“I’m probably the only one in this school whose parents don’t really care if I ever declare a major,” I tell him. “They’re more concerned that I get as many life experiences as possible.”
Adam tilts his head. “I feel like I’ve seen you before. You work on campus?”
“The library. Work study.”
It was one of the less creative conditions my parents threw at me after they discovered Levi. While I was less than thrilled when I discovered he had a little boy with an ex-girlfriend, I’ve gotten over it. But it totally put my parents over the edge when they discovered through a friend of a friend that I was seeing a much older man who’s also a daddy. They’re always trying to find creative ways to keep us apart, anything short of locking me in a closet.
Adam’s expression lights up. “That’s it. I think I saw you stacking shelves a few times earlier this year.”
“What can I say? It’s cutting-edge work.”
A few giggling girls saunter between us. In matching slutty tops that show half their bras, and jeans so tight their butts contort with unflattering rolls, it’s no surprise when they throw their long hair of various colors over their shoulders and pass Adam sultry looks. The smell of an actual brewery wafts after them.
Adam’s eyes flicker to the sky once they’re gone. “So, cataloging books and drinking keg beer. How’s that life experience thing working out for you so far?”
We pass knowing smirks. “Invigorating. Who knew life could be so vivacious?”
“Your parents sound like mine.” He gazes past me to the darkness. “I always figure they’re just trying to relive their younger days through me.”
“How old are you?” I shimmy my way up to the top of the stone wall across from him, pulling my knees against my chest to keep warm.
He turns back to me, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. “Just turned twenty-one last month.”
“So if you’re not wasting your days away in an institution, preparing for your shiny bright future in the corporate world, what do you do with all your spare time?”
“The past couple weeks I’ve been crashing at a buddy’s, trying to decide what I want to do next.” He raises a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “You know, invigorating stuff.”
“Sounds like hard work.” I giggle in the carefree way I used to before my life went south. It feels good, as if I’ve shed a heavy weight. “So what have you come up with?
Sailing the world? Mission trip to Uganda?”
The soft dimples pop back into place with his grin. “Something like that.”
My smile sizzles away. “Wait, you’re not joking.”
“Life can be short.” His beautiful eyes become filled with intension. “I want to do something profound.”
A pang strikes deep in my chest. I once saw that same level of determination in Jason’s eyes when he uttered nearly those exact same words. Our senior year, after we’d been dating for almost two years, he enlisted in the Marines. I always knew he was really heavily into the military stuff because he came from a family who had all served—
his mom, dad, grandpa and a couple of uncles—but it still felt like a blow to the stomach when he didn’t choose to go to college with me as planned. My nearly 4.0 average would’ve given me my pick of schools, but I chose to stay local so I’d be close to Jason’s family, and wouldn’t have to rearrange my school schedule whenever he was on leave.
“You okay?” Adam asks, dragging me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah. What do you mean, like join the Army?”
His lips pull off to the side in a crooked smirk. “No, I don’t think I’m cut out for the military. They’d chew me up and spit me out.”
Even though this guy’s still a stranger, his words are comforting. Nervous laughter bubbles out before I can filter it. “Yeah, you don’t really seem the type.”
His smirk grows. “What type do you see me as?”
I rest my chin on my knees, pretending to turn all serious. “Hmmm, I see you as the type who would find your way up to the front row at a concert. Or the type who would feel comfortable zip-lining over the Grand Canyon. Maybe the type to paddle board in the ocean, maybe even braid some bracelets on the beach and save some sea turtles when you’re done.”
“Impressive list.” He casually crosses his arms, amused. “You’re saying you see me as some kind of granola hippie?”
I lift just one eyebrow, a trick I inherited from my dad. “Am I right?”
With a chuckle, he shakes his head. “I haven’t done any of those things.”