“Why do you keep looking out the window?” Hugo asks. “You’re making me anxious.”
I’m sitting at a table with Adam, Hugo, and another drummer girl he appears to have a crush on but who is, fortunately, not Pixie. “I’m waiting for a friend,” I say.
Adam looks around. He’s been distracted all evening by the people up on stage, but apparently this is important enough to pay attention to. “Who?” he asks.
“My hot date. Biker dude with tattoos. He’s bringing his electric guitar for open mic night.”
Adam loses some of the colour in his cheeks.
“You know I’m joking, right? I’m waiting for Salima. So actually,” I add with a smile, “it could be your hot date we’re waiting for.”
Adam sighs and turns back to face the stage while Hugo shakes his head and laughs. “Come on, man. Livi organised a date for you. You should be happy.” His words are followed closely by a muffled groan of pain, which I’m guessing is a result of Adam kicking him under the table again.
“You guys need to grow up,” Drummer Girl says, but she’s smiling, so I take it she’s not as moody as Pixie.
“I’m going to wait outside,” I say, standing up. Salima should have been here fifteen minutes ago. Perhaps she’s bailed on me. I knew I should have coaxed her phone number out of her.
I pace the sidewalk, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to try and get rid of the goosebumps. It’s warm inside Jazzy Beanbag, and I left my jersey hanging over the back of my chair. I’m about to head back inside to fetch it when I car door slams and I turn around to see Salima walking towards me.
“You’re late,” I say.
She stops as her gaze travels down and up again. “Don’t you ever dress sensibly, Livi?”
“Stop judging,” I say, looking down at my short dress. “Okay, so it’s not exactly appropriate for a winter’s-almost-here night, but I’ve got long boots on. And it’s warm in there.” I point defensively behind me.
“I’m sure.” She sniffs and walks past me. “If you get sick, it’s your own fault.”
“You sound like my mom,” I grumble.
“And I’m only staying until nine. Bed time is nine thirty.”
“Now you really sound like my mom.” I hurry after her. Warm air rushes over me as we enter Jazzy Beanbag, a welcome relief from the chill outside. “Over there,” I say, pointing to Hugo and Drummer Girl, whose name I should have found out before I put myself in a situation where I have to introduce her to someone. Adam’s gone—probably to the bar to get another drink. He seems to be throwing the rum and coke back a little faster tonight than normal.
Hugo introduces himself and his date Lainey, saving me from having to embarrass myself. I sit down, and Salima takes Adam’s vacated seat next to me. She removes her jacket, arranges it neatly on her lap, then she looks up and squints at the stage. “Is that Adam?”
I look across the room, and my breath escapes me in a whoosh of air. It is Adam on the stage. And he’s standing in front of a microphone holding a guitar.
Wait. A microphone? Adam doesn’t sing. He can probably play any instrument on the planet, but he doesn’t sing. Not even in the shower or in the car when the radio’s turned up loud. The microphone must be for the guitar.
Focus, Livi. ADAM IS ON THE FREAKING STAGE.
He adjusts the guitar strap around his neck, then fiddles with the microphone, bringing it up to the right height in front of his mouth. HIS MOUTH! He’s going to be singing. I’m almost certain of it, and I suddenly feel insanely nervous for him. What if he messes up and embarrasses himself? What if he sounds awful? What if people boo him? It doesn’t happen often, but there was an intoxicated guy up there just now who sounded so terrible he earned himself a whole chorus of boos.
Adam shuffles closer to the microphone, swallows, licks his lips, and refuses to look up at his audience. Nervousness is written all over him. CRAP! Don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up.
I watch him take a few deep breaths, and then his fingers begin moving over the strings. Plucking slowly, deliberately, perfectly. A beautiful, sweet melody I want to close my eyes and lose myself in, but I don’t want to miss the way his fingers move across the strings because I’m convinced beyond a doubt that his hands were made to play this instrument.
And then he starts singing—
—and all my remaining fears fly out the window.
My limbs go weak and the little hairs all over my body rise and I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing and his voice. HIS VOICE. Deep and warm and soothing and just the tiniest bit husky. It gives me shivers and heats my blood at the same time.
HOW DID I NOT KNOW HE COULD SING LIKE THIS?
His words tumble past my ears, failing to make sense. Something about the wrong girl being the right girl, a kiss under the stars, and falling over and over again. Finally I recognise it. It’s a pop song I’ve heard many times on the radio, upbeat and catchy, but the way Adam sings it is completely different. Slow and soulful, like a love letter whispered in the night from a Romeo to his Juliet.
I want someone to sing to me like this. I want him to sing to me like this. I wish there were no one else here but the two of us. One spotlight on him, and one on me. His fingers doing a slow dance across the strings, and his captivating voice melting my heart. I wish he’d look up, and our eyes would meet, and I’d know that every word from his mouth was—
“Holy crap, he’s AMAZING,” Lainey says, startling me from my reverie. I take a gasp of air, as if I’ve been underwater without realising it, and I remember that I’m not the only one in the audience, and that it’s my best friend up there, and that it would be totally weird if he were singing to me.
A few beats of silence follow the end of his song before Jazzy Beanbag fills with applause and wolf whistles and a scream or two. My weak legs remember how to move, and I jump to my feet along with at least half the room. Adam sets his guitar down at the back of the stage, then jumps down the stairs and makes his way to our table, smiling awkwardly and thanking the people who clap him on the back as they congratulate him.
I act without thinking and throw my arms around his neck when he reaches our table. “Adam! You were incredible!” I squeeze him tight before letting go. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you could sing?”
He shrugs, leaning across the table to high-five Hugo. “Too shy, I guess. Instruments are my thing, not singing.”
“Not singing? Adam, are you insane? You could sing all day and I’d never get tired of it.”
“Same here,” Lainey says, which earns her a frown from Hugo. “Seriously, Adam, if you’re looking to join a band, I’d be happy to give our lead singer the boot. You’re miles better than he is, not to mention way less annoying.”
Adam lets out a nervous laugh and sits in the empty chair between Lainey and Salima. “Thanks, guys. And thanks for the offer, Lainey, but I don’t plan to venture beyond open mic night. Oh, and hey, Salima.” He gives her an awkward half-wave. “Cool that you could join us.”
She giggles. GIGGLES. I want to look at her and say, “Seriously?” but I manage to restrain myself.
I call a waitress over and order myself another glass of wine. I’m still feeling a little unsettled by my desire to have Adam serenade me with a love song, and I’m almost certain wine can fix that. “Oh, and you and I still need to order some food, right?” I say to Salima before the waitress leaves.
“Oh, no, I actually ate something at home while I was working.”
“Cheater,” I say, before leaning back and asking the waitress to bring me a burger. “What happened to us having dinner together, Salima?”
“You just never know how long these places take to prepare food, and it isn’t good for you to eat right before going to bed.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I pat her arm. “I see it as a triumph that I got you to come here at all. We can work on dinner next time.”
Before she can argue about there being a ‘next time,’ I change the
subject to something Salima and Adam have in common—computers—and get Adam to tell Salima about his new laptop. The two of them converse awkwardly, while Hugo and Lainey chatter on the other side of the table, and I’m left feeling rather spare. It isn’t for long, though. I’m halfway through my burger when Salima taps her watch and says, “Time for me to go, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, okay. Uh, shall I walk you outside?” Adam says.
“Thank you.”
They head to the door, and Hugo leans over and says, “Strict schedule, I see.”
I nod, swallow a mouthful of burger, and add, “Hard-ass parents.”
Adam takes far longer than necessary outside, and my burger’s almost finished when he gets back. “Get a goodnight kiss?” Hugo teases with a wide grin.
The last bit of burger sitting on my plate suddenly becomes a whole lot less appetising. Probably because half my brain is still imagining that kiss under the stars from the song Adam sung and wishing I was the recipient, not—
Whoa. Wine. The imagination section of my brain needs more wine.
***
Two hours later, it’s just Adam, Hugo and me left at the table, and I’ve had a teeny bit too much to drink. Not so much that I won’t remember anything in the morning, but enough to feel warm and floaty and to find all the rubbish the guys are talking about unbearably hilarious.
“You’re supposed to try and get through the night without having to pee when you’re camping,” I tell Hugo. “Don’t you know that?”
“Such a camping novice,” Adam adds with a laugh.
“I had to go!” Hugo says, far too loudly. “It wasn’t my fault the toilets were up a hill on the other side of a forest. And it was almost completely dark, and then this howl happened, and this big shape was bashing around the trees, so of course I ran back to the tent shrieking like a girl.”
My stomach aches as more laughter bubbles from my lips. “You should have just … dug a hole,” I gasp.
“Oh, classy, Livi, really classy.”
“That’s me.” I raise my glass and down the last mouthful. “Class personified.”
“Hey, I think they’re getting ready to close up,” Adam says, looking around. “We should probably get home. Lectures in the morning.”
“Oh, lectures, yaaaaay,” I sing as I stand and spin in a circle on one foot. I don’t fall over, which I consider to be quite an achievement.
“Wow, you sure are enthusiastic about Monday morning classes,” Hugo says as I pull my jersey on.
“It was a sarcastic ‘yay.’”
“And the spinning?”
“Clearly it was a sarcastic spin too, Hugo,” Adam says. “Didn’t you catch that?”
Hugo raises his eyebrows. “Are you guys okay to walk home? I mean, you know which way is home, right?”
“Hey, are you okay to drive, Mr Scaredy Pants?” I ask, poking his chest repeatedly. “You’ve had just as much to drink as we have.”
“No way.” Hugo grabs my poking finger to make me stop. “I think your vision must be impaired, because there are way more empty glasses on your side of the table than on mine.”
“Well, hello. There were two of us on our side of the table, and only one on your side.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was talking per person. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Adam mutters, giving me a Duh look.
Hugo’s eyes move from me to Adam and back. “I think I should drive you guys home.”
“But it’s so faaaaar out of your way,” I say as we walk to the door. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course we can walk.”
“We can walk,” Adam adds. “We’ll be fine.”
“Oh, we forgot to pay!” I say, spinning around as the door closes behind us.
“Relax, Liv.” Adam pulls me back and puts an arm around me. “We paid twenty minutes ago.”
“Oh yes. I remember that.” I remember taking money out of my purse after Hugo told me how much I owed. My brain was taking far too long adding up the numbers.
“So, you said you’ll be fine, huh?” Hugo says doubtfully.
“Yes, dude, stop worrying.” Adam slaps his friend on the shoulder and pushes him towards his car.
Hugo climbs inside, shaking his head. “Let me know when you’re home, otherwise I’ll be back here in half an hour searching the sidewalks for passed-out bodies.” He shuts his door. Adam lets go of me and sneaks around the back of the car, bending down as he goes.
“Hey, don’t let the big, scary creatures get you,” I call to Hugo through the window.
On the other side of the car, Adam jumps up, bangs on the passenger window, and roars. Hugo flinches, swears, and yells something I can’t make out because I’m now doubled over with laughter.
“Hilarious,” Hugo shouts, shaking his head and starting his car. “If you pass out, you’re on your own.” And with a final wave, he takes off.
I’m shivering now, and Adam slings an arm around my shoulders again as we walk down the street. “Did you see his face?” I say, still laughing. “I wish I’d had my phone out so I could have got a photo. I so would have stuck that up on the pinboard behind the bar at Jazzy B.”
“Oh, it’s Jazzy B now, is it? Too much effort to get that last syllable out?”
“WAY too much effort.” I sweep my arm through the air for emphasis. “And I feel so cool saying Jazzy B. Oh!” I add, suddenly remembering the song. “And I am cool because I’m with you and you’re the latest Jazzy B singing SENSATION!” I belt out the last word so the whole neighbourhood can hear it.
Adam claps a hand over my mouth and laughs into my neck. “You’re trying to get us arrested, aren’t you. I’ve figured out your plan.”
“YES!” I shout the moment he drops his hand from my mouth. “An arrest record will do WONDERS for my street cred. Just think how cool I’ll be when—Ooh, pole, look out!”
Adam swerves us to the side and walks us around the pole. “Come on, Liv. Like I’d really let my clumsy princess walk into a pole. I—” His words are cut off as he trips over a section of the sidewalk pushed up by a tree root. He stumbles away from me and catches himself against the tree.
“HA!” I point at him as I double over, shaking with silent laughter. “Who’s … a clumsy princess … now, huh?”
“Oh, you are so going to pay for that,” he says, pushing away from the tree and lurching forward like a zombie
I laugh as I run along the sidewalk towards our house. When I get there, I grab onto the rusted gate and look back, breathing in deep gulps of chilled night air. “I made it!” I shout back to Adam. “I’m safe!”
“And who says the gate is safe?” he calls back, then lowers his voice to a deep growl. “Nowhere is safe.”
I tip my head back and drape my hand over my forehead, miming a fainting motion—just as rivers of water begin tumbling down from the sky. I squeal and push the gate open enough for me to get through. I run across the garden and up to the shelter of the verandah, Adam close behind me.
“A little warning would have been nice,” Adam yells at the sky before removing his keys from his pocket.
We get inside, and I lean against the wall and close my eyes. “Ugh, I’m so tired.”
“Me too.” He locks the door and tilts his head back against it. “So,” he says after a moment. “Big Bang Theory?”
I open my eyes and give him a sleepy smile. “Of course.” I unzip and remove my boots so I won’t make any noise on the wooden floor and wake Luke, then tiptoe to the bathroom, my wet dress sticking to my legs.
One brief shower and one warm pair of winter PJs later, I sway into Adam’s room and tumble onto his bed. “I am going to sleep so well tonight.”
Adam, who looks like he just fell asleep in his desk chair, stirs and opens his eyes. “Oh. Um. I can’t remember which episode we watched last.”
“Me neither.” I crawl to the other side of the bed and pull a blanket over myself. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”
“I guess not.” Adam picks an episode and starts it—adjusting the volume so it isn’t too loud—then turns off the main light and joins me on the bed.
“If I fall asleep,” I say, “wake me so I can leave. I’d hate to drool on you.”
“Mmm. That would be gross.”
“So gross.”
The little people on the screen say something funny, and the studio audience laughs.
“Adam?”
“Mmm?”
My eyelids droop as the cogs in my brain struggle to turn. “I forgot what I was going to say.”
“Mmm.”
“Oh yes. I like listening to the rain.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is nice.”
“Livi?”
“Mmm?”
“Shh.”
Light brushes my eyelids and gently urges me from dreamland and back to the world of the living. I half open one eyelid and peek out, closing it again almost immediately. Too early. Too bright. My body feels stiff and achy, as if I’ve been curled tightly in one position for too long. I moan and try to stretch my legs out, but—
I freeze.
My eyes spring open.
And I realise several things at once.
One, something warm is pressed along the length of my body. Two, the blanket wrapped around me isn’t mine. And three, I don’t remember getting into my own bed last night.
HOLY FREAKING CRAP. I spent the night in Adam’s bed. I’ve never spent the night in any guy’s bed before, and now I’m in my best friend’s bed, pressed up against him, his darned beautiful voice still playing at the back of my mind, AND I JUST MOANED OUT LOUD!
So. Damn. Awkward.
Okay. Just breathe. This doesn’t have to be weird. It’s not like his arm is around me. THAT would have been weird. But no. I’m pretty sure I can’t feel an arm around me. So we’re basically just lying next to each other. Nothing wrong with that. This is fine. This is really fine.
I try to move again, and that’s when I discover that one of Adam’s legs is on top of one of mine, tangled up in the blanket wrapped around me.
The Trouble with Flirting Page 18