Loving Adam

Chapter 4

6:15 pm, Sunday.

After checking in, I take one of the empty seats in the boarding room and pull out a book to read. 

Suddenly I see someone comes and sits next to me. It's Adam.

"Hey, have you got some coins?" he asks, reaching deep into his jeans pocket, "I want to get some soda and they won't take twenties."

I nod. Without saying anything, I reach for my pocket and give him the coins. He mumbles thank you and stand up.

While he's gone, I quickly remove the hoodie of my jacket to show my new hair. I brush it with my fingers to give it a bit of a volume and reach for a dab of lip gloss that Barbara gave me yesterday.

Adam returns with two cans of soda. He hands me one saying, "I don't know what you like, so I got you the vanila one."

The truth is, I hate soda. The taste disgusts me, especially the vanila one. But tonight is exception. Tonight, I would gladly drink soda.

"What did you do to your hair?" he asks while opening the can, looking amused.

I say nothing. Can't seem to talk. I just smile.

His lips curved into smile before he takes a sip. "So, are you excited about New York?" he asks.

I nod.

"We're gonna stuck with each other for two days, Hart. You need to speak to me at some point," he says, clearly amused.

I nod. Again.

He chuckles. "Oh my God, how exactly do you lead the debate team? Go back to your book then, I won't disturb you."

Oh no no no, please disturb me!

But he's already busy with his phone and he has put his headphones on.

I go back to my book, but the pages have miraculously turned into the image of Adam's face.

I look at him, trying to start a conversation. I wanted to ask if this is his first time going to New York. But then again, my throat refuses to cooperate.

"Flight number A134 destination to New York is now ready for boarding. First class passengers please head to the gate..."

"That's us?" Adam removes his earphones.

"Yes."

"Ok, let's go."

We both stand up and just when I'm about to pick my duffle bag off the floor, he reaches for it.

"I got you, Hart," he says. 

"Oh no, I can do it."

"It's fine, Hart. Walk."

Oh my God. Besides my dad, I have never had a guy carrying my bag before. 

We walk to the plane and the flight attendant welcomes us warmly. She ushers us to the most comfortable seats I have ever been on and she gives us fluffy pillow and a nice blanket. 

"Would you like some drinks?" the flight attendant asks, "Some juice, maybe?"

"Water please," I smile.

"And you, Sir?" she asks Adam.

I look at Adam. And that's when I realize, holy mother of moot, Adam and I are going to be in this flight together. We'll be sitting next to each other for one and a half hour.

He looks at me.

He grins and looks at the flight attendant, "I'll have what she's having."

#

"So," Adam says while we're opening our dinner, "You're going to Harvard?"

"If I get in," I say.

"According to Mrs. Chen, you're definitely getting in."

"There is no letter yet."

"You'll get in, trust me," he licks the back of the knife that he used to butter his bread with.

You lucky knife.

"How about you?" I ask, "Where are you going?"

"Oh," he says, "I don't think about that yet."

"But this is our last year!"

"Yes," he smirks, "But how can I apply if I don't know where I want to go?"

"You must be having a lot of offers with your football skills," I say, "Why don't you just pick which team you'd like to play for?"

"What if I don't want to play football?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You have to play football."

"Why? Do you even watch football? I don't think I've seen you watch our game before."

"Well I'm uh, I'm busy with other things. And football is not my thing, so."

He scoffs, "I'm sure."

"But I heard you're very good at it."

"How do you know if you have never seen me play?"

"People told me."

"So people thought I'm very good, but not you," he says. "Why don't you come watch me play sometimes? I'll give you front row seat."

Uh oh, I can feel my heart begins to pump up like a balloon of pure happiness.

"Maybe I should," I grin, "But you have to teach me how the game runs or else I won't understand what the heck is going on."

He nearly choke on his water. "You don't know how football goes?"

I shake my head, "No one ever taught me."

"A Harvard candidate does not know how a game of football goes?"

I chuckle, "You make it sound like it's really bad."

"Because it is really bad, Hart! What is wrong with you? Ok, let me teach you right now," he clears both of our tables and grabs the unused tea spoons, sugar pack, small juice boxes, and a couple of other things to line them up neatly in two rows. "Okay, so this sugar pack over here is what we call the quarterback..."

"Is that on purpose?" I ask

"I'm sorry?"

"You're a quarterback, right? Is that why you choose a sugar to represent you?"

He laughs, "You got me, Hart."

I laugh with him.

We continue talking and laughing for the entire one and a half hour, where he was mine. And mine only. 

#