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"Wow." The moment he set me down, I stood on unsteady legs and had to grab the counter. "You had so many girls go through here, you had makeup wipes? How did I not know about this?"
"Check it out."
He stood in front of the mirror, unbuttoning his dress shirt, but I had the weirdest feeling he was watching me while I pulled open the drawer. Instantly, I stared. Confused.
"Adam?"
"I love you."
I glanced up at the mirror, perplexed. "What…is this?"
"What’s what?"
I gestured towards the drawer and picked up the hairbrush, covered in glittery, plastic fish scales—my hairbrush. The hairbrush that I definitely last saw on my counter in my dorm. The hairbrush that Adam teased me about all semester. "What is this?"
"A hairbrush?"
"It’s my hairbrush."
"Nope. Don’t think so." Adam took it from me and inspected it. "There’s no blonde hair on this."
The entire first drawer was full of everything from my bathroom. The night creams, the face washes, my packet of multi-colored hair ties, everything. I finally pieced it together, stunned. "Did you buy duplicates?"
"If a man wants his lady to stay over, he has to be prepared."
All the arguments in the world bubbled up. I turned back to him, ready to get into it. Too expensive. A waste of money. He didn’t need to put in the effort. It was too much. But Adam just grinned down at me, pleased. And I found that I couldn’t say anything about his treasure trove.
"I love you," I finally sighed. "I do."
He dipped down low and kissed my ear. "Do you love me enough to take a shower with me?"
"Just a shower?"
"Nah." Adam kissed me and took my hand, drawing me towards the shower. "It’d be a wasted opportunity not to fuck you again before we get you cleaned up."
95
Adam
How Stupid Can You Be?
I wasn’t like any of the lovesick idiots on the team that trailed behind their girlfriends like she had a leash around their neck.
I was worse.
Piper’s job still depended on us keeping quiet, and I’d do that for her but I still changed my lock screen to a cropped picture of her in my car and I finally convinced her to add pictures of the two of us in her collection, tacked up on her wall. The second we were in the clear, I had her hand in mine, I had her in my lap, I had her hair tangled up between my fingers, my lips on her throat, touching her.
Nobody ever talks about how hard it is not to touch someone you want to touch forever. Or how shitty it is to wait for your girlfriend while she’s in coding workshops or RA meetings. Or how difficult it is to pretend like you’re not counting down the minutes.
Captivated beyond reason. Hooked and no way out. Pathetically lovesick.
I would’ve laughed at myself at the beginning of the semester but that dude had been one miserable fuck. He was welcome to stay in the past, hunkered down in himself, bitter as shit, while the present me was happy to tell my girlfriend that I loved her when she muttered under her breath at my kitchen bar, trying to finish a coding project in her sweats.
When Ryan pulled me aside to tell me that we needed an emergency meeting about Coach Lawson’s stepdaughter transferring, I burst into laughter.
"Tell those freshmen to keep their hands to themselves," I snickered.
Ryan’s frown deepened. "Adam, if you so much as look her way—"
