Adam's List(33)

“No way!” Then, for a fraction of a second, I consider his sex appeal going to waste on me and shake my head. “Doubtful anyway. He said something about not wanting to be the rebound guy. He made it sound like his family is pretty intense.”

“Sounds like a load of shit to me. Maybe he’s just a total player.” Kelly glances down at her chipped pink nails before deciding which one to chew on. “When are you going to introduce me to this guy? I’m starting to feel like the secret friend not suitable for public viewing.”

“Give yourself a little credit. I at least take you out for walks.” I giggle when she feigns insult. “It’d be way too awkward to officially introduce you if we’re not actually dating. You’ll just have to conveniently run into us one of these times.” I breathe out a long, slow breath, resting my hands on my stomach. “If there is a next time.”

Her eyes glower with suspicion. Times like this she’s more like the overbearing big sister I never had than my best friend, but I appreciate how much she cares. Since I lost most of my high school friends and my parents are so skeptical of my ability to independently function as a human, she’s kind of the only person of value left in my life.

“Does he still want you to go on his little trip?”

“I think so.” I shrug, crossing my legs then uncrossing them again. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can act normal around him for that long anyway. I mean if he just wants to be friends, I may have to invest in physical restraints.”

Could I really pretend I’m not majorly attracted to him for that long? I have a hard enough time when we’re alone for just a few hours. No matter how much I try to avoid it, my mind wanders to places that would definitely violate any kind of platonic friendship.

Kelly chews on her nail a little longer before springing from the couch. “Well, if you’re not going with him tonight, then you have no excuse to get out of going to the first end of the year mixer at Matt’s sisters’ house.”

The thought of teetering around all night in heels and a cocktail dress makes me want to roll my eyes. It’s one of the many reasons I purposely chose not to join a sorority. Kelly gets all hyped up over that kind of thing, but I’d rather hang on the couch in a pair of sweats and watch horror movies where no one will bother me.

“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’ll pass.”

“C’mon, Jewels,” she pleads, patting my calf with her foot. “For the first time in months, you’re officially single. I could name off a dozen guys who would foam at the mouth if they heard this. Let’s get dressed up and show you off.”

Adam’s rejection still weighs heavy on my shoulders. I do feel like blowing off a little steam. Going to a semi-formal dance isn’t my idea of fun, but a night here by myself doesn’t sound that inviting, either. “Fine,” I grumble in resignation. “As long as you let me dress like something other than a lady of the night.”

Using Adam’s avoidance trick, I send him a text rather than calling, saying I’m too tired for a night out (just as Kelly’s pulling me through the sorority house door in the 3-inch, red-soled designer heels she got as a hand-me-down from her millionaire aunt).

I tug at the hem of the little black dress I bought for my high school graduation, not too surprised that it’s suddenly tight around my toned thighs. I haven’t worn a dress since attending my one and only mixer last fall, and I quite honestly feel more naked than dressed. Kelly curled my hair into loose waves that cascade over my bare shoulders dusted in shimmer.

Kelly’s cobalt blue dress covers a bit less than mine, its thin straps skimping across the sides of her shoulders and the hem stopping above her knees. I watched her twist and pin her brown locks for all of ten minutes before I was baffled by her mad hair skills.

She looks amazing, like some kind of freaking supermodel.

We pass a cluster of girls near the entrance dressed in leggings and cowgirl boots.

Not the usual fare for these kinds of parties.

I stare after them. “This is a semi formal, right? Are you sure we shouldn’t be wearing ten gallon hats and stick grass between our teeth?”

Kelly huffs while pushing her way through more of the same redneck attire. “Who gives a shit? You’re a total knockout in that dress!” A few guys in sports jackets follow us with their eyes as we pass by, one of them giving a low wolf-whistle. Kelly nudges me.

“See? It’s irrelevant.”

As Kelly has a thing for being fashionably late, the house is already packed shoulder-to-shoulder. A DJ with a pretty complex lighting system heads up the far end of the party room, blasting Jay-Z through a collection of tall speakers as bright lights flash everywhere. Some of the crowd jumps up and down to the beat, creating a lazy wave of heads in front of him. A pathetic display of bright streamers and balloons drape from the ceiling as the house’s sole decoration.