Six Months Later

Six Months Later - Chapter 8

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.