“No. No. Okay, this is probably going to be even more weird, and maybe even seem creepy, and I promise that it’s not. But…” He glances up at me, a hand on his head, ruffling his hair in a variety of directions. “Right. You work at the library. You literally work at the library.”
I push up into a sitting position. “You’re wrong. This actually seems very creepy, in addition to weird. Can you tell me what’s happening in your brain right now? I’m beginning to fear it’s an aneurysm or something.”
He sits on the bed next to me, drawing one leg up so he can face me. He places his phone on the nightstand and says, “Ahh—so by any chance, are you trying to figure out if there is a secret lair under St. Theresa’s?”
I tilt my head at him. “Well…yes. But how—” I look around, as though the answers I’m looking for are scattered in midair like emerald-winged hummingbirds. I told Sage I was curious about the architecture at St. Theresa’s, but she has no idea I’m actually planning an investigative trip there in the near future. The only one who knows that is…
“Oh!” I turn toward him and lean forward. I don’t know why I am being so intense but…I guess, this is an incredibly intense conversation. Maybe one of the most intense of my life. “Holy shit. You’re—”
“Username @tryingsomethingnew?” he finishes with a sheepish smile. “That what you were going to say?”
I can’t bring myself to smile back. I need a direct response so I can begin to thoroughly process this ridiculously wild turn of events. “Adam, answer the question: Are you seriously the guy I’ve been chatting with on Matchmakr?”
He sighs through his smile. “I’m the guy you’ve been chatting with on Matchmakr.” He shakes his head. “What are the chances, right? That not only were we both from Cranberry…but that it was also…”
“Us,” I finish. I look around with wide eyes. These chances are actually astronomical, which always indicates to me the old gods must’ve had some hand in it. I file the thought away to be investigated later. “And. You figured it out. By…seeing me on my bed…”
“The photos you sent me. The way your hair was against your shoulders. Near your…” He gestures to my chest, then turnsbright red so fast, I wonder if someone could faint from blushing so furiously. He definitely shouldn’t stand up anytime soon. “I mean. You know.”
I snort. “Yeah, I know.”
“And the comforter. The sticks, the berries. I looked at that photo…” Somehow he’s gotten even redder. “For a while. You’re…uh…you’re very compelling.”
It hits me that he also sent me a photo. Him lying back on the bed, his broad shoulders relaxed on the bed, his chest hair, ready for my hands to run through it…
I blink when I remember something. Something incredibly important. “But—you met someone. You…” My heart sinks and my voice rises in pitch just a little bit. “There’s someone else you want.”
Adam shakes his head slowly and smiles at me. “There’s no one else I want, Sky.”
That kind of sounds like he means me. I can’t help my gasp when what he says clicks. He does mean me…doesn’t he? God, indirect language is difficult, especially during highly emotional conversations like these. “You mean…”
He nods. “You’re the woman I was talking about.”
I am processing this whole exchange so slowly. But I can’t help it. I’m overstimulated—my heart is beating fast. My breath is a little bit too shallow. If I lifted my hands, I bet they’d tremble from my nerves right now. “But…Adam.I’mme.” It’s not articulate, but it’s the shortest way I can convey the barrage of thoughts slamming around in my brain like ongoing collisions of high-speed trains.
He tilts his head and frowns. “What does that mean?”
I shake my head again. “It means…why would someone like you want me? Besides, you know. Pure physical attraction from close proximity in the last couple of weeks.”
Adam blinks and his jaw clenches. “Is that what you think has been happening between us? Pure physical attraction? Is that…what this is for you?”
I shake my head emphatically. “Of course it isn’t. I…what I feel for you is a lot more and a lot deeper than just what’s physical between us. But you. And me. Does that make sense to you? I mean, be for real, Adam. You are so accomplished and educated and worldly. And I’m the girl no one wants to even be seen with.” My arms and hands are flying around for emphasis, but I think all these gestures are just making me look like a drunk octopus, so I try and sit on my hands instead. “Because of what happened to me, I have almost no experience with literally anything. I’ve only had one job. I’ve never left Cranberry before. And…I’ve only had sex three times before, when I was a teenager. So I’mmassivelybehind you in that department, too.” I swallow and look away. If he’s giving me a look of pity, I’m not going to be able to take it without bursting into tears. And I really,reallydon’t want to burst into tears right now. “I’m the crazy woman who speaks with animals. Who spent eight years in a strange, inexplicable coma. Who you’re writing a piece on. That’s…that’s who I am to you, ultimately.”
“Is that what you think?” Adam’s voice is a little bit hoarse, as though what I’ve said has made him a bit emotional, too. When I dare to glance at him, he’s staring at me so intensely, his eyes look like the blue of the hottest part of candle flames. “Jesus. If that’s what you think…I’ve been doing this all wrong.”
“Doing what all wrong?” I ask.
He swallows. “Trying to get you to understand what I’m feeling…without actually saying it directly, I guess.”
I shake my head. “I don’t do well with indirect.”
He nods. “I’m figuring that out now.”
“Sorry,” I supply, because I know that most people find directness to not be exactly the most desirable quality in a person, much less someone to have feelings for.
“Please don’t be. Please. I’m trying to figure out the words for you. Just give me a few seconds, okay? I need the words to be perfect.” He closes his eyes and takes a big shuddering breath. When he opens them, he looks at me up and down slowly, a little bit lusty, sure, but also like I’m something kind of…precious to him. Which feels strange and new.Verystrange and new.
“Sky. I can’t believe that you think that I think you are in anyway deficient. And I’m not saying this to shame you because you came to that conclusion. That’s on me, actually. I’m so sorry I have behaved in a way that supported that conclusion.” I open my mouth to speak, to tell him there is no need to apologize, but he’s already on his next sentence. “When I look at you, I see a woman who is kind and caring and brave. So fucking brave. What this town has put you through…the fact that you aren’t constantly bitter and resentful is a testament to your strength and decency.”
