“You’d sacrifice your girlfriend for your own good?”
“Yes,” Tate answered.
Adam shone the light in Tate’s face, then motioned down the hall. “You’re caught. Do me a favor and find your way back.”
“No,” Tate argued. “You have to escort your captures or they don’t count. Rules are rules.”
“I’m busy.”
“Do I look like I care?” Tate stumbled and shook his head. “You bring me back, or I wasn’t caught.”
Adam looked at me, scowling, then sighed and stepped away. “You’re an asshole,” he told Tate.
“I know.”
We walked back to base, but Adam didn’t grab my hand again. He was quiet, emotionless. Once we reached base, Tate beelined to the middle of the room.
“Round’s up,” he said. “Tell anyone still out, they’re safe.”
“He’s a sore loser,” Adam said.
“You’re a dick,” Tate replied. He waited until everyone was back at base, then addressed our team. “You have fifteen minutes to hide.” His brown eyes focused on Adam. “And you’d better run. I’m coming for you.”
“Good luck.”
All flashlights were switched off, and Adam pulled me through the room in the dark. He was quick around objects and people, but I didn’t know the space like he did. I knocked into something with an edge and clutched my leg.
“Ouch,” I hissed. “That was my femur!”
“Hush or you can’t hide with me” was his sympathetic reply.
We stepped into the hall where Tate was caught, and I turned on the flashlight. My eyes searched for the space where Adam and I had stood. It was a dangerous moment and one I hadn’t anticipated, but that didn’t lessen my nerves. It didn’t change that I was attracted to him more than I wanted to be, and it didn’t keep me from thinking about what would’ve happened had Tate hidden somewhere else.
“Come on,” Adam said.
He hurried across the concrete, and we ducked into a room with a massive steel door. Something sticky clung to my face, and I backtracked as a fleet of spiders came into view. They were my biggest fear, and we’d stepped into their den.
“It’s on me!” I screamed.
My pulse raced, and my screams morphed into panicked breaths that hung in my throat. The world spun as spiders crawled along their webs, curling me in a cocoon of fear that wanted to devour me whole. My head was spinning, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling and watch spiders crawl above my head. I was frozen with no way out.
“Claire?”
Adam’s voice was distant, only a murmur compared with the beating of my heart.
“Claire?” he repeated.
An arm wrapped around my shoulder and forced me from my spot. Pulled from my state of terror, I screamed again.
“Hold on,” Adam said, hurrying through the room.
He paused in front of another steel door and pushed it open with his hip. When we crossed the threshold and I was sure we were safe, I barreled over and tried to control my breathing. Adam stopped beside me.
“I didn’t realize you were afraid of spiders.”
“Surprise,” I choked out.
I surveyed the room, breathing in the thick smell of must as I tried to calm myself. Large objects were everywhere, separated by boxes and covered in dust. One of those objects was a boat like the one we’d used at the lake. Adam walked to it, his footsteps level with his voice.
“This is our hiding spot,” he said. “You’ll get inside, and I’ll stay on the ground. If someone comes in, I’ll distract them so you can stay hidden.”
I shook my head. “Under no circumstances will I be alone in this building. If I’m getting in the boat, you’re getting in the boat. Take it or leave it.”
“It’s better if I stay on the ground,” he said.
“Take it or leave it,” I repeated.
He sighed and grabbed my waist, hoisting me upward. I scanned for spiderwebs before my hands wrapped around the metal siding. Adam followed quickly behind.
“Lie down,” he said. “They’ll see us if you’re sitting up.”
“Quit being demanding.”
“You ordered me up here. You’re the one who’s demanding.”
I did what he asked while he walked to the back of the boat. A tarp was slung across one of the seats, covered with boxes and discarded toys. He tried to retrieve it, but junk fell to the ground and clanged against the concrete.
“Shit,” he hissed.
“It’s a sign. Leave it alone.”
“We’ll get caught,” he argued. “We need a backup plan, in case they decide to check here.”
“That tarp isn’t touching me, so you might as well leave it where you found it.”
Stone-faced, he stared at me. I mirrored the look.
“Fine,” he said, releasing the tarp and returning to the bow, “but you’re the worst hiding partner ever. You’re scared of spiders, you talk too loud, and you refuse to do anything I ask.”
“Then maybe you should’ve hidden with another girl,” I replied. “Word has it you’ve hooked up with at least one person at this party. She’s probably more tolerant than me.”
Adam’s eyes widened, and I cursed myself up and down for my lack of a filter. This was the slippery slope I’d tried to avoid.
“Which girl are you talking about?” he asked.
“How many girls have there been?”
Metal creaked from the other room, and footsteps followed the noise. I dropped to the bottom of the boat, and Adam dropped beside me, his body flush with my back as I begged the universe to send them away.
“Someone’s been in here,” a guy said.
“How can you tell?” a girl replied.
“They knocked over a bunch of junk.”
Adam’s breath grew staggered behind me, so I nudged him with my elbow to get him to hush. He squeezed my side in response.
“You check there,” the girl instructed. “I’ll look here.”
Flashlight beams ricocheted off the room’s metal siding, and created eerie shadows as they searched the room. They stayed for what felt like an eternity, but eventually the beams began to fade.
Once the shadows were gone, Adam poked me in the side and leaned closer. His stubble brushed my cheek as he whispered, “We need to reach base before they get back. Ready to go?”
“Go?” I murmured.
He didn’t answer. He sat up, peered over the boat, and signaled for me to move. He was first over the side, landing on the floor with the smallest squeak of rubber hitting concrete.
“There he is!” a girl yelled in the dark.
Footsteps quickened, and I flattened against the boat’s floor as Adam ran from the seekers. Within seconds, a metal door slammed and the room fell quiet.
I lay there in the dark, waiting for Adam to come back. When I heard nothing but small scurries and mouse squeaks, I decided that wouldn’t be anytime soon.
My hand found the boat’s siding, and I stumbled over the edge. When I reached the floor, I tried to find an exit. There was no way I’d go back through the spider den, so I hoped for another route out.
I was halfway through my search when a hand wrapped around my bicep and yanked me backward. I swung a fist. I missed, so I swung again.
“Stop!” Adam yelled. “It’s me. Geez.” A flashlight flickered between us, and he shot me narrowed eyes. “We need to work on you having a reaction other than punching.”
“Why are you here?” I replied, dropping my hand. “You’re supposed to be at base.”
“You told me not to leave you, so I came back. I didn’t think you’d leave the boat.” He rubbed the shoulder where my hand made contact, then shined the flashlight on a set of double doors at the back of the room. “That’s the other way out,” he said. “We could go through the first room, but I don’t think you would.”
“The one with spiders? No.”
He nodded and was silent as he unhitched the door.
When we got outside, he was still quiet, but it was different from before. His jaw was clenched, his posture rigid, and he kept his eyes anywhere but on me. Something was wrong.
He relatched the door and started to walk away. He got a good ten feet from me before I decided I was done.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, following him.
“None of your business.”
“You mad we got found?”
“No.”
“Oh, so your attitude is something you come by naturally?”
“You know what?” he answered, spinning. “You’re my problem. You and your constant pissing me off.”
“What did I do this time?” I asked, stopping in my tracks. “Because it’s always something. There’s never a happy medium. You’re always pissed off about something.”
“I’m not always pissed off,” he answered. “Am I now? Yeah. I’m really pissed. I’m mad about what you said in the boat.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing already where this was headed. “Was I wrong?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“No,” he replied. “It was probably the truth.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“You throwing it in my face.” He shook his head, glaring at me. “Let me be clear, Collins. Who I have and haven’t hooked up with has nothing to do with you. It happened, and I own it, but just because someone ran their mouth doesn’t mean you have permission to judge me. You don’t have that right. You don’t even know me.”
“I wasn’t judging you,” I said, “and you’re right, I don’t know you. I don’t know anything but your reputation. Which, I’ve heard, is spot-on. Congrats!”
“What is that?!” he asked, glaring.
“It’s me congratulating you,” I answered.
“It’s you making passive-aggressive remarks you know are going to make me mad.”
“If you knew, why did you ask?”
He moved toward me, his lips pulled into a thin line. “You’re the most irritating person I’ve ever met! It’s like you need validation on who I want to be around. If that’s what this is, okay. Here’s your validation. I like you, Claire. You’re a pain in my ass, but I like you anyway. It makes no sense, but it is what it is.”
“You have a really crappy way of showing it,” I answered.
“Because I don’t want to,” he said. “We agreed to keep it simple, and we agreed for a reason. That didn’t mean I didn’t like you. It didn’t mean I was interested in someone else. It was my attempt to keep this from getting complicated, but I can’t do that if we aren’t on the same page.” He raked a hand through his messy hair, his gaze unwavering. “You screw with my head, Claire. I’m supposed to be focused on a million other things, but I can’t do that because you’re always around pushing my buttons and pissing me off.”
“That’s how I am. Sorry, but I’m not changing.”
“I don’t want you to change. That’s the problem.” He was in front of me now, staring at me eye to eye with such confliction that I could feel it, too.
“And what am I supposed to do with that?” I asked.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he answered. “You’re witty and sarcastic and beautiful, and you don’t put up with my crap, and I don’t know how to deal with it. That’s on me. It isn’t your problem.”
“It is my problem,” I said, “because the last thing I need is another football player breaking my heart. This”—I waved my hand between us—“I’ve done this. I know what it feels like when it ends. I can’t handle it again.”
“I’m trying not to break your heart.”
“Then don’t.”
Adam rested his forehead against mine, and we stood like that for a minute—two people torn between want and need.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his arms encircling my waist, “because I feel like I’m stuck between what’s right and what isn’t.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
His mouth grazed mine, and I paused. We stood at a crossroads, where one wrong thing had the potential to wreck everything, but there was no use denying it now. Not with Adam. Not when I felt the same. I pulled him back and kissed him again.
11
Trips
“Hey, hun. How was Riley’s?”
I dropped my bag beside the door and crossed the living room. It was Saturday. My mom was sprawled on the couch with the cooking channel blaring on the screen and a notepad on her lap. The notepad meant she was trying a new recipe. If we were lucky, she’d forget she wrote it down.
“It was fine,” I answered, taking a seat in my dad’s recliner. “Dad at the field house?”
“Yeah. He and Case left earlier,” she said. “Think they left pancakes on the stove, if you’re hungry.”
“I’m good.”
I glanced at the television, but my mom paused it. She tossed the notepad beside the remote, then shifted so she was facing me.
“Spoke to your dad last night,” she said, smiling. “I’ve been trying not to call you until you got home, but we found a solution.”
“A solution for what?” I asked, arching a brow.
“The Baker Heights trip,” she answered. “We can go in three weeks. We’ll make it a girls’ trip.”
My heart quickened, and I immediately looked at the bracelet wrapped around my wrist. I begged for this trip, paid my dues to get this trip, but I wasn’t excited. I should’ve been excited.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile.
“You’re welcome.”
She relaxed into the cushions and resumed the television. I stayed there with her, absently watching the rest of the cooking show while I tried to convince myself that I was excited. I couldn’t do it.
“Mom,” I said as she finished jotting the recipe.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t get mad, but I don’t know if I want to go anymore.” Her attention darted upward. “I’ve been trying to get over the move,” I continued, fidgeting with my bracelet, “and I’ve been trying to get over Seth. I feel like I’m getting to a place where I can do that. I’m moving on. Visiting Baker Heights would be three steps backward, right?”
She sat there a minute, her eyes on me. The last time I got this look was when I told her I wanted go blond. She looked cautious, filled with things she wanted to say but worried about my reaction.
“What?” I asked, grabbing a throw pillow. “You think it would be better if I went?”
“No,” she answered. “I think you’re making the right choice. Baker Heights is in the past, and you need to keep moving forward, but this doesn’t change that I owe you a trip. A deal is a deal, and you’ve kept your side of the bargain. If you don’t want to go, we’ll find another option. I think I might already have one.”
“Really?”
She nodded and grabbed her phone from the end table. Two seconds later, she had it to her ear. “Mark,” she said, addressing my dad.
I stared at her, brow furrowed.
“Think you can get another ticket for that trip?” she continued. I could hear my dad’s muffled voice on the other end of the line. I couldn’t hear his response, but a slow smile spread across her face. “Great. Yeah, it’s for her. No. No. We’ll talk about it later. ’Kay. Love you, too.”
“So, where am I going?” I asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she replied.
“Mom!”
“That’s my name,” she answered.
She went back to her shows, and I spent the next two hours trying to drag the info out of her. By the time my dad and Case got home, I’d expended all options and was sulking in the kitchen.
“What’s for lunch?” my dad asked. He glanced at my freshly baked pizza rolls and stole one. “Shit!” he exclaimed, spitting it back on the tray. “Those are hot!”
“Mark! Language.”
“What I meant was, Oh my heavens, these pizza rolls are scorching,” he said, smiling at my mom. She whacked
him on the shoulder with her notepad, and he laughed. “What?” he said. “My language was fine that time.”
“You don’t have to be a smart-ass about it.”
He kissed her on the cheek and maneuvered around the island. One look at dinner prep, and he cringed. “Looks delicious,” he lied.
In reality it looked disgusting. She claimed it was sauce for chicken spaghetti. I had my doubts.
“Did you get the goods?” she asked, looking at him.
“Yes. Why? We doing that now?”
“Now, later, either way is fine with me,” she replied.
“Adam’s here!” Case hollered, grabbing a pizza roll as he stepped into the kitchen. He popped it in his mouth before I could tell him dad had it first. Only Case would eat an already munched-on pizza roll and not even notice. “Hi, Mrs. Collins,” Adam said. “Sorry to barge in.”
“It’s not barging in if I told you to swing by,” my dad answered. He headed to the hall. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab that stuff.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adam’s eyes flickered to me, and I adjusted my ponytail. Why hadn’t I showered instead of nagging my mom all morning?
He stopped beside me and leaned against the counter. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied.
The corners of his mouth tilted upward, and my mom cleared her throat. When I looked at her, she was staring.
“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner,” she said, addressing Adam. “We’re having chicken spaghetti. I’d love to have more taste testers.”
“Don’t,” Case hissed. “You’ll never make it out alive.”
“You haven’t even tried it, Case Michael.”
“Wow, breaking out the middle name,” I said, grinning.
“You want in on this, Claire Elizabeth?”
“Nope. All I want is my pizza rolls.” I turned, ignoring the pair as they bickered over my mom’s chicken spaghetti.
Adam watched their back and forth, then took the pizza roll I handed him. “I like them. They’re funny.”
“Try living with them,” I said.
My dad reentered the kitchen and hesitated in the doorway. “What happened? What did I miss?” he asked.
“Mom’s spaghetti,” I replied. “Case made the mistake of voicing all our concerns.”
Surviving Adam Meade Page 10