Is he asking me on a date?I wondered.
“I’ve got something to tell you, about Harry. You asked me before how I knew he wasn’t good to women and, well, I want to tell you. But not here. It’s too dangerous.”
“This isn’t a spy movie, Adam,” I sighed, gesturing to our section of the gym. It was empty. The closest person was at the free-weights section, a good ten feet away.
“Please,” he whispered, squeezing his hands together tightly. I could tell how nervous he was and how much courage it had taken him to approach me. I guess he doesn’t approach women very often. “You’llwantto hear this, believe me.”
“Okay,” I said.
Screw it.
If Harry heard about it, I reasoned, then that would work in my favor. Let him get jealous about something real, not make-believe.
It’ll all be part of the game.
Because thisisall still a game … isn’t it?
“Okay, yay!” Adam beamed, seeming like a smitten teenager. “That’s just great. Maybe I can take you to the taco place down the street? Have you been to there? It’s really great.” He smiled warmly. “This is going to be fantastic.”
I couldn’t help but smile in return, the same way I would at a little brother. His enthusiasm was infectious.
“Okay, then it’s settled,” I said. “Though, I have to admit, this secrecy isn’t exactly fun for me.”
“I know,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead and then immediately fidgeting his hands together again. “But I promise, it will be worth it.”
Now, at the desk, I move the cursor over the blog post’s title.
The Truth about Harry Hadley.
I bite my lip, wishing it didn’t have to be like this.
But he started it.
He’s the one who flew way, way off the handle.
If he wants to burn bridges, heck, he’s going to have to be the one to start rebuilding them, too.
***
El Cucuyis a Day of the Dead-themed taco place with big colorful sombreros hanging from the walls. The cushioning of the booth seats is multicolored, too, and so are the tiles and the counter surfaces. Everything is purple and pink and white, orange and red and yellow, so that when I walk in I wish I’d brought some fricking sunglasses.
The atmosphere of the place is pretty chilled out, though. Pop music plays quietly in the background and it’s relatively quiet at this time of the day.
I look around for Adam, who said he’d be here at half past twelve. He wanted to drive me, but I told him I’d bring my own car. Even if part of me wants to make Harry jealous, I don’t really like the idea of going on a date with Adam.
The truth is – and I’d never tell jerk-off Harry this – that the idea of being with anybody except my childhood sweetheart turns me off bigtime, and not just physically. I’ve got a connection with him unlike I’ve ever had before. I don’t want anybody else.
But Harry doesn’t have to know that.
Sure, maybe this is childish of me, but I don’t really care right now. Sometimes you’ve got to treat love like it’s a war, and play dirty.
I spot Adam in the corner of the restaurant. I didn’t recognize him before because he’s wearing a big fire-engine-red sombrero. He waves over with a boyish grin on his face.
“Hey, Grace.” He beams as I approach. “I ordered us some nachos to start. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say.
“A drink,señorita?” Adam laughs, pronouncing the Spanish word with slow careful syllables.
