“I was just showing Adam some pictures. He asked what you were like as a kid.” My mom doesn’t look at me, instead, she flips the page to the next collection of pictures. “And here, we set up the sprinkler in the yard, and instead of running through it, he kept drinking out of it.”
“I was like five, Mom. You should have prevented me from doing that. Lead poisoning is real.”
“He was such a cute kid, but he’s handsome now,” Adam remarks to my mom, and my face heats. The compliment sinks in and makes a home in my heart. I shouldn’t care how he thinks I look.
But when he looks over his shoulder, his eyes appraise me, taking in my full outfit. I preen under his attention.
My dad decides to join in when he comes in from the garage. “That’s my favorite picture of him.” His thick fingers press against the protective sheet covering the photo. “His mom bought him that book, and he refused to do anything without it. That book went everywhere with us.” His tone is nostalgic, and I realize I haven’t changed much since I was a kid. Emotional support books then and now.
“What book was it?” Adam asks, curiosity lining his face. His blue eyes stare me down, making me flush harder under his attention.
“Where the Wild Things Are,” I murmur, walking closer to examine the books with them. If I see one embarrassing picture,I’m taking the album and hiding it so they can’t look through it anymore.
“I’ve never read it.”
I stand between him and my mom, not because I want to be close to him, but because this is the best place to be able to see the pictures. His freshly washed hair is damp, the longer strands on top starting to curl the slightest bit.
“You should read it, it’s a classic.”
“We still have it here somewhere, but not the copy he carried around because he lost it one day at the zoo. He refused to carry the replacement, he knew it wasn’this,” my mom says, scooting back from our kitchen table and going in search of the book.
“You can tell her no,” I say quietly, not wanting my dad to hear me from where he’s sitting across the table, reading something on his phone.
“Why would I tell her no?”
“Because it’s a kids’ book, and I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, but you’re not a child,” I snark, stepping closer to the table again, against my will. My body is demanding I be around him, that’s all it is. My body wanted to be close to this hot guy who just had his lips on mine a few hours ago.
“I’m not a kid, no. But I didn’t have the same experiences that normal kids did. Is it a bad thing that I want to know what your childhood was like?”
He can’t say things like that, things that make me feel bad for him and want to know exactly what happened when he was a child to make him the way he is today. Was it his father’s death? Sometimes grief can be a hard thing to process.
My heart breaks for the little boy inside Adam who wants a normal childhood and is even willing to go as far as to listen to my mom as she talks about what I was like. And the pictures of me as a child… Those are embarrassing, but if it makes him feel better, I guess I can allow it.
“I’ll read it to you,” I offer, because my mom used to read it to me before bed every night. He might think it’s dumb and childish, but maybe this will help him.
Then he won’t feel the need to be horrible to other people, including his girlfriend. But not me, though. I mean, he was horrible to me, but a switch inside him seems to have flipped because the man in front of me now is not the same one from yesterday.
I should hate it and hate him. I told him I never wanted to see him again after this weekend, but what if he really needs a friend, and that’s why he’s acting this way?
I can fix him. I can’t offer much, but I can be nice and helpful and supportive. That’s all a friendship should be. After everyone goes to bed tonight, we’ll talk about our boundaries.
“Okay, here it is, Adam. I really hope you enjoy it. My parents used to read it to me, so it was important to share that with Hunter. I’m glad we can share it with you as well.” My mom extends the book in her hand toward Adam, and he grabs the edge of it, tucking it in close to his chest.
“I’ll cherish it, Mrs. Collins.” My mom waves her hand around.
“None of that. Mrs. Collins was my mother-in-law. Call me Cheryl.” Adam smiles, and my mom leans down to wrap Adam in a side hug. Was I transported to an alternate universe? Why is my mom hugging him, and why am I getting jealous because I want to be the one to hold him and comfort him? Even if that isn’t my place.
My dad stands up, slapping his hands on his knees and announcing to the group that it’s time to leave.
“We’re still waiting on Danielle,” I speak up, while Adam leaves the book on the pillow he slept on last night. The slight divot from his head is still visible.
“I’m ready,” Danielle says, coming around the corner looking cute and casual in a floral-printed crop top and ripped, black skinny jeans. Her hair is tucked back into a braid, showing off her elvish features—her cute button nose, and slightly pointed ears.
We all pile into the car, with me sitting in the center between Danielle and Adam, and the forced proximity is uncomfortable. I can feel the heat from Adam’s body seeping into me through the contact of our thighs pressing together. His fingers are in his lap, drumming out a random rhythm.
“Are you okay sitting back here? We can drive separately from my parents,” I offer, looking at Danielle. Her attention is focused out the window.
“No, I’m okay. It’s not far, is it?” she asks.
