by Claire Adams
And then finally, there was the crest, and slowly, the intensity began to ebb. It was sped up when the water suddenly went cold. I let out a yelp, and she shrieked as we both scrambled to shut the water off, the cold drops feeling like needles against our hypersensitive skin.
“How long were we in here for?” Tessa asked. “I can barely even stand. Oh my God.”
We gingerly got out of the shower, and I wrapped her in a towel, and then I did the same for myself.
“Probably quite a long time,” I said. “Seeing as we used up all the hot water.”
She grinned. “I hope no one else in this building was planning on taking a shower anytime soon. Shit, I actually feel kind of bad.”
“Don’t feel bad.” I kissed her. My whole body was still buzzing. “Do you know what I feel like doing right now?”
“What?”
“It’s really the only thing I think I’d be capable of doing, actually.”
“And what is that?”
“Going to bed.”
“Bed? It’s like 9 o’clock in the morning!”
“I know. I’m not saying I’d go back to sleep or anything like that, but I don’t think I’ll be physically capable of doing anything for at least a couple of hours.”
She patted at her face with a corner of the towel. “My legs really do feel like Jell-O.”
“Let’s do it, then. School’s out. We don’t have anywhere we need to be. I’m not saying we have to stay in bed all day, though if we do, I certainly won’t be complaining.”
I didn’t wait for her to respond; instead, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. I couldn’t remember a time when my bed had looked more appealing.
We lay down next to each other, the cool sheet on top of us. Tessa snuggled up next to me, and I kissed the top of her head, her hair still damp. I had said I wasn’t going to fall asleep, but I could feel myself starting to drift off into some sort of half-awake zone, and I certainly wasn’t going to fight it.
“You know,” Tessa said, “I’m really glad that I took you up on that offer.”
“I’m really glad that I made you that offer. I almost didn’t. And when I did, I didn’t think that you were actually going to do it.”
“I know that school’s out now and everything, but I want to keep seeing you.”
“I’d be pissed if you didn’t. I’d feel used, actually.”
She laughed. “Would you? I thought I was the one who was supposed to be the sex toy.”
“You are definitely so much more than that. Of course I want to keep seeing you. You’re living here now, aren’t you? That doesn’t have to change just because school’s out. The only thing that I think I’d like to see change is for you to go from being my student to my girlfriend. How does that sound?”
She snuggled closer to me, draping her arm across my chest. “I think that sounds lovely,” she said.
“Good.” I hadn’t been planning on saying that, on asking her if she wanted to be my girlfriend, but it seemed like the natural progression of things. She was going to keep living here, and we were going to keep having amazing sex, so of course she should be my girlfriend. I wanted that, and I was glad that she did, too.
We both must have drifted off to sleep, a little bit, anyway, because the next thing I knew I could hear a phone ringing. For a second, I thought it was part of the very lucid dream I was having, but then I felt Tessa stirring next to me. I opened my eyes as Tessa was groping for her phone on the bedside table.
“It’s my dad,” she said blearily, looking at the screen. “I should probably answer this.”
She sat up, the sheet sliding off her, her bare shoulder exposed. “Hello?” she said tentatively.
I lay back and let myself doze, half-listening to Tessa’s side of the conversation.
“Thanks,” she was saying. “Yeah. It was a lot of hard work. But I’m happy with all the grades I got, too.”
There was a long pause.
“Um . . . well, sure,” she said, sounding surprised. “If that’s something you want to do. Tonight? Uh, yeah, I think we could . . . hold on one second.” She brought the phone down, and I pried one eye open and looked at her.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Soooo . . . my parents are coming to the city this afternoon to see some friends, and then they want to take us out to dinner.”
“Us? As in the two of us?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Is tonight okay? Are you cool with that?”
“Sure,” I said. It was probably a good sign, an extending of the olive branch, if her father was calling, wanting to take us both out to dinner.
But when Tessa got off the phone, I could tell she was anxious about meeting up with her parents tonight. She tried to lay back next to me but her leg started fidgeting and then she started chewing on her cuticles, and finally she wriggled out from my arms and got up.
“Are you freaking out?” I asked. “Because it kind of seems like you’re freaking out. You look hot, but I don’t want you to be stressed about this. It’ll be fine.”
She was wrestling with her T-shirt, which had gotten twisted and turned half inside out. “Of course I’m freaking out,” she said. “My dad calling like that was probably the last thing I ever expected. And him wanting to take us out to dinner is . . . I don’t know, kind of weird, don’t you think?” She yanked the T-shirt over her head.
“It might be a good sign,” I said. “It’s not like he called and is wanting to meet just me down some dark alley or something. I think enough time has probably gone by that your father realizes how much he misses you, and now that school is out and he’s seen you’ve managed to keep your grades up, he’s probably going to apologize for being so hard on you. That’s what I think.”
She tried to force a smile. “I hope you’re right, then.”
All right, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit nervous about the dinner. I was never that interested in doing the whole meeting of the parents thing, but if things went well tonight, I knew it could go a long way in repairing Tessa’s relationship with her mom and dad.
We met them at Sunset, which was a nice, bistro-type place, though not too over the top. They were waiting out front for us.
“Nice to meet you,” Tessa’s dad said, firmly shaking my hand.
“Likewise,” I said. There was an awkward silence.
“Great,” Tessa’s mother said, clapping her hands together. “Why don’t we go inside. This is one of my favorite places.”
Inside, the hostess led us into the dining room, and we were seated at a linen-covered table. Tessa sat to my right; her father was directly across from me. Wine was immediately ordered, and when our waitress brought the bread basket over, Tessa snatched a roll out and started pulling it apart.
I reached underneath the table and put my hand on her leg, not to be frisky but to help try to calm her down.
“I’m glad the two of you were able to come out with us tonight,” her father said, after the waitress returned with the wine. He took a sip and then looked at Tessa. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked, and I’ve certainly missed that.”
Tessa nodded. “Me too, Dad,” she said.
He turned to me. “And you, Leo. I originally wanted this dinner to just be with Tessa, but seeing as you seem to be a part of her life now, I wanted to meet you as well. I might not necessarily approve of the way you two first got together, but since you are a part of Tessa’s life, I’m not just going to pretend you don’t exist.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “I really do. And while our relationship might not have started out the most orthodox way, I want you both to know how much I care about Tessa.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” her father said. He looked at her. “I might not approve of the way you do everything,” he continued, “but that’s normal. Your mother and I were both very pleased that you managed to get your grades back up and we hope that you’ll keep them that way, not because we want you to
, but because you want to do it for yourself, to give yourself the best possibilities when you graduate.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Tessa said. “I want that, too.”
The rest of dinner went by smoothly, probably helped by the fact that we killed two bottles of wine, but I think everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. And when we were standing back outside again, Tessa’s dad shook my hand, and this time, he smiled and clapped me on the back.
“Do you golf?” he asked.
“Badly,” I said.
“Well. We’ll have to get you out on the course sometime, if you’d like.”
“I think that sounds like a lovely idea!” Tessa’s mother said. She hugged Tessa, and then came over and hugged me. She was a little tipsy, I could tell. “I’m so glad we were able to all get together and enjoy a meal like civilized people! I just had a good feeling about tonight.”
“I love you guys,” Tessa said, giving her dad a hug. They said goodbye once more and then started to walk down the block toward their car. We watched them go, waving when they finally took off.
“I’d say that went pretty well,” I said as their taillights disappeared around the corner.
Tessa had a smile on her face. “It did,” she said. “It went way better than I thought it was going to. I’m actually really surprised. Though the fact that my mom is a little buzzed probably helped.”
“Your dad’s not a bad guy. I can tell that.”
“He’s not. And he wants to take you golfing. Definitely a good sign. Though don’t feel like you have to go or anything. I’m not sure how you feel about golf.”
“Eh . . . it’s a little . . . boring. But I could probably manage for a day.”
“We should do something,” she said.
“Right now?”
She shrugged. “Not right now—I mean, we should go do something different. Get out of the city for a while. See somewhere new.”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t mind that. We could take a road trip up north or something. No real destination in mind—just a map and our suitcases.”
She put her arms around my neck and looked up at me. “I would love to,” she said.
I smiled and leaned down to kiss her, excited for whatever adventures lay in store for us.
Epilogue
Tessa
“Tessa, it was so good to see you again.” Leo’s brother, Aaron, gave me a hug. I hugged him back, and then I watched as he and Leo slapped fives, then hugged, clapping each other on the back, the way guys do. “So glad you guys were able to come out here for so long this time,” Aaron said. “The two of you.”
“Glad we could, too,” Leo said. He draped an arm over my shoulders. I looked over and smiled at him.
It’d been a year since I graduated college, and Leo and I had spent most of that time traveling. Leo had started working for Xhilerator, a new digital and print magazine that focused on extreme sports, and the first article he did was a feature about his brother, who would most likely be representing the United States in the 2020 Olympics. It would be the first time skateboarding would be an Olympic sport.
Now, Aaron was dropping us at Charles de Gaulle Airport, after we had spent a month in Paris, and we were heading back to the United States. We’d come out to visit him the summer of my senior year, but we’d only stayed for a week; I knew that once I was done with school I wanted to come back for longer. Leo had sublet his apartment while we were gone and the couple who had been staying there moved on this past weekend. We’d stay there for the time being until we decided where the next place was we wanted to go. The main reason we were going back, though? His friend Jack was getting married up in Sonoma, to Colette, whom Leo had previously gone out with.
After we said one final goodbye to Aaron, we checked our bags and made our way through the terminal.
“You ready to be back in the States for a while?” Leo asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. I’d been enjoying our time traveling, but there was a part of me that was eager to get back and know that we were going to stay in one place for a while. I’d been writing articles for a few different well-known blogs, and I’d just gotten word that a column idea I had pitched to the Huffington Post had been accepted. While living out of a suitcase and getting to see all these new places that I’d never been to before had been exhilarating, I was eager to get back to my own bed—which was also Leo’s bed—to wake up to the same sights each morning. I might get bored with it after a while, but right now, that was pretty much all I wanted.
Leo and I had a window seat and a middle seat, but when we boarded the plane, whoever was supposed to be sitting in the aisle seat hadn’t shown up.
“There’s not as many people on here as I was expecting,” I said as we took our seats. The flight over, every single seat had been filled. On this one, I could see at least half a dozen empty seats.
“Lucky for us,” Leo said. “Though don’t be surprised if they find someone to fill it with. You can have the window seat.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s all yours.”
But no one came to take the aisle seat, and then they made the final boarding call, and they closed the cabin door. I buckled my seat belt as I listened to the flight attendant give the in-flight safety talk, first in French, then in English.
Leo reached over and took my hand as the plane got ready for takeoff. I liked to watch out the window as the ground rushed by, and then got further and further away, my ears popping and my stomach doing a little flip as we became airborne.
Once we reached cruising altitude and the seatbelt sign came off, I reclined my chair and closed my eyes. Only maybe a minute had passed when I felt Leo’s mouth next to my ear.
“You a part of the mile-high club?” he whispered.
“No,” I said.
“You want to change that?”
I smiled. “Is that an option?”
“Of course it is.” He turned around and looked toward the back of the plane. “I’m going to go into the bathroom now. Wait a minute and then come back. I’ll use the one on the left.” He winked at me as he got up and made his way down the aisle.
I looked out the tiny window, and below me I saw the tops of white, fluffy clouds, the blue horizon seeming to stretch on forever. I was excited to be heading back the States, to get to see my parents, meet up with Lindsey again, go up to Sonoma for Leo’s friend’s wedding.
But first: I was going to make my way to the back of the plane and see about joining the mile-high club.
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ADDICTED
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Nate
I rolled the window of my car down, letting some fresh air in. The planes above looked really big taking off and landing. You sort of forgot how freaking huge they were when they were flying above you.
My assistant told me that the flight was at eight in the morning. I'd been sitting in my car about ten minutes, watching the sun start to rise over LAX, wishing I'd got a later flight. It was six thirty in the goddamn morning; the only other time I was awake that early was when I'd been up the entire night and hadn't gotten to sleep yet.
What was I even doing here? I could have asked Dad to use his plane. I was Nate Stone; I didn't have to fly commercial.
I shut my eyes and leaned back against the driver's seat. In ten hours, I wouldn't have to think about this place for
another three months. I'd be in a fucking suite with a hula dancer sucking me off. I'd be eating seafood and drinking rum. I'd be too far away for any of the assholes in LA to get to me.
I watched a plane take off and fly into the distance, until I couldn't see it anymore. In two hours, that would be me. I just had to last ’til my flight. I'd checked in online already, and I was flying first class. Just two hours, man, I said to myself. This vacation was way overdue. I knew it was over when I tried to write a song the other day and got nothing.
Nothing. Not a word. The band didn't use my songs anymore, but fuck it, I did. The touring, the booze, the girls — it had done something. It had finally caught up with me. Yeah. That was it. Because there wasn't any fucking dope and booze in Hawai’i. I’d be fine if I just got away from it.
I checked the time again. Five minutes had passed. Fuck. Could I fall asleep? Go inside? Eat? Something? Anything other than just sit here and wait?
My phone was ringing. Still ringing. I'd ignored a phone call twice already. I didn't know who the fuck was trying so hard, but I was pretty sure you were meant to stop trying when it was obvious the person you were calling didn't want to talk to you.
Fuck, what if it was important, though? What if it was my manager? Or Dad?
The ringing stopped as soon as I reached for the phone to check who I'd been blowing off. I grimaced reading the name. Not my manager Doug. Not my father. Nope. It was Kirsten. I had her name on there as Kiki because that was what I'd called her when we were together, and I'd just never gotten around to changing it to something else.