Part 8 (1/2)

”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 G.o.d, 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 gra.s.s 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.

I feel his hands on my waist and laughter bubbling out of me as he hauls me into the air and then tosses me into the pile. Leaves crunch beneath me as I laugh, pulling at his feet and knees until I bring him down beside me.

I smell the sweetness of October all around me as we lie there side by side, laughing until my cheeks ache with it. Adam rolls on his side to face me. His eyes are so blue I feel myself getting lost in them. I know I'm staring and I know it's obvious, and somehow it's so ridiculous that it only makes me laugh more.

My shoulders are shaking and I should stop, but it's just so crazy. Then Adam reaches for my face, and there's nothing funny about it.

His eyes go soft, and my insides curl like ribbons on a gift. I feel the ghost of his fingers on my hair. It only leaves me aching for more.

”I shouldn't even be here, you know,” he says softly.

”I know,” I say. But when he moves to leave, I take his hand. And he lets me.

”What's going on, Chloe?”

I jump away from Adam at the sound of Blake's voice. And there we are, Blake staring at me, Adam staring at Blake, and me staring at the wall, cheeks burning like someone lit them on fire.

”Chloe?” Blake prompts again.

”I called her a b.i.t.c.h,” Adam says, with a shrug that says I'm making a big deal out of nothing.

Blake and I both look at him-me in shock, Blake with disbelief. Adam just crosses his long arms across his middle again and tries to look bored.

”You called her a b.i.t.c.h,” Blake says.

Okay, I'm not sure what Blake's trying for, but if it's anger, he's missing the mark. Like way missing it, because if anything, he sounds amused. And maybe he is. I don't even care. All I care about is getting out of here. Like, now.

”Okay, I'll bite,” Blake says, giving an exaggerated shrug. ”Why would you say that?”

”She was spitting out your Goody Two-shoes c.r.a.p. And G.o.d knows she can't let it go,” Adam says, gesturing at me with something that I think is supposed to look like disgust.

Okay, everyone in this room needs acting lessons. None of us are buying any of this, but I don't see anything else for sale.

I cringe, desperate to break the awkward silence. ”I wasn't-”

Blake turns toward me, face expectant.

”You weren't being a self-righteous b.i.t.c.h?” Adam asks, his snarly tone a complete contradiction to his tense expression. ”Sure you weren't.”

”Whatever. Can we just go now, Blake?”

Blake cuts his eyes to the urinal. ”Well, if you're done here, I'd still like to use the restroom.”

If I blush any harder at this point, I'll actually become a tomato. I cover my face, shaking my head. ”Sorry. Here, I'll take your stuff and wait for you.”

Blake gives me one more look and then hands me his binder and phone. I'm shooting for the door before he's even fully let go.

Once outside, I hear Blake speak again, his voice m.u.f.fled by the door. ”Don't forget yourself, big guy. Boyfriend is my job, not yours.”

I stop short, somehow frozen by his words. Or maybe his tone. I mean, I know I'm his girlfriend. Even if I can't remember anything, I have about two hundred pictures to prove it. But there was something about his tone. Almost like he was joking.

Like us being together is a joke.

Stop it.

I shake my head because that kind of thinking really is crazy. Paranoid and neurotic and a thousand other things I should be medicated for. Blake doesn't have a malevolent bone in his body. Adam on the other hand...

But I can't think about all of his evil. I'm pretty fixated on the feel of his hand on my hair, the memory enough to make me s.h.i.+ver now. Yeah, if anybody's the bad guy in this relations.h.i.+p, it's not Blake. It's me.

As if on cue, Blake's phone buzzes in my hand. I glance at it and think about him slouched in the study room, texting under the table. Like texting a lot.

I chew the inside of my bottom lip, glancing at the lit screen out of the corner of my eye. It's absolutely wrong. An invasion of privacy and a breach of trust, not to mention how much of a stalker it makes me.

And, h.e.l.l, I'm going to do it anyway.

The message is from a number I don't recognize.

Do your job and she won't figure anything out.

Riding home with a fake boyfriend sucks under normal circ.u.mstances. But now, said boyfriend isn't just fake. He's also hiding something from me. And it's not an early Christmas present.

I'm so relieved when he pulls up to the curb beside my house that I nearly fling my door open and leap onto the curb.

”Whoa, you in a rush?”