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“You said you didn’t want to pursue a woman.”
I step closer, my hand reaching out to hold on to his forearm. The sensation of peace and safety seems to ooze from his pores. His fingers lightly wrap around my elbow, and the touch sends rhythmic tingles up to my chest. We make twin gasping noises, our breath mingling in the few inches of air separating our lips. His eyes drop down, gaze laser-focused on my mouth.
A car driving by beeps its horn, and we both jerk.
He clears his throat, the moment shattered.
“Please get in. I’m already here.” He opens the door to the pickup.
The lamp above his head casts his face in shadows, his bones flawlessly formed together. He should be a model for toothpaste, so the camera would have to focus on his jawline.
I step into the slightly lifted truck. His seats are a soft gray fabric upholstery that’s been well maintained but is clearly old. The radio is a classic style that only plays stations, no CDs. A manual gearshift sticks up from the floor. He climbs into the driver side, slamming the door shut.
We drive in silence, the air between us tense. Slightly labored breathing is the only sound. We pass a homeless man pushing a grocery cart.
Adam gives me a side-eye that says, I can’t believe you were going to walk all the way back.
“It’s not that bad. I’ve always had to walk alone on the streets at night. You think my foster mom gave me rides after work?”
Apparently, I can’t help spewing truth around him, but I vow to keep a lid on the sob story. I notice the tendons in his driving arm flex as he pulls up to my dorm.
“Well, she sounds like a terrible mom. Will you call me next time, please?”
He turns to face me, the intimacy of the street immediately returning. I’m not going to melt at this show of concern.
“Doubtful. You aren’t my chauffeur…or my boyfriend.”
He blinks in surprise but quickly recovers.
“Do you…do you have a boyfriend?” His voice is a little strained as he asks it.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask, although I’m pretty certain of the answer.
“No, I…I don’t date. I’ve never had one.” His blatant honesty is refreshing.
“Well, you could probably have the pick of the litter with this whole chivalry-wrapped-in-muscles thing you got going on.” I smile out the window. “You just need to pick a more suitable object for your attention.” I click open the old-fashioned door handle. I could get used to being picked up in this truck.
“Why are you so against me…us maybe…being more than friends?” He holds his breath. He seems to be looking for a reason…maybe he needs me to reassure him that I don’t feel that way about him.
I lean across the narrow cab, my breasts brushing against his chest and my mouth a hair from his ear. His breath hitches, and I detect the light scent of cedar.
“You couldn’t handle me as any more than friends,” I breathe into him, his body tense.
I don’t care what he wants to hear. I slam the door on my words.
Blowing out a breath, I tell myself it’s for the best to shut him down before he gets his hopes up. Damaged isn’t something a sweet, innocent guy like him needs.
I’m in the elevator before I remember the voice mail. I pull out my phone, and my finger hovers over the delete button. It could be the financial aid office. My blood is cold when I hear a familiar voice on the recording.
“Harley, I’m glad I finally found you. The way you left things was…unacceptable. You can’t breach a contract in the middle of the terms. I trust you’ll get back to me before I have to involve the police. You have one week to call me and work this out before we seek legal action.”
Bile is rolling up my throat, and my hands start to sweat. They found my number…did they find me?
10
Adam
“Levi, you can go to the dance without actually dancing. Kenna said not to worry about not knowing the steps. We can stand on the sidelines and hang out. It’s not a sin to…watch dancing.” My voice fades a little as I realize it could be a sin, but I’m not sure.
