what a tequila shot tastes like when it’s taken the way it’s supposed to be, I lick the back of my hand, sprinkle some salt over top, lick it off, down the shot, and bite into the lime. I wipe my chin with the back of my clean hand and grin at the dazed look Adam is giving me.
“Thanks,” I finally say.
His tongue flicks out to trace his bottom lip, and I have to look anywhere else. This place really needs air-conditioning, and a better ventilation system, and . . . air to ventilate.
“So Rowan,” Michelle says, and I suck in a silent breath, welcoming the distraction. “How is Brady?”
Chapter Eighteen
THE TRUMPETS THAT should have accompanied the end of my world never sounded. I’m caught completely unprepared, staring at Michelle with shock stamped onto my face. I quickly mask my expression and hope no one else caught it, because my answer comes out sounding miraculously unfazed and flawless.
“I wouldn’t know. We’re not together anymore.”
“Oh,” she says. She’s trying to seem sympathetic, but I can see right through her bullshit. “That’s a shame. You two were so adorable together.”
“Who’s Brady?” Adam asks.
“No one,” I answer, but Michelle can’t keep her big mouth shut.
“You guys dated for like . . . how long? Like all of high school, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Are you seriously fucking asking me that?”
Whoa. I did not mean to snap like that.
Michelle’s eyes get huge, and I’m stumbling to apologize. “Sorry . . . I mean . . . I just really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well you could have just said so . . .”
I sigh and chew on my lip. I feel like everyone is staring at me—probably because they are. I sit down next to Adam mostly just to try to blend in so that I’m not so easy t
o gape at. I’m thankful when the conversation moves away from me and my horrendously failed love life, and even more thankful when a server pops by to take our drink orders. I order another shot and a Long Island iced tea.
“Going out with a bang?” Adam asks in my ear, reminding me again that this is our last night together.
With my cheek against his, I share a secret. “I’m going to miss you.”
WHY DID I JUST SAY THAT?!
Adam pulls away to look at me, and I’m terrified of what he’s going to say. I probably just freaked him the hell out. I’m going to miss you? He’s known me for all of two days! He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then he closes it. Finally, he leans back in and says, “No, you won’t.”
When he pulls away to read my expression, I’m frowning. Like hell I won’t miss him.
He leans in again. “You’ll see me twice a week in class, and probably on weekends when I kidnap you for tutoring.”
Okay, I seriously might cry. Instead, I laugh. “Promise?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t make promises. But I’ll show you.”
It might be the drinks, or it might be Adam’s non-promise, but I’m suddenly not feeling nearly so bitchy. When Joel asks me to dance, I even let him pull me onto the dance floor.
He spins me and dips me and grinds against me a little too provocatively, but I can tell that’s just him and has nothing to do with me, so I let myself go with it, and we end up laughing hysterically on the dance floor at our ridiculous moves. By the time I’m following him back to the table, my hand fisted in the back of his button-down T-shirt as he leads me through the crowd, I’ve worked up a thin sheen of sweat. I nearly stop dead in my tracks when I see how cozy Michelle and Adam have gotten, but I somehow command my feet to keep moving forward.
Michelle has one hand cupped around Adam’s jaw, turning his head into her. Their foreheads are touching, and he’s grinning at her. She giggles and leans to the side to whisper something in his ear, and he licks his lips as he listens.
I roughly slide in next to him, accidentally throwing myself in a little too hard and slamming right into his back. When his head knocks against Michelle’s and they both yelp, I start giggling uncontrollably.
“Oh my God,” I say through giggles, “I’m sorry.”
Adam chuckles and rubs his forehead. “Thanks for that.”
“Any time.” I giggle some more, my eyes drifting over everyone at the table until I catch Shawn smirking at me. His eyes are glassy, proof of the collection of empty glasses he’s lined up over at his side of the table, not including any shots he had with Adam before we got here. “Feeling good, Shawn?” I tease.
He chuckles. “I’m feeling peachy!”
When my heart stops beating, he laughs a little harder. I really need to stop letting him catch me so off guard.
Michelle continues throwing herself at Adam as we all talk and drink, and just when I think I can’t take anymore, she asks him if he’s drunk enough to dance yet.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Not even close.”
“Then do you want to get out of here?” She says it quietly enough so that most of the table can’t hear, but my ears were tuned in to their conversation as if national security depended on it. I immediately stand up to let Adam out of the seat, not wanting to hear the way his voice sounds when he eventually asks me to move. My sudden movement causes him to look up at me. His expression is completely blank, and I can’t read it for shit, but his actions scream volumes. He starts scooting out of the seat, with Michelle practically joined to his hip.
I bite down so hard on the inside of my lip that I’m pretty sure I’m about to draw blood, but then I hear Shawn laughing. “Adam!” he shouts, and Adam stops scooting to look over at him. “Christ, man, you still don’t know who she is, do you?!”
Adam turns back toward Michelle and scrunches his eyebrows. “Huh?”
“Not her!” Shawn yells. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. “Her!” He points his finger at me, and it freezes me to the bone.
Adam’s eyes slowly swing back to mine. “What is he talking about?” he asks me, looking thoroughly confused.
“Nothing,” I sputter. “He’s drunk.”
“Just tell him who you are!” Shawn shouts, and I shoot him a threatening glare. I’m going to kill him. I’m seriously going to kill him!
“Who is she?” Adam asks Shawn, and I practically lift him out of the seat by his elbow, curling my fingers around his arm and yanking him away from the table.
When Michelle hurries to follow, I stop dead in my tracks to glare back at her and spit, “NOT YOU!” She stumbles back a step as if my words literally slapped her in the face, but I’m too panicked to feel good about it and immediately start hauling Adam toward the door again.
“You better tell him!” Shawn calls after us, but I ignore him, getting Adam out of that club as fast as humanly possible. He’s looking at me like I’m crazy, but he follows me without question.
Once we’re outside, he stops walking, and my tug on his arm gets us nowhere. “What was that about?”
I turn around and stare at him, gnawing on the inside of my lip. It’s going to be so sore tomorrow. “Can we just forget that happened?”
“No,” he says, his tone so much more serious than I’m used to hearing him, “tell me what he was talking about.”
I sigh and stare at the concrete beneath my feet; it takes me a moment, but I eventually summon the courage to look up at him. I take my glasses off and admit, “We’ve met before . . . Before this weekend.”
Adam eyes me curiously. “Where?”
I don’t want to say it, but Shawn is leaving me no choice. “Mayhem.”
“When?”
I tug on my earlobe nervously. I don’t want to have this conversation. This is the last thing I ever wanted. “A little over a month ago.” When I realize I’m still not saying enough, I finally add, “You’ve only been turned down by one girl, Adam. Not two . . . just one.”
Adam stares at me for a long moment, realization slowly washing over him. His eyes soften under the bright street lighting, the breeze gently blowing brown tendrils of hair across his forehead. “Just you,” he agrees quietly, and then, with his eyes still on mine, he reaches behind me. His fingers wrap around my hair tie and pull it down, letting my blonde waves fall free. Then they comb over my temples, pulling my long hair forward and over my shoulders.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say, frowning as he plays with my hair, but then he reaches up and caresses my bottom lip with the heel of his thumb. And just like last night, I’m frozen. I watch as the memories of our first kisses play in his head. With him touching me like that and looking at me like that, I have no idea what to say or feel or do . . . or . . . or . . . am I even breathing? Holy shit, I need to breathe.
When his gaze falls to my lips and he starts leaning into me, I inhale a sharp breath and take a nervous step away from him. “Whoa.”
He follows the step I take, his eyes smoldering. He slides one of his fingers through my belt loop to pull my hips forward as he forcefully closes the distance between us. My body is suddenly on fire, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to fend off all the bad decisions it’s begging me to make. At least he’s not mad . . . I don’t think . . .
“Adam,” I somehow manage to say, my voice breathless and uneven, “we’re still just friends.”
He shakes his head, spinning our bodies around in one quick motion so that I’m pressed with my back against the brick wall. He steps in tight, with one hand still holding my belt loop and the other braced beside my ear. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. His voice is low, dangerous, and sexy as sin. It makes my head spin. Is he pissed? Shit . . . I can’t even tell.
“I . . . I didn’t want you to know.”
“Well now I know.
” He’s so close and so tall, I have to look up to meet his eyes. They’re burning down into me, setting every cell in my body into a heat-induced frenzy.
I nod and swallow hard.
“You’ve been in my class for an entire month.”
I nod again, biting down on my bottom lip. But that only draws his attention back to my mouth, so I release it.
“And now you’ve spent the past three days with me, and you told Shawn—”
Cutting him off, I say, “I did not tell Shawn.”
“Then how does he know?”
“He recognized me. You didn’t.” I sound more irritated than I meant to.
“I knew I knew you.” He leans in to press his mouth to my ear and whispers, “You lied to me, Peach.” When he leans back again, his eyes are dark and his expression is unreadable.
“I . . . I’m sorry.”
He slowly shakes his head. “Another lie.”
I stare down at the ground. He’s right, and he has me so damn flustered. Adam’s finger lifts my chin so that I’ll look up at him. “Why didn’t you come backstage that night?”
“I was a mess.”
“I wanted to see you again.”
I want to tell him I’m sorry for the millionth time, but I manage to stay quiet.
Adam’s hand cups the side of my neck, his thumb caressing the soft skin beneath my ear. “You come along on this trip with me . . . and you haven’t even let me kiss you.”
My breath catches in my throat. I . . . what am I supposed to say to that?
His body envelopes me, pressing my back tighter against the wall, shutting everything else out. I can feel how much he wants me. He leans down, agonizingly close to my lips. “Now that I know who you are, will you let me kiss you?”
I nervously shake my head from side to side.
He leans in a little closer, our noses brushing. “Why?” He’s so close, I can feel his breath on my lips.
“I . . . I just . . .”
Before I can finish or even figure out what I want to say, Adam’s lips surge forward to claim mine. In one controlled movement, he closes the distance between us and sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. He presses his hips into me, and a breathless moan escapes my throat when I feel him, all of him. I want him to pick me up. I want him to wrap my legs around his waist and pin me to this wall so I can have him where I really want him. I don’t think—I just kiss him back. I kiss him so desperately that there’s no disguising how much I’ve wanted him.