“But it just came out a couple of months ago.”
“You only heard it a couple of months ago. I wrote it several years ago, and we’d already performed it a thousand times before we recorded it. And nobody ever wants to hear new songs. So we’ll be playing that one until we die.”
He parked next to my apartment and walked me to my front door. Before I invited him in, I thought maybe I ought to fess up about the perfume. I slid the key in the lock and started, “Adam, I need—”
At the same moment, he said, “I know—”
We laughed, and I said, “You know what?”
He asked, “No, what were you going to say?”
“You first.”
“I was just going to say I know you have to be up early tomorrow.”
“You’re dropping me off?” A knot formed in my stomach. Of course he’d lost his attraction to me. Why hadn’t I doused myself in that perfume? I tried not to sound petulant. “I’d hoped you’d come in.”
Without waiting for a formal invitation, he leaned forward and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him, no longer interested in confessions or any other conversation, either. My weight pushed the door open, and we fell into my apartment. I tore at his jacket, and we were half naked by the time we reached the living room. The rest of our clothes hit the floor of the bedroom, and we lay down on my bed, a tangle of arms and legs and lips and skin.
I had a moment’s worry. “Um. Adam? Do you have a condom?”
“I do!” Then he sighed. “Wait here a second.”
I stifled a laugh. “We’re making steady improvements.”
Chapter 8
Only one of my wishes for my fantasy date had come true—the best one. But late night monkey sex with a rock star comes at a steep price when you have to be up at seven thirty. My alarm screeched what felt like minutes after I’d closed my eyes. I smacked the snooze and then tentatively rolled over, searching for a cool spot on the pillow.
A hand reached across my stomach and pulled me tight. My back pressed flat against Adam’s front. He gently kissed between my shoulder blades, with a soft “Mmm.”
I peeled an eye open. It was seven fifteen. “I have to get ready for work.”
“Can’t you call in sick?”
It was tempting. “I would, but I have to measure corticosterone levels today. Very exciting.”
“It’s so sexy when you talk chemistry.” His kisses roamed across my back while his hand explored everywhere else.
“Biology. They put me in charge of analyzing blood samples because I hate testing on the animals.”
He yawned. “Why do they need to test perfume on animals? Is it toxic?”
I’d forgotten I’d told him we made perfume, so I just laughed it off. “Yeah. Gotta fend off the FDA at the border.”
His hand had roamed farther south, and he traced a finger across the lowest part of my stomach, venturing into the bikini island. “You’re gonna have to fend me off at the border.”
I relaxed into him. “You are making this very difficult.”
“You can be late, right? Can’t you have car trouble?”
“In fact, my car has been acting very strange.” I was rewarded with his erection against the top of my thigh. I surprised him by turning and pushing him onto his back and then throwing a leg over him.
He reached his arms toward the headboard. “I’m all yours.”
“Um, Adam?” I bit my lip.
“Right.” He dug his hand under the pillow and produced the condom he’d preplanned, like a mint from the turndown service.
“Better.”
I straddled him and gazed down, memorizing the image of him in my bed in an agony of ecstasy. I knew this couldn’t possibly last, but at least I’d have this memory to keep me warm on cold nights. I laid my hands on his torso and rocked forward, turned on further by the groan that escaped him. Mine matched his when I rocked back, and he thrust to meet me. I tried to keep my eyes on him, but they involuntarily closed, and my head fell back as pleasure consumed my body.
And then my alarm went off again. Adam swung an arm out and knocked it hard against the wall, where it shattered, squawked once more, and went silent.
He winced. “Sorry.”
“I don’t care about the fucking clock,” I panted. I leaned down and ran my tongue along his lower lip, and he forgot about the clock, too.
We moved together in a rhythm, caught up in an irrepressible desire.
At last, I reached climax with a seismic wave, but I kept moving, watching him. I don’t know how I hadn’t seen how beautiful he was the minute I’d laid eyes on him. I’d thought he was cute, but his features were a masterpiece. I might have to buy a Tiger Beat magazine later and hang his posters on my wall.
He cried out and wrapped his hands around me to draw me down into a tight embrace. The gesture made me feel wanted and safe. For a moment in time, I didn’t worry about his celebrity or about my potential future heartbreak. He was just Adam, and I could lie in his arms forever.
After an eternity and no time at all, I broke contact with him and fell across the bed. “I have to get dressed. Can I get you some breakfast?” I grimaced. “I only have cereal or oatmeal. But I can make coffee.”
He rolled over. “It’s so early. You get up at this time every day?”
I gathered some clothes together and left to get a shower. When I came out, he’d set himself up in the kitchen. Eggs sizzled on a griddle, and coffee brewed.
“How do you not have bacon?” He moved the eggs onto a plate and placed it on the table.
I slid into the chair while he poured a cup of coffee. “I don’t usually eat breakfast.”
“What? But it’s the most important meal of the day. I eat breakfast for lunch and dinner, too, sometimes.” He settled in across from me, stifling a yawn. “But usually not for breakfast. Who gets up this early?”
Even though I hated scrambled eggs, it pleased me inordinately to share breakfast with him in my own apartment, and I ate every bite. “So what’s your schedule like? I can tell you mine in one sentence—I’ll be working every day.”
He walked over to his jacket and returned with his phone. He scrolled through to the calendar. “Dunno. Let me see if I’m supposed to be somewhere right now.”
I stood up and leaned over the table to get a look. “Jesus. How do you keep up with all that?”
“Jane. Our agent. She keeps our calendar online. So okay, today, I’m free until this evening. I have to go out to see another band we’re considering for an opening act.”
“Don’t bother. They suck.” My mom would’ve chastised me for talking with my mouth full. “Micah’s band is way better.”
“You wanna come with me? Oh, never mind. School night.”
I poked at his phone. “What about the rest of the week?”
“It looks like I have some interviews, and we start rehearsing for the European leg of the tour. And . . . Oh, shit.”
“What?” The words “European tour” echoed around inside my head and made me miss him before the fact.
“We have to fly to Atlanta Thursday for a show. Then we’ll drive back up Friday and Saturday for shows in Charlotte and DC.” He winced apologetically. “Sorry. I’m erratic.”
“Must be crazy.” I’d almost completely forgotten he was a big deal, sitting here having an innocuous breakfast with him. I finished eating and checked the time on the microwave. “You’re free to stay here, but I have to go. Uh, thanks for dinner and . . . uh . . . everything else.”
* * *
I strolled into work with a swagger nobody saw and powered up my computer. Exhaustion hit me hard. Four hours of sleep couldn’t possibly get me through this morning. I caught up on my e-mails and finally read about Thanh’s research, but my brain couldn’t process it, so I logged onto Facebook.
Adam and Stacy’s picture came up right at the top of my feed. Stacy had tagged herself and some fake Adam Copeland profile. She posted the caption, Look who I m
et! My blood pulsed with rage. I was going to kill her.
The comments piled up with the obvious congratulations and How did you meet him?! and Who is that? He’s gorgeous! and OH MY GOD I LOVE HIM!!11!
My stomach hurt. I couldn’t even “like” Stacy’s picture. I didn’t recognize the emotion I was feeling. It was like I was jealous of her, but that made no sense at all. Of course she’d post it. Why wouldn’t she? She’d just met a celebrity, one she’d had a massive crush on, and who wouldn’t want to share that?
Instead of stewing, I considered my immediate options.
Option one: I could pretend I had no idea about the origin of the picture, “like” it, and comment, Awesome! Stacy would get the irony. But that would leave a bad taste in my mouth.
Option two: I could ignore it completely. At the moment, that seemed like the best plan.
Option three: I could comment, She’s at my apartment because I was up all night fucking him. That would be immediately satisfying, but in addition to the fact that my mom would see it, I knew I couldn’t do that for so very many reasons.
Option four: I could comment, Actually, she met him through me. That seemed attention seeking at best. At worst, it would lead to a hundred questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
Option five: Or I could text Adam and ask him to meet me for lunch.
I picked option five. If you’re still around and awake, would you meet me for lunch? I sent it and waited. And waited.
While I had Facebook open, I searched for Adam’s page. Micah had said he only had a fan page, so I’d never bothered trying to find it before. When I pulled it up, the wall of promotional info, tour dates, and videos revealed nothing personal at all, as if his agent maintained his account.
I logged on to Twitter and found his profile. It was all verified and everything. I clicked on Follow. Though the tweets were few and far between, they weren’t promotional. In the past week, before I’d met him, he’d asked his followers, It’s 3 am. Should I go for a donut or finally get some sleep?
I giggled at how cute Adam-before-he-knew-me was. And most of his tweets were similar—glimpses into the male psyche.
The replies to his pivotal donut dilemma were infinite. Donuts held the lead, but the competition was fierce and included such lofty professions as I love you! and I love donuts! I ran a search on his Twitter handle to read his general replies. Micah was right—it was way too much for anyone to read. Adam was almost completely inaccessible online.
I was just about to close the program and start doing some real work, when I noticed a tweet from Adrianna LaRue from sometime Sunday. It said, In the best of times :) I clicked View Conversation, and thunder filled my ears.
Adrianna had tweeted: I can’t overstate the importance of friends who really know you. I hope you’re all blessed with at least one. #amgrateful
Adam’s reply read: Especially in times of war.
Adrianna’s In the best of times :) was the final tweet. The sideways smiley face looked like a smug asshole. Sunday, I’d been suffering at my parents’ house and wondering why Adam hadn’t called. Where had he been?
I took a deep, calming breath and then, without much premeditation, I clicked the Follow link on Adrianna’s profile.
The door to the lab opened and interrupted my stalking. Stacy and Kelly entered together, arguing.
Kelly complained. “I don’t see why you can’t just tell me.”
Stacy grabbed her elbow and hauled her over. “You tell her, Eden. I didn’t think I should steal your thunder.”
“Whaaat?” I asked slowly, looking from one to the other.
Kelly huffed. “Um. Stacy won’t tell me how she met Adam Copeland and said I’d have to let you explain it.”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t sure how to begin. “Sooo. We’re kind of seeing each other?” It was still a question in my own mind.
“Kind of? How in the hell did you manage to land someone like that?”
Again, not sure how best to explain it. “Uhh. Chemistry?”
“Chemistry, huh? That hardly explains how you even know him.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“I met him at Micah’s show last Friday. It’s no big deal.”
“At that club?” The disdain Kelly had shown a week before was replaced by disbelief.
Stacy beamed. “She didn’t know who he was. Can you even imagine?”
Kelly pursed her lips. “Right. You didn’t know who Adam Copeland was.” Her laugh was hollow.
“Why’s that so hard to believe?”
She slung her purse over her shoulder and stepped toward the door. “Well, good luck. I’m going to get some coffee.”
After she left, Stacy’s mouth hung open.
“Why’s she acting like such a bitch?” I asked.
Stacy laughed. “She’s so jealous. We’re both so jealous. Come to the cafeteria with me and tell me everything. Please?” She handed me my purse. “You can start with that kiss I saw him give you at the car before you’d even left for your date. He had you pinned against the car. Damn.”
We grabbed some coffee and found a table near the far wall, away from prying ears. She immediately started in with the questions, but instead of giving her an account of my date, I asked, “Stacy, would you think it weird if I took a picture with you going on a date and posted it on Facebook?”
Her face dropped. “Oh, you’re mad I didn’t ask if I could post that picture of Adam?”
“I’m not mad, but you should have asked first.”
She shrugged. “But, Eden, it’s not the same thing. Adam’s a celebrity. Surely, he’s used to having his picture posted everywhere.”
I sucked on my teeth for a second, trying to find a way to get through to her. “Stacy, was Adam performing last night? Was he at a concert or at some kind of arranged meet and greet?”
“Huh?”
“Look. I know it’s hard to separate your knowledge of Adam from before with the guy in my apartment last night, but when he’s out on a date, he’s just a regular guy. Okay?”
“Ha. As if.” She shook her head and snorted.
“When he’s with me, he’s just Adam. And when you post pictures of him in my apartment, it’s an invasion of my privacy.”
“You’re overreacting, Eden. It was just a picture. He agreed to pose with me.”
“And did you consider how it might impact me? Did you notice I didn’t respond? How was I supposed to respond?”
“You could’ve commented.”
I tilted my head at her. “Why couldn’t you have kept it off Facebook? What did you get out of posting it?”
She scoffed. “What would be the point of taking the picture if it wasn’t going to be shared? Who would’ve known I’d met someone famous?”
“Bingo. And that’s what we call name-dropping, Stacy.”
Her expression changed from surprise to shock to anger in a flash. “You’re accusing me of name-dropping? I was just sharing a cool thing that happened to me. You know, it must be pretty easy to feel smug from your vantage point.”
“That cool thing that happened to you wasn’t about you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, don’t worry, Eden. He only had eyes for you. It was like I wasn’t even there.”
I blew my lips out in frustration. “Well, Stacy. He was my date.” I changed tactics. “Would you like to ever meet him again?”
Her eyes grew wide. “God, yes!”
I waited a beat.
She slumped. “Oh. Yeah, okay. I get it. Am I cut off? Will you ever let me near him again?”
“Stacy, I have no idea where things are going with him. Would you just agree to tone it down for now? If things go well, and I hope they will, maybe once we’re a public couple you can post pictures of yourself with him. Or if you run into him in your own apartment. Please?”
She twisted her mouth. “Okay, but damn it, that was the best thing to happen to me all year.”
I sipped my coffee. “Me, too.”<
br />
At ten, Thanh grabbed me and took me down to the testing area. Before he had a chance to trick me into playing human guinea pig, I said, “Thanh, you should’ve told me what your perfume did before asking me to wear it. You know I sometimes leave the lab. Did you stop to think what might happen if I went into the world wearing a man magnet?”
His eyes lit up. “Did you?”
I dropped into a chair, considering how much to tell him. “Look. I may have met someone.”
He pulled up a chair. He’d never looked so interested in anything I’d had to say before. “Wearing the perfume? And?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It might have triggered something. I can’t be sure. I’m worried that—”
He laid his hand on my forearm. “Could you bring him in? Please?”
“What?”
“Bring him in. I want to interview him. Find out his reaction. Maybe get some blood samples. You could be my Tristan and Iseult.”
“Tristan and who?”
“We’re starting clinical trials. We’ve got a whole array of male test subjects to observe, but it would be very useful to have a couple this stuff actually may have worked on.” He was off in his own world, making plans, ignoring me. I could’ve set my hair on fire, and he might not notice for a few minutes.
“Thanh, listen. I don’t want to be a part of your experiment, okay? Have you considered the ethical ramifications of this perfume? It’s like an airborne attack on the unsuspecting. And you didn’t even tell me what it was. You have no idea what you’ve done.”
He clapped his hands to his mouth. I was making his entire day. “So it must have really worked, huh? Tell me this, was it mutual? How long did the feelings last?”
I banged my head against the table. “Thanh, I am not a guinea pig. This is real life.”
“You really like him, huh? Very exciting.”
Irritated, I stood and left the room. I jumped on the laptop to Google this Tristan and Iseult. They were legendary lovers, but their story had about ten billion versions. I managed to glean that Tristan had unwittingly drunk a love potion that made him fall passionately in love with Iseult against his will. I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt for continuing to see Adam without telling him about the perfume. I vowed I would tell him at lunch. Let the chips fall.
Some Kind of Magic Page 9