Adam's List(30)
Or with anyone.
“This is bullshit,” Levi hisses, collecting his jacket from the floor. “I drove over here to tell you I have these feelings for you, and you’re kicking me out? What the fuck?”
With my hands on my hips, I sigh. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask for this. In fact I broke up with you. Nothing about that gives you an open invitation to randomly show up and expect to spend the night with me. You still haven’t done anything to prove that you’re in this for anything more than sex. Telling me you may love me just sounded like another way to get me to fuck you.”
His cold, hard eyes lock with mine, making a trail of dread blaze down to my gut.
“Does this have something to do with that guy who was just here? Is that why you said you wanted to see other people? Are you fucking him?”
He stands rigid, waiting for me to answer, veins straining against his neck, anger radiating from him in waves. Although I’ve seen him get in a few fights—one resulting in the other guy walking away with a broken nose—none of them have ever been over me.
He’s pushed me around a few times when he was drinking and upset, but he never meant it, and I’ve never been fearful that he would hit me. Until now.
Shying away, I shake my head vigorously. “No. Adam has nothing to do with this,” I say gently, hoping I can talk him down. “It’s about you and me, Levi. And we’re done.”
The tension in his neck falters, but anger still clouds his vision. “We’re done? You just decided this now?” Spittle flies with his words. “You want something serious, I asked you to move in with me! Now you’re telling me I can’t even spend the night in your dorm? What’s this all about?”
“Maybe I’m finally growing up.” When my words seem to anger him even more, I step forward to touch his arm, my eyes gentle. “Hey, you tried. It might just be too late for us. We don’t have that much in common. I don’t think there’s anything left here that we can save.”
Jerking his arm from my hold, he stares down on me with what looks like total hatred. “If I find out all of this is because of that asshole, he’s dead.” With that he storms from the room, slamming the door so hard a bunch of our pictures jump off the wall, crashing to the floor.
When the black Challenger comes into view, I pull out my compact one more time to check on the braid Kelly insisted on giving me. This time she wove my blond hair across the side of my head and pinned it in a sloppy bun at my neck. Adam seemed to like the last braid I wore, so I hope he approves of this as well. Despite her expert makeup job, my eyes are still a bit puffy from nightmares filled with Jason and Levi, each of them angry, each of them yelling at me for being such a bitch and overall disappointment.
Kelly was livid when Matt dropped her off, not that Levi broke our pictures, but that he had threatened Adam and frightened me. While braiding my hair, she tried to convince me to file a restraining order in case his anger flares and he actually follows through with his threat. But knowing Levi, he’s likely angry enough that I won’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.
Watching Adam maneuver through the parking lot, I’m extra fidgety, checking to be sure my leggings are tucked neatly into my riding boots, my minty green shirt positioned just right around my collarbone without showing my bra straps. It’s been a while since I’ve been this concerned about my looks. Most days I roll out of bed and throw on sweats for class. But after Adam said he didn’t expect anything more than friendship, I feel like I have to know if it’s because he’s not attracted to me, or because he thinks I’m really still involved with Levi and he doesn’t want to interfere.
As soon as the car’s parked at the curb in front of me, I hop in. “Hey!”
“Hey. You look great.” While Adam pauses a millisecond to take me in, smiling, I do the same. In a black button down and dark blue jeans, he looks dressier than I’m used to seeing him, and there’s a slight shadow dusting his jaw. “Any special requests?”
“Surprise me,” I say, shrugging.
He takes me to the small diner downtown where my parents used to take my grandma when she came to visit. A tall, young waitress with bright red hair leads us to a small booth in the back, leaving us alone with plastic menus and the smell of bacon thick in the air. A few older couples litter the quaint diner, most of them sipping on coffee and glancing at us with curiosity. Two girls my age sit in old-fashioned red stools near the front counter, one chatting animatedly with her hands, the other nodding while staring down on her cell phone. When done skimming through the breakfast selections, I set the menu on the table and watch Adam.