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I thought about how Adam had looked before the elevator’s doors closed in front of me.
He wanted to come tonight.
The realization took me off-guard. The Marrs Manwhore wanted to…come to dinner? No, he couldn’t have. There were way better things the playboy could’ve done with his time. I didn’t believe it. But if I didn’t believe it so much, why was I pushing up out of my chair? Why was I weaving my way through the tables, heading to him?
“Adam?” I called. He glanced over his shoulder. “I know you probably have some…crazy party to go to tonight. I don’t know what you have planned. But I was wondering if—um—if you wanted to come have—uh—dinner with—?”
“Yeah,” he said before I’d even finished with the question. “Yeah. I could do that.”
“Are you…sure?”
But Adam already passed me, heading back towards our table. He straightened his jacket before he sat down and pulled out my seat farther when I came close. I didn’t know how to feel, all I knew was my throat was closed a little, and I was a little too embarrassed to give him the introduction he probably needed to my parents.
“So…” My mom took a sip of her drink. “You’re the potential sperm donor.”
57
Adam
Trying To Figure It Out
In terms of interesting curveballs, I’d gotten the ‘what are we’ question half a million times, but nothing compared to the question Piper’s mom presented. Fuck, that was good. I burst into laughter while my RA tripped into her chair.
“Mom.” Her mouth fell open, which just made me laugh harder. “Oh my god, we’re at a restaurant. Please. Can you just—?”
“It’s just a joke,” I assured them.
Her dad cocked his head to the side. “Young man, just a joke?”
“A good, old-fashioned prank,” I confirmed. “Your daughter leaves her phone out and I change my name. Believe me, I’m nobody’s potential sperm donor. If I could wear two condoms at the same time, I would. Nothing’s stopping my football career.”
“And your education,” her mom pointed out while Piper groaned into her hands. “What are you falling back on if your football games don’t take off? What are you majoring in?”
If your football games don’t take off.
My grin widened. We just won the Birchwood Bowl, we finished out a hundred and fifty-million-dollar campaign for it, but the way Piper’s parents were talking, I might as well have told them I was fishing for coins out of a couch for retirement. Nobody had ever grilled me like that. It was fucking hilarious.
“I’m a business major,” I said.
“Oh? And that’s what you’re passionate about?”
Piper leaned to the side with a sigh. “They’re not interrogating you, I promise. They’re always like this.”
“Carl Fontaine,” her dad suddenly said. “And we are always like this.”
“Regina Fontaine,” her mom introduced herself. “And, Piper, how am I supposed to get answers otherwise? Remember what low expectations get you? Low results. You ask people to meet your expectations. Now, mine include finding out who this young man is.”
“We enjoy getting straight to the point,” her dad confirmed. “That’s just who we are. I have no idea where Piper came from.”
Her mom patted his arm. “The mailman, dear.”
“Must’ve been. I can’t think of anything else.”
“They’re joking now,” Piper sighed. “If you can’t tell. That’s their sense of humor.”
Sloane brought the pizzas out and when she placed them up, I had her put in another order for me. A beer, another large pizza, and the entire dessert menu. At the parent’s curious glances, I held up my wallet. “Already put my card down for the bill. Don’t worry about it.”
“You did what?” Piper demanded.
