Calm Like Home (9 page)

He stands there an instant before coming in, a grocery bag dangling from his fingertips. I cock my head to the side and study him quizzically.

“I'm making you dinner,” he says resolutely.

“You're what?”

“You heard me.” He steps closer to me. “I'm. Making. You. Dinner.” He annunciates the words, bringing his face closer to mine with each one until he’s directly in front of me. His lips brush over mine and my body presses to his, craving his touch. It’s only been since last night, and yet it feels like I haven’t seen him in ages. His left hand comes up to knot in my hair as the right one drops the grocery bag to the floor.

“Well maybe in a few minutes I'm making you dinner,” he says in a gravelly voice, turning and backing me up until my shoulders are pressed against the door, clicking it shut.

He tips my head back, placing light kisses on the underside of my chin. I groan contentedly as his lips connect with the sensitive skin. I’ve never been kissed there, never known how amazing it would feel. His fingers loop under the thin strap of my tank top, tugging it to the side and over my shoulder. His lips follow after his touch, softly planting kisses on the already primed skin. As his lips near the end of my shoulder, his fingers move to the other side, smoothly brushing the strap aside until they both hang loosely at the tops of my arms, the tank barely clinging on. I tilt my head back, giving him full access to my neck and shoulders and half-bared chest. I feel feverish under his touch, aching for more.

His hands graze over my arms, the fabric of my tank top falling the rest of the way down until it pools around my waist. Then he’s pulling me down to the living room floor, stretching his long body over mine, the full weight of him pressing over me. An intense need burns within me, my whole body consumed with yearning until finally every last inch of his bare skin is flush against mine. He is warm and heavy and rhythmic, and I get lost in it, become fully entranced by the light touch of his fingertips, the cinnamon sweet taste of his lips on mine. I completely absorb into him until he is all I think and all I feel and all I see.

“Now I really am making you dinner,” Adam chuckles, placing a kiss on my forehead and grabbing the plastic bag up off the floor. “Oh shit, I completely forgot about this!”

He removes a carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream from the bag and heads for the freezer. I follow him into the kitchen and push myself up on the counter to watch him work.

“All right, Westbrook, I'm intrigued. What’re you making me?”

He comes to stand in front of me and I snake my legs around him, pulling him closer.

“I’m a one trick pony. I've got one meal I can make. That's it.” He kisses me firmly before stepping away.

“Let's hear it.”

“You'll see.”

His expression is pure mischief, lips smirking, eyes alight. He rubs his hands together and begins rummaging through the cabinets. I relax back on the counter, watching the muscles in his chest and arms flex as he opens the various drawers and cupboards. I can’t pull my eyes away. The man should seriously be required to do everything shirtless. A smile graces his lips when he spots what he’s looking for. He takes out a pot and fills it with water before setting it on the burner. Next he retrieves a package of hotdogs from the plastic grocery bag and begins cutting them into thin, precise slices.

Playful brown eyes meet mine. “You have to get the Nathan's, Clausen. Don't forget that. They’re essential.”

“Got it. I'm making a mental note. Nathan's are key.”

“Tell me you have spices.”

I nod and point to the cabinet by the fridge. He studies the labels and pulls out a few.

“This should work,” I hear him say, more to himself than me. He pours macaroni noodles into the now boiling water and then begins seasoning the hot dog slices, sprinkling them with Italian seasoning, garlic powder, and black pepper. As they simmer he carefully turns each one with a fork so they brown evenly. I’ve never seen him concentrate so hard on anything… well, other than me.

He catches me watching him and grins. “Take it all in, Lex. I may only make one thing, but I make it damn well.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “It's not every day a gorgeous man shows up wanting to make me a home-cooked meal. I was just going to eat pizza rolls or something.”

“You've seriously got to raise your standards.”

I burst out laughing, “Yeah, box macaroni is a huge step up.”

He shakes his head, chuckling, and comes to stand in front of me. “Laugh it up but we're going to eat like kings. This is gourmet shit right here.”

“I'm already impressed. I just watched you season hotdogs,” I tease.

He pokes me in my side and I squeal, wrapping my arms around his neck and clasping my legs around his torso. He pulls me off the counter and presses his mouth to mine, lighting me up entirely.

I stare deep into his eyes and tell him in all seriousness, “I really am impressed you’re cooking dinner for me. Thank you, Adam.”

He kisses me again then flinches like he's going to drop me, so I cry out and clutch him firmly.

He laughs at my outburst and shakes his head, “I'm not going to drop you, Lex. I'd never let anything happen to you.” His dark eyes linger on mine and I believe him, completely.

We finally relax onto my tiny gray couch to eat our meal, the stereo turned down low in the background. I take my first bite and know instantly he’s right; it’s delicious.

“Wow, Adam. I might have to get you to cook for me more often.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mumbles. “This is all I can make. Trust me, you get pretty sick of mac and cheese when it’s all you eat growing up.”

His comment and his solemn delivery catch me off guard. There’s no way he was poor growing up with both his parents being surgeons, so why was he only eating mac and cheese? “Just one thing, huh?”

He nods once, his face serious, eyes fixed on his bowl. Only he’s not eating anymore, just absently poking at the contents. He finally glances up at me, catching a glimpse of the questions in my eyes. He shrugs his shoulders and returns his gaze to the bowl. “I was on my own a lot and had to learn to make something. This was it. I had years to perfect it.”

I’m surprised by the sober tone, how he keeps his eyes averted, clearly not wanting to say more. This side of Adam, the serious, reserved side, is so unfamiliar to me, only ever caught in brief, fragmented glimpses. It feels false. It feels wrong. Seeing him this way splits my heart cleanly in two, knowing there’s some
thing
that surfaces, that steals his joy. I only ever want to bring it back. To his face. To his eyes. To his heart.

I nudge him gently with my elbow and make my smile bright. “At least your hard work paid off. Now you get to reap the benefits by impressing all the ladies.”

His eyes snap to mine at hearing the playful tone return to my voice. A grin slowly creeps back onto his face. There he is.
My Adam.

When we finish he takes the bowls to the kitchen and calls out, “Now for dessert!” He returns with the tub of Ben and Jerry's wrapped in a dishtowel.
God he knows me well.
I lean my back against his chest and press into him, relishing the soft music, the feel of his skin all around me, the faint “mmm” sound he makes as the ice cream dissolves on his tongue.

We lay entwined on my couch, minutes slipping into hours, touching each other, tracing smooth lines along each other’s fingertips. The curves and contours of his body are bathed in a soft glow from the fish tank. My eyes sweep over him, soaking in all that he means to me, all that he’s become. It strikes me then, the contrast of how connected we feel with how little I actually know about him. And I want to know him. I want to know every detail. I want to
treasure
every detail.

I begin organizing facts in my brain. Listing. Numbering. Trying to add it all up.

Here’s what I know: 1. He’s one of the most amazingly radiant and caring people I’ve ever known. 2. He loves to be around people, loves to talk, but not about anything serious, and clearly not about his family. 3. Family... He has a brother, and his parents seem to be together, they’re just never around. 4. He works at Milano’s, which is strange because his parents are both surgeons. I can’t imagine anyone waiting tables for fun, even someone as friendly and outgoing as Adam. It feels like some weird twist of fate, us meeting there when he probably doesn’t even need a job.

“Hey Adam, can I ask you something?”

He shifts so he’s looking down at me. “Fire away.”

“Well, if both your parents are surgeons, why do you work at the restaurant?”

He swallows and directs his gaze towards the brightly colored fish, watches as they glide serenely through the water. His voice is barely audible when he finally replies. “I guess it started off as something to do.” He doesn’t say anything else and I’m starting to think that’s it for his explanation, but he finally goes on. “Damien started working there our sophomore year and always told me what a blast he had at work. When he offered to get me a job, I jumped on it. Figured it’d be nice to get out of the house. A way to keep busy.”

My mind flashes back to Annabelle’s comment about Adam not wanting to be alone. “So you had too much free time on your hands?”

He forces a yawn and gently says, “Let’s go to bed, Lex.” He kisses the top of my head, then takes my hand and pulls me off the couch, effectively ending my sleuthing for the night. I reluctantly follow my enigma to the bedroom, silently wishing he would open up to me but unwilling to push it any further.

I feel myself floating through my next shift at Milano’s, the overwhelming adoration I feel for Adam seeping into every action, every breath, every word. Adam exudes the same blissful haze, the same serenity. He just looks relaxed and calm and entirely happy.

Annabelle and I get cut early, so we sit at an empty table at the back of the restaurant and eat lunch together.

“What’s going on with you two?” she asks. “You’re both walking around like a couple of love-struck zombies and I never see you anymore.”

She’s right. He’s slowly consuming me, bit by bit. My time. My thoughts. My heart.

She prods on. “Does this mean you guys are
together
-together?”

“I guess...” I trail off, unsure. “I mean we haven’t really talked about it. In a way it feels like so much more than dating or talking or whatever.”

As always, my words don’t do it justice. I know I’m failing to capture the bond, the pull, the intensity between us. I wish I could tell her how we fit together, how he makes me whole, how he’s pushing me so far outside my middle ground, taking me to places I never expected I could go.

I try though. I try to tell her. Even if the words fall short, I want her to know, to have even the faintest idea of what he’s doing to me.

“Annabelle, he makes me feel things I've never felt before.”

“You mean..?” She eyes me salaciously. “You’ve pulled his hair?”

I grin sheepishly. Usually it’s her telling me about her conquests, not the other way around. I've never really wanted to tell her about being with a guy, maybe because there hasn’t been much to say. No one has been especially noteworthy. But Adam is different and being with him makes me feel open, gregarious, alive, and I
want
to tell her, maybe for the first time ever.

“Yes,” I say, meeting her eye. “And it’s lose-your-mind amazing every single time. But that's not what I meant."

She stops poking at her food. One eyebrow raises and she slightly tilts her head to the side, as if weighing what I'm really saying. Her expression is not quite shocked, not concerned, but she sees. She knows.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, shoveling pasta around my plate. “Wow.”

“Well I can't say I'm surprised.” She's smiling now, ear to ear, her face beautifully lit up. “I see it. In both of you.”

We finish eating and I’m ready to leave for the day when Adam pulls me aside in the bar.

“I have a question for you.” He looks excited, with a hopeful gleam in his eye I can’t resist. I raise my eyebrows, eager for him to go on.

“Want to come to the zoo with me? I’m hoping we might get to see some bears for
my bear
.”

The nickname melts me.
His bear
. Completely.

I race back to my apartment to quickly change. I have just enough time to throw on a skirt and tank in anticipation of the hot summer sun. When I pull the door open for Adam, his eyes instantly flick down to my skirt, his whole face lit up in a naughty grin. As we drive, he rests his hand on my thigh, lightly stroking the fabric of my skirt. At every stoplight he has to remove it to shift gears, but it always finds its way back.

When we arrive at the zoo, Adam interlocks his fingers with mine and pulls me into stride beside him, heading for the bears. Their enclosure features a large rock waterfall surrounded by a shallow wading pool. We spot several of the grizzly bears splashing in the water. They’re playing with an oversized ball near the glass of the enclosure. I tug Adam forward so we’re directly in front of them and press my hands to the glass.

“See, Adam,” I breathe, pointing at the nearest one. “Look how sweet and innocent they are. Don’t you want to get in the water and play with them?”

He wraps his arms around me from behind and growls in my ear, “I’d like to get in the water and play with you.”

I squeal and pull away from him, feigning indignation. He cocks his head sweetly to the side, eyeing me intently.

“What? It’s true!” He pulls me back against him and kisses me softly, mumbling against my mouth, “I blame the skirt.”

As we leave the bear habitat, he takes my hand to lead the way. “There’s something I want to show you,” he says simply, his eyes glimmering. “It’s uniquely suited to your tastes.”

I have no idea what he means but follow after him. We arrive at a tiny bamboo hut situated amidst an embankment of trees, the sign above it inscribed with the words
Delightfully Decadent Desserts
, which are flanked by two melting double-dip ice cream cones
.