I look at my desk and see the architecture book I had been so engrossed in only a couple days ago. I shrug and push it aside. I don’t know why, but finding out what was happening under St. Theresa’s Catholic Church for Wanderers and Pilgrims doesn’t feel so urgent right now. I guess maybe my brain can only handle so many exciting things at once. And right now, Adam is taking precedence. And I wouldn’t change the Brain Priorities List even if I could. I just…want Adam.
All I do at work is think about how much I want him. As I categorize books, I also categorize all the sexual positions I know, and make note to research more later. As I read through some annoying paperwork, my mind drifts off to think about whether Adam would enjoy an ass-eating, like apparently Carter does. I think about the sounds Adam might make, similar to all the ways he groaned andmoaned every time we touched yesterday, and yup, just like that, I’m wet. I squeeze my thighs together and shake my head.
How can I focus on anything when Adam Noemi is officially mine? And we’re going on a date tomorrow? And are banging for the first time afterward?
I barely manage to make it through the workday and wonder how on earth anyone gets anything done when they have a partner as hot and as lovely as Adam Noemi.
Throughout the beginning of myworkweek, there are many things I ignore in addition to my previous church investigation. One is the increasing number of text messages Amá Sonya sends me, each one more morbid than the last.I am your only grandmother and we all know I will not be around much longer. You need to go on a date with someone I approve of at least once.After that, she wrote:COYOTES??And the last text is simply:I suppose I must come to you. But if it comes down to that, you might have regrets. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I send Teal a screenshot of all the texts and write,Please tell her, in the kindest way possible, to leave me the fuck alone.Teal sends a thumbs-up with anOn it, and then reminds me about her art opening this coming weekend. I’d nearly forgotten, so I pencil it in my planner right away, then text Adam to invite him.I’d love tois what he writes back.
Tuesday comes a lot quicker than I expected, considering all the daydreaming and humming and smiling to myself I’ve been doing. I get off work at three, then look in my closet for what feels like an age, wondering what on earth to wear for my first official, real date with Adam.
I decide on a little black dress that fits me like a glove, emphasizing the curves of my hips and ass, featuring a square neckline that is high and elegant. It reaches my midthigh and has a small slit that reveals my brown, moisturized skin, so the skirt is a little bit slutty. Slutty and elegant. That’s me. I contain multitudes.
I pin up my hair according to a Pinterest tutorial promising to make me look like I’m an elven princess, put on smoky eye shadow and pink lipstick, and spray on a perfume that smells like autumn to me, the most romantic season, with notes of pumpkin, nutmeg, and coffee.
I’m slipping on Mary Janes at the door when Adam knocks. I open it and give him the biggest smile as I jump on him to hug him.
“Whoa,” he says, laughing as he slides his hands under my ass to hold me up against him. “Wow. What a greeting.” I slide back down him and he takes a step back. “And wow. You’re so fucking gorgeous. Look at you.”
I turn around, giggling. “It’s Calvin Klein. My grandmother got it for me, but she said I would need to get the skirt redone by a tailor to have it go to my knees.”
“I’m glad you ignored the advice.” He gives me a long look of approval.
“You look handsome,” I say shyly. He had put on a forest green dress shirt with black slacks and shoes. “I love green on you.”
“Yeah?” He gives me a half smile. “My mother told me green was our color. Because of our red hair.”
“You got your red hair from her?”
He nods. “Yup. Me and all my siblings. And my dad’s hair is black. You’d never think red was recessive with the way it tookover our family. Only one of my sixteen nieces and nephews has dark hair. The rest, all different shades of red.”
“Maybe your mom had the rare dominant redhead gene,” I say as I shut and lock the door behind me.
Adam chuckles. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“So where are we going?” I ask after we settle in his car.
“That depends.” He glances my way. “How do you feel about seafood?”
“Some of it is weird. I don’t like the slimy sorts. But I love the other ones.”
He grins at me. “What are the slimy sorts?”
I scrunch up my nose. “You know. Anything in a shell. Like oysters?”
“Ah, yeah.” He nods. “Slimy definitely describes oysters. What are some dishes you love?”
I shrug. “I love blackened fish. Grilled fish. To me, crab is a little bit slimy sometimes, but crab cakes are good.”
“I see. So you have strong opinions on texture.” He frowns and nods. “Well, they have a steakhouse downtown called Jackson’s. I don’t know why it’s called a steakhouse when most of the menu is seafood. You ever been?”
I shake my head. Jackson’s Steakhouse is one of the most popular restaurants in Cranberry. I’ve certainly had many reasons to prefer the woods since my return from the oak tree.
Adam grabs my hand. “Does that sound okay? You want to go there?”
I hesitate for a moment and say, “Sure. I’m sure that will be fine.”
