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It wasn’t just that I was wrong about first kisses. I mean, that hurt, but that wasn’t what made my eyes stray from the football players working their conditioning drills. It was that…if first kisses weren’t magic…what else did that say? Soul connections weren’t real?
There wasn’t someone out there who was perfect for me?
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I glanced back down at the field, at Adam, gazing right up at me in the middle of the tip drills.
He must be so smug about it.
One of the coaches blew their whistle at him, and Adam swung back into practice.
I have to figure out something to say.
After practice, the guys filed into the locker room and I hung out in the hallway, trying to let out all the disappointment before Adam could see me. Before he’d make jokes about it.
The door pushed open and there he was.
He barely dried himself off in the shower, water dripped from his hair. The jersey was gone and in its place, was a pair of jeans and his Marrs hoodie, all of which looked too good on the man who kissed me and tore up any fantasies I had on the universe having meaning in love.
I clasped my arms behind my body. “Okay. You were right.”
Adam was silent. He wasn’t gloating and preening his feathers, grinning down at me, demanding to know when the Marrs Manwhore had ever in his entire glorious life been wrong, and how could I have doubted him?
Other football players passed behind him but he didn’t move out of their way.
“Right about what?” he said quietly.
He’s going to drag this out.
I sighed and started walking down the hallway. His footsteps followed behind. We could take this conversation away from his teammates.
“There’s no such thing as soul connections,” I threw over my shoulder. “You can laugh now. Go ahead.”
Adam was silent.
He could hold on to the card as long as he wanted, it’d pop back up eventually. Naïve little Piper didn’t know anything about anything. She believed in fairy tales. And, of course, Adam knew better.
It was all about technique. That’s all it was.
Because there was no way Adam could be anybody’s soul connection. The man physically repelled monogamy if it got within a five-foot radius of him. He once told me if he ever got caught cuddling with someone, it was because he was shot, bleeding out on the bed, unable to move.
“I don’t think it’s as cut and dry as that,” Adam finally said, his voice low.
I waited for the punchline, but nothing came. “No, you were right,” I said. “I was wrong. If you want to record it, bring out your phone. Adam was right. Piper’s wrong. I’m not saying it again.”
“Maybe…” He hesitated. “I don’t know. Piper, I don’t want you to…get hurt and think that just because you have a good kiss with someone, that means they can’t hurt you.” There was a pause and he shook his head. “But I think it’s more complicated than that. Maybe there are connections. I don’t know.”
I sighed. “You don’t have to spare my feelings.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better—I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe I am. I don’t know.”
For a moment, the hallway was quiet, and I understood. Adam was trying to protect me. He didn’t want me to think that just because a guy could give me butterflies meant that he was the guy for me. Which hurt but…it was necessary. Because he was right. I was wrong.
No soul connections. No true love.
The sound of sneakers hurried down the hall as Zariah jogged up to us. “Piper! Adam!”
Adam muttered under his breath but I turned to face her. Thank goodness, I needed some kind of distraction.
She held up thin slices of paper in her hands. “I have hockey tickets!”
