“Hello,” he answers. I peel the stretchy nylon material over my dick and it rolls, getting tighter around my thighs, and I fight with it to get it all the way down until it falls to my ankles.
“That’s good to hear, I’m glad you called.” His tone is reserved, different from how he sounds when he’s talking to clients. Adam nods a few more times, making affirming noises every so often while he listens to the person on the other end of the line.
“Talk soon.” He pulls the phone away from his face and presses the end button.
“Who was it?” I’m nosey, sue me. But he’s mine, so the least he can do is tell me who it was.
“Danielle.” I shouldn’t have asked; those negative feelings from the past push to the forefront of my mind. The heartbreak and despair I felt when I heard them talking about me through the dorm room door feels as fresh today as it did almost nine years ago.
He hasn’t mentioned her once since we’ve reconciled, and I guess I just thought she disappeared. Or maybe that our friendship was a figment of my imagination.
Adam bundles me in his arms, our naked skin pressing together, sticky from the steam of the shower. His heart pounds in his chest, pressed against mine, sharing one pulse.
“We don’t talk much anymore, but she called because she heard news about my father’s lawyer. He and a few of their other acquaintances were caught money laundering. She thought I should know.” He spits the wordsacquaintancesout like it’s vile, acid lacing his tone as he talks about the man he’s only mentioned a time or two before.
“Is he the reason you and Danielle had to…” I trail off, not wanting to rehash the past.
“Yes, he’s the reason me and Danielle had to jump through hoops. After graduation, I got half of my inheritance. Way more than I was originally expecting, and I threatened to air out the dirty laundry I had on him. He didn’t know I was gathering up information on his backdoor deals and the other sketchy stuff he had been a part of while my father was alive.”
“And now?”
“And now he’s going to prison, like he should have all those years ago.” That’s all good and great, but not exactly what I was asking. He must sense my reticence because he says, “What’s wrong, baby?”
I shake my head, not wanting to ruin his happiness that the man who made his life difficult is finally being put away. I pull us closer to the shower, the warm air heating my skin. I step over the ledge and Adam follows my lead, still looking down at me with concern in his eyes.
He pushes back a stray lock of hair that falls across my forehead, swiping his hand across my head and resting his open palm on the back of my neck. His thick palm massages the tense knots, and I moan in appreciation. I can be happy, I can be. Iam.
Adam kisses me, his lips moving against mine sensually. I kiss him back, feeling the brush of his tongue against mine.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, pulling back and holding us both under the water. I watch as it trickles down his neck and across his chest, down to his tight ab muscles.
“Nothing, it’s fine,” I tell him, leaning in until my lips press to his neck. His pulse thumps wildly under my lips.
“It’s not fine.” I grab the soap off the alcove behind him, squeezing it onto the loofah and sudsing it up to wash his body. The streaks of bubbles coat his skin and fill the shower with his warm, masculine signature smell.
“Is it Danielle?” he guesses, and my throat closes up. I try to swallow past the lump, but it’s no use. My emotions are already haywire from the long day, coupled with Adam’s injury. Everyone has a moment when they’ve been maxed out on feelings.
“Can we not talk about it? Please?” Adam doesn’t answer, but when he takes the loofah from me and washes me with gentle hands and presses kisses to my clean skin, my throat burns.
Adam turns off the water, and I hand him his towel as we both dry off in silence. What was supposed to lead to sex has instead brought us to an awkward silence. Adam wraps the towel around his waist, tucking the side in to hold it up. I do the same and wait for his cue as to what we do now. I never feel awkwardwith Adam, he’s the one person who understands me more than anyone.
He doesn’t force me to talk, like I asked. Instead, he grabs my hand and leads me to the bedroom. Picking out clothes from the drawers he packed with our stuff, he grabs a pair of khaki shorts from the bottom, black boxer briefs, a pair of ankle socks, and a beige cotton shirt with a stack of books drawn on the front. I haven’t seen the shirt before, but he stands up, grabbing one of my arms and lifting it. I let him do the same to the other, holding both of them up as he slides the material down my arms and over my head.
Adam then untucks the towel from my waist, pulling the underwear up my thighs and then the shorts. He fastens them and then pulls the shirt over the top of the shorts so it’s not tucked into the waistband.
When he’s satisfied with the way I’m dressed, he repeats the process with his own clothes. He bends over to slide his socks on, and that’s when I’ve had enough. He does all this stuff for me and never pushes me to feel uncomfortable. I can offer him a small piece of my insecurity, and he’ll take it and fix it. That’s what he does best, fix me.
“How is she?”
“Danielle? She’s good, I guess. We don’t talk often.” He shrugs, unbothered by my question. He sits on the bed, the fluffy mattress and duvet sinking underneath his weight. He pats the spot beside him, and I sit down, stiffly, leaving both feet on the floor as I keep my attention fixed on the framed picture on the wall. The myriad of brown swirls cover the canvas and create an abstract sunrise.
“Why?” I ask, curious if he’s purposely being obtuse now.
“Why what?”
“Why don’t you talk often?” I want to reach over and shake him. And then kiss him, wanting to drop to my knees and beg him not to leave me, no matter how many issues I have.
“We grew apart, school got busy, and we decided that we really didn’t care what happened if people assumed we weren’t together anymore.”
