Adam entered with the bell. I heard his voice as he ascended the steps, but I couldn’t look at him. He dropped a folded piece of notebook paper beside my book. My name was scrawled across the top in slanted letters. I avoided it like the plague. Who knew what horrible things he’d put inside?
When the bell rang, I stood. Adam’s exaggerated sigh came from behind me as he hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, closed the distance, and stopped beside my table. His jaw was tight as he pulled the paper from the desk, unfolded it, and pointed at the words.
“I’m sorry,” he read, lifting his gaze. “I didn’t mean to take it that far.”
“Thanks,” I answered, busying myself with my backpack. It was an apology, but a forced one.
“So, we’re good?” he asked.
“What do you think?” I slid the backpack over my shoulder and pushed in my chair. Adam blocked my path. “Can I go now?” I continued with a frown. “I’ve got another class. I can’t get there if you don’t move.”
“We didn’t get off on the best foot,” he answered.
“No, we didn’t,” I agreed. “The first time you met me, you ordered me to bring you ice. The last time I checked, that isn’t the best way to introduce yourself.”
“I didn’t order you,” he defended. “I asked in my own special way.”
“You ordered.”
He moved and descended the stairs behind me. “It was a small request, on a hot day, and I was already tired,” he explained. “Sorry if I didn’t add a ‘please’ to the end.”
“‘Please’ would’ve made you less of a jerk. Next time, add it.”
His left cheek dimpled. “Noted.”
He followed me into the hall, thick crowds of students parting for him like they’d burn at his touch. When I found my locker a minute later, he was still by my side.
“If you think stalking is a good way to apologize, you’re wrong.” I hung my backpack on the hook and unzipped it. “It’s creepy and desperate.”
“Oh?” He took a step back, his hands outstretched in front of him. “Well, I guess I’ll take my creepy and desperate self over there.”
“You and yourself have fun.”
“Trust me, we will.”
He winked and sauntered across the tile, girls watching him as he walked. Why were the hot ones always evil? It was like the universe needed their personality to be ugly so it balanced out their handsome exterior.
I was still stewing on that question when I got home. Thankfully, the gorgeous bachelor on TV disproved my theory. He was one part adventurous, one part emotional, one part honest, and one part rugged stud. It was a vast improvement from what Pader High had to offer.
Nestled on the couch in my pajamas, I crammed a handful of popcorn in my mouth and swooned. Movement on the porch drew my attention. Case pushed his way in, interrupting the rose ceremony halfway through one girl’s meltdown.
“Wow, sis, you look hideous.”
“Wow, Case, you smell like ass.” My nose crinkled, and I stared at the television. “They make these things called showers. I’m sure there’s a few in the field house. You should use them.”
“Fine, no present for you,” he answered, rounding the couch with a Sonic cup in his hand.
I smiled and greedily outstretched my hand. “You don’t even know how bad I need a limeade. Thanks, Case.”
He took a sip, dashing my hopes and dreams. “My limeade, not yours. The present is your math binder. You left it in Dad’s office. Adam said you had homework, so I grabbed it on our way out.”
“Adam is the root of all evil.”
“Most girls think I’m the opposite. Nice to have a fresh point of view,” Adam said as he walked through the front door, hauling a box. He dropped it on the wood and brushed his hands against dark jeans. “By the way, there’s an overly aggressive squirrel on your front porch. I thought those things were day creatures, but this one tried to claw my face off!”
“Meeko is a good judge of character,” I replied.
“Claire named the squirrel,” Case added, looking at Adam. “It’s a weird thing she does. Just go with it.”
“Okay,” Adam answered, drawing out the word. “Name the tree, too?”
I pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and tugged it over my head. If I pretended not to exist, maybe he’d leave me alone. The blanket was immediately tugged off, replaced with Adam’s face. So much for my peaceful night with the nation’s most tantalizing bachelor.
“Is there something you need?” I asked. “I assume you gave Case a ride home. Thanks. He’s home now. You can leave.”
“Adam’s staying for dinner,” Case said.
My face paled as I stared at my brother. “Adam’s not staying for dinner,” I replied. “Adam has a perfectly delicious dinner waiting at his own house. Don’t you, Adam?”
“My grandma’s out tonight. My schedule is wide open.”
My eyes narrowed. If this was their idea of a prank, their sense of humor sucked.
“Really, why are you here?” I asked, staring at him.
“Dinner,” he replied. “Ran into your mom outside the field house. She was carrying a box—”
“Window decals for the team,” Case interjected.
“—and I helped her,” Adam said. “In return, your dad invited me to dinner. Wanted to talk about football scholarships, anyway. He has scouts calling. Who was I to turn him down?”
I groaned and stood, pulling the blanket around my shoulders as I marched toward the stairs. My dad and I would be having an enlightening conversation after the meal. He needed to know the boundaries between football and Claire’s personal space.
“Also,” Adam added as I reached the stairs, “your dad mentioned steaks on the menu. Wasn’t aware you ate steak.”
“It’s her favorite,” Case commented, stealing a handful of my popcorn. “Every time Dad grills, Claire is first in line. She’ll finish off two, easy.”
Adam cocked his head to the side and my cheeks heated. “Really? That’s interesting,” he answered. “Tell me, are you a rare, medium-well, or well-done kind of girl?”
I scowled at Adam over the rail. “I hate you.”
“Get in line.”
* * *
As fate would have it, not only was Adam a huge suck-up when he needed to be, but he was also a great liar. Mom was tonight’s griller. He ate my mom’s steak without gagging once. That was a feat by all standards, given that my mom charbroiled all steaks until they were almost inedible.
“Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Collins.”
Adam stood and pushed in his chair while my mom watched with an adoring look she never gave me.
I mimicked the movement and followed him to our kitchen. My dad stood inside, leaning against the marble counter while gnawing on a burnt crescent roll.
“Heard from the scouts today,” he said, addressing Adam as we put our plates in the sink. “They’re coming to the game on Friday, and they want to see how you run the ball. We’ll discuss it more tomorrow, but I wanted to keep you in the loop.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Coach.” Adam’s gaze flitted to me, and he withdrew his keys from his pocket. He looked hesitant, but he cleared his throat and wiped the emotion from his face. “I need to get going. Thank you for the meal. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” my dad answered.
He grabbed a dish from my mom as she entered behind us. I took that as the prime moment to nudge Adam away from them. It was no easy feat considering his size and ability to withstand the force of my biceps. Thankfully, though, he gave up resisting and let me push him out the door.
“Okay!” I said. “Have a good night.”
“Walk me to the truck.”
“Um, no.”
I moved to shut the door, but he caught it. “Walk me to the truck,” he repeated.
“Why? Want to berate me more?”
“I already apologized,” he answered, heading down the sidewalk. His truck window
s were clear of polish, and the driver’s side gleamed once more. “Besides, you screwed up my stuff. I was allowed to be pissed.”
“Being pissed and crossing a line are two different things,” I said, trailing behind him.
Once we reached his truck, he turned and leaned his back against it. “Again, already apologized for what I said. Can’t do much more than that.”
“You could be nicer in general.”
“I’m not a nice guy. Think that’s a little out of the question.” Adam opened the door and slid inside. He cranked the truck, and the dull hum of classic rock played from the speakers, breaking through the quiet night. “Tell your parents thanks again for the dinner,” he said. “It was great. I had fun.”
“We both know family dinners aren’t fun,” I replied.
“Or maybe you don’t appreciate them,” he returned.
The comment struck me as he closed the door and pulled away from the curb. His taillights disappeared down another road, leaving me beneath the streetlight with nothing but dread settling in the pit of my stomach.
Adam was the epitome of annoying and the poster child for arrogant football player, but I seemed to be the only one who felt that way. Either I was missing something, or the problem lay with me.
5
Tales of Tofu
“She likes me. You can tell me she doesn’t, but my heart speaks the truth.”
“You’re delusional.”
Case glanced at a pair of girls as they passed. I slugged him on the shoulder to regain his attention.
“You’re delusional and hormonal,” I corrected.
“Don’t judge me. I’m the one with the cash.” He pulled a wallet from his back pocket and retrieved a pair of ten-dollar bills. “Before I give these to you,” he said, raising the money out of reach, “please tell me why you deserve an extra allowance when I’m the one who bought gas.”
“I get an extra allowance because I put up with you,” I replied. “My payment should be way more than twenty bucks.”
“You need to work on being more persuasive,” he answered. I attempted to grab the money, but Case shook his head. “I’ll give this to you, but I get the car next weekend,” he said. “No car. No money.”
“I can’t promise you the car. Mom and Dad haven’t told me when I can visit Baker Heights. I won’t make a deal I can’t keep.”
“It won’t be next weekend,” he answered. “The game is in town, and you’re supposed to be there. Remember?”
“Not participating in football activities. Shouldn’t matter either way.” I tried for the money again, but Case kept it out of reach. “Please give me the money,” I pleaded. “I’m asking you as nicely as possible.”
“Mow the lawn Saturday and you can have it.”
“I’m not bartering for money Mom and Dad already said I could have!”
“Then the money stays with me.” He crammed the tens in his pocket and shrugged.
I started to protest but caught myself. Maybe Case was onto something.
“Claire!” Riley’s ribbon-wrapped ponytail bounced as she passed computer science and stopped beside Case. “You riding with me to Big Sal’s? We can leave as soon as the pep rally is prepped for tomorrow.”
“I would,” I answered, “but I forgot my money at home.”
Case pulled the tens from his pocket and handed them over. “No problem. I have some money you can borrow.” He winked at Riley and pushed a hand through his dark hair. “What time will you be there? I might join.”
“You’re not invited,” I replied.
Case gawked at me as I moved toward government. The answer was rude, but the last thing I needed was him hitting on Riley in front of Tate. He wouldn’t live to see October.
I reached the government room right before the bell rang. Adam was already in his seat. He leaned across the table as I slid onto my chair.
“Look who decided to join us,” he said.
“It was a hard choice, but I figured someone had to put up with you.”
“Hey, your parents love me,” he answered.
I pulled my notebook from my backpack and turned in my seat. “What do you want? A billboard with your name on it?”
“A billboard would be cool,” he said, nodding, “but I’d prefer a personalized sign for tomorrow night’s game. I’m thinking block lettering and a little bit of glitter, with ‘Adam’s number one fan’ written on it. I’ll even sign it, if you want.”
“You’re something else. You know that?”
“Yep.”
The class monitor dimmed the light. Our government class was part of a long-distance learning program, given through a junior college. The professor lectured through a TV screen, but we were expected to keep notes and finish the assignments like every other college student.
Adam stood the minute class was dismissed. “Tell me,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “You ordering vegetarian tonight, or is your inner carnivore screaming for succulent beef?” I ignored him and finished jotting notes. “Earth to Claire,” he said. “C.C. phone home?”
“Do you come up with this material on your own, or do you pay someone to do it?” I shut my notebook and stood. “If you pay someone, ask for better material.”
“Funny.”
I went to my locker and twisted the combination lock. Adam stopped beside me, his arms crossed as he surveyed the inside. “Need something?” I asked, switching my government book for computer science.
“Nope.” He tilted his head for a better view, then poked an Auburn magnet stuck to the back of the door. “Tiger fan?”
“More than you know.” I slammed the locker, just missing his fingers. “Got to go. Mr. Acua hates tardies.”
“See you at Big Sal’s?”
“Yes. I’ll be the vegetarian in the corner booth.”
* * *
“I feel like I’m coming down with something.”
“Yeah, football fever.”
I scowled at my mom. “That’s the best you’ve got? Now I know where Case gets his humor.”
“My humor is amazing,” she said. “You’re just mad I’m funnier than you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
I leaned against the counter and glanced at the clock on the wall. My mom followed my gaze, tossed a pair of shears on the counter, and untied her apron.
“Why didn’t you tell me what time it was?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be there in five minutes.” She crossed the polished wood floors, flipped the lock on the front door, then turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. “Who’s going to be there?” she asked, pivoting. “Anyone named Adam?”
“Ugh. You’re too involved in my social life,” I groaned.
“I’m involved because I care.”
We entered the shop’s back room, where multihued flowers filled the shelves and their fragrance ran rampant. The iridescent lights flickered off, and my mom opened one of the large double doors. Warm afternoon air joined the already humid room.
“You’re lucky I’m the kind of mom who gets involved,” she continued. “I should have your undying gratitude.”
“You do. It’s hidden behind eternal embarrassment.”
I followed her to the white SUV. Behind its tinted windows, the black leather interior radiated heat. I was careful not to leave my bare legs flush against the seat too long. I would wear red marks on the back of my thighs for hours.
Country music played on the radio, but it was drowned out by the air conditioner I cranked to max speed.
“So,” my mom said as she backed out of the space, “seems like you and Riley are becoming quick friends. Happy to see you’re giving Pader a try.”
“That was the deal,” I answered. I shifted and glanced at her across the middle console. “Speaking of our deal, any news on when I can go to Baker Heights?”
“Right now, it’s looking like Thanksgiving,” she said.
I sighed and slumped against the leather. Leave it to my mom t
o crush my hopes and dreams.
“That’s forever,” I grumbled.
“Sorry.” The car hummed as she turned a corner and increased her speed. Vintage shops whizzed by in a blur of red brick, white signs, and cracked concrete. “I would let you go sooner,” she continued, “but football season is the busiest time of the year.”
“I don’t care about football. Football got me into this mess.”
“We’ve had this discussion,” she answered, her tone turning flat. “Your dad couldn’t turn down the offer. It was too good to—”
“Dad could’ve turned it down,” I interrupted, “but he chose not to.”
Her lips spread into a thin line, and I shifted my attention to my phone. Across the screen, a text from Seth appeared. My heart quickened, but my hopes fell at Do you have my calculator?
I moved a hand to my heart and willed away the ache settled there. The text was a far cry from the I miss you I sent him on the first day of school.
Thinking we’d get back together was ridiculous, but I held out hope. This was a punch to the gut. Seth didn’t want me. He wanted his calculator. How tragic could this get?
No, I answered.
The SUV slowed. The school parking lot held only a small group of students and a handful of cars. Clad in red, black, and white, Riley stood in the middle. Her hands were on her hips as she spoke with the students.
“I know that wasn’t the answer you wanted,” my mom said, putting the car in park, “but you’re the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You’re smiling again. You’re going out and doing things. I was so worried about you, and now that you’re moving on, I’m worried what going back will do. It’s selfish, but I don’t want to lose you again, hun. I just want you to be happy.”
My heart ached. I understood where she was coming from, but I could handle it. I could go back without letting Seth derail my happiness.
“I’ll be fine,” I answered. “I promise.”
“Then I’ll talk to your dad about moving up the trip.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
The sun was almost parallel with the school, but heat clung to the air as I got out of the car and shut the door. Riley met me and waved at my mom, who returned the gesture as she backed away from the gym.
Surviving Adam Meade Page 4