“You’re going to do awesome. Consider that test aced,” I say, and then I snag him an extra pencil out of the treasure box at the back of the room as I walk him out.
I release Tyler to his parents in the waiting room. The door chimes open as we’re exchanging waves and farewells. I have no idea if I have another student or what’s going on, so I step over to the door to say hello.
And then I just about fall over.
“Adam,” I say. I don’t even really mean to say it, but it’s like my mouth was just waiting for a chance to get it out.
“Hey.” He looks up, a half smile on his lips. Lips I really have to stop looking at, especially when my boyfriend is in the other room. My belly feels tight and I can feel myself smiling and this is not good.
So not good.
“You tutoring today?” I ask, hoping that will be a safe bet.
Wrong answer.
Something dark flashes over his features. He doesn’t answer me, just shakes his head like he can’t believe I would go there.
Panicked, I turn to follow him as he moves farther into the room. It’s only then that I see the white logo in the corner of his blue shirt and the giant rolling trash can he’s pulling behind him. Yeah, he’s here to clean the desks, not sit at them.
My heart twists in my chest.
Obviously the me without amnesia knows he’s a janitor here, and that me wouldn’t say something so horrible. Unless, of course, I wanted to make him feel completely shitty about being a janitor.
Fantastic.
I stand there, wishing I could go back in time, while he collects trash and runs the dust mop under the chairs. I have to say something. I can’t let him think that I think…well, whatever awful thing he probably thinks I’m thinking.
I expect him to head into the tutoring room, but he doesn’t. He cuts into a hallway off the waiting room, one that leads to restrooms and offices and all sorts of places I’m probably not allowed to explore.
I follow him anyway.
“Adam, wait!”
“Working here,” he says, the bite in his tone as sharp and hard as teeth.
It would make more sense to head into the women’s room first, but he moves right past it for the men’s room instead. He shrugs his shoulders at me with a false apology in his eyes. The men’s room door swings shut with a yellow “Restroom Being Cleaned” sign dangling from the handle. It’s like a silent dare.
Yeah. Well, there’s a reason I streaked Clementine Drive in my undies in the middle of February. I’m not the kind of girl who turns down a dare.
Chapter Eight
I push the door open and slide into the world of urinals and general male restroom ickyness.
“You really don’t take a hint, do you?” he asks, leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed. How anyone can look this hot in a polyester button-down with Peachy Kleen! emblazoned across the pocket is beyond me, but he’s managing it.
He’s more than managing it.
“I didn’t mean that,” I say. “I didn’t think.”
Well, technically I didn’t know, but it’s not like I can say that.
“Yeah, you’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Not thinking.”
I take a step toward him. I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but I’m not sure I can stop myself either. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not fine. And I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that,” he says, and then his brow furrows. “So is that it?”
I blink at him, stunned into silence.
He lifts his hands briefly, latex gloves stretched over his palms. “Apology received, Chloe. Consider your conscience clear.”
I open my mouth, and God, why is it like this with him? I’m completely defective with Blake, but I swear the whole room hums when I look at Adam’s eyes.
He suddenly walks forward, coming close enough to steal the breath right out of me. Words continue to evade me, which is probably for the best. Nothing’s coming out right anyway. And frankly, I’d rather stand here in silence than have him tell me to leave.
Adam clenches his fists at his sides and takes a sharp breath. His voice is low, with a pleading edge that doesn’t match his hard expression. “I have work to do, Chloe.”
“Adam, please.” I reach for him instinctively, my fingers wrapping around the bare flesh of his wrist.
The memory rocks through me like a shock wave. Quick and powerful.
I see leaves. A red-gold carpet of them litters my lawn. My rake pushes them into piles, baring trails of green grass and the crisp, unmistakable smell of autumn in the air.
Beside me, Adam looks up from his own rake. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re the one who kept me up until three in the morning for, what was it? Eight Halo rematches last night? Remind me again how many of those you won?”
Instead of replying, Adam tosses his rake and lunges for me.
I feel his hands on my waist and laughter bubbling out of me as he hauls me into the air and then tosses me into the pile. Leaves crunch beneath me as I laugh, pulling at his feet and knees until I bring him down beside me.
I smell the sweetness of October all around me as we lie there side by side, laughing until my cheeks ache with it. Adam rolls on his side to face me. His eyes are so blue I feel myself getting lost in them. I know I’m staring and I know it’s obvious, and somehow it’s so ridiculous that it only makes me laugh more.
My shoulders are shaking and I should stop, but it’s just so crazy. Then Adam reaches for my face, and there’s nothing funny about it.
His eyes go soft, and my insides curl like ribbons on a gift. I feel the ghost of his fingers on my hair. It only leaves me aching for more.
“I shouldn’t even be here, you know,” he says softly.
“I know,” I say. But when he moves to leave, I take his hand. And he lets me.
“What’s going on, Chloe?”
I jump away from Adam at the sound of Blake’s voice. And there we are, Blake staring at me, Adam staring at Blake, and me staring at the wall, cheeks burning like someone lit them on fire.
“Chloe?” Blake prompts again.
“I called her a bitch,” Adam says, with a shrug that says I’m making a big deal out of nothing.
Blake and I both look at him—me in shock, Blake with disbelief. Adam just crosses his long arms across his middle again and tries to look bored.
“You called her a bitch,” Blake says.
Okay, I’m not sure what Blake’s trying for, but if it’s anger, he’s missing the mark. Like way missing it, because if anything, he sounds amused. And maybe he is. I don’t even care. All I care about is getting out of here. Like, now.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Blake says, giving an exaggerated shrug. “Why would you say that?”
“She was spitting out your Goody Two-shoes crap. And God knows she can’t let it go,” Adam says, gesturing at me with something that I think is supposed to look like disgust.
Okay, everyone in this room needs acting lessons. None of us are buying any of this, but I don’t see anything else for sale.
I cringe, desperate to break the awkward silence. “I wasn’t—”
Blake turns toward me, face expectant.
“You weren’t being a self-righteous bitch?” Adam asks, his snarly tone a complete contradiction to his tense expression. “Sure you weren’t.”
“Whatever. Can we just go now, Blake?”
Blake cuts his eyes to the urinal. “Well, if you’re done here, I’d still like to use the restroom.”
If I blush any harder at this point, I’ll actually become a tomato. I cover my face, shaking my head. “Sorry. Here, I’ll take your stuff and wait for you.”
Blake gives me one more look and then hands me his binder and phone. I’m shooting for the door before he’s even fully let go.
Once outside, I hear Blake speak again, his voice muffled by the door. “Don’t forget yourself, big guy. Boyfriend is my job, not yours.”
I stop short, somehow frozen by his words. Or maybe his tone. I mean, I know I’m his girlfriend. Even if I can’t remember anything, I have about two hundred pictures to prove it. But there was something about his tone. Almost like he was joking.
Like us being together is a joke.