“Mmm,” Adam hummed noncommittally.
“Are you going to the wedding?” I asked him.
“Probably not.”
Everyone from the Loser’s Division was invited, even Adam. Luz threatened to rescind his invitation if “you don’t start listening to reason, Jordie.” By reason, he of course meant him.
“If you want, we can go together,” I suggested, fiddling with my phone. “It’s not as if I have a plus one.”
“I don’t think so.”
That was rude, but by then we reached my building, so I decided to give it one more try. Why? First, because I was an idiot. Second, because after spending time with him, I was Adam-addicted, Adam-deprived, and Adam-obsessed.
“Um… do you wanna come up, maybe?” I mumbled without looking at him. “I mean… like for a drink or something.”
“No, thank you,” Adam said curtly, but it sounded more like a “fuck off” than “thank you.”
I rolled my eyes, giving up. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
Once in my apartment, I slammed the door behind me, angry with both him and me. I headed to the kitchen, hoping to find more alcohol there, when I noticed a note on the fridge that I’d left for myself. The note said:Have you paid the rent?The answer to that was:No, I have not, because my dick is doing all the thinking lately.
“You’re an idiot,” I muttered, just as my doorbell rang. I pulled the wallet out of my pocket and headed toward the door, counting the bills.
“Coming,” I bellowed. “I have the rent here, Mr. Walt—”
When I opened the door, I forgot to finish my sentence because it wasn’t Mr. Walton standing on the doorstep. It was Adam Markland.
“You’re not Mr. Walton,” I blurted.
“Not the last time I checked.”
I had no idea what was happening. Did he come here for that drink after all? Unlikely. Or maybe he came here to chat. That sounded even more unlikely. Maybe he forgot to tell me something. Or maybe something happened, work-related. Or… what?
“Can I come in?” he said, cocking his eyebrow.
“Yeah, of course,” I said, realizing that I’d forgotten to invite him in. “What… ah… what’s going on?”
When I closed the door, Adam rested his hands on his hips, glancing at me. “I can’t sleep.”
Oh.
“Right,” I mumbled, lowering my gaze. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Me too,” he quipped. “This…” He looked around. “This looks nice.”
He sounded as if he expected me to live in a place filled with haunted dolls and dismembered body parts. Instead, it was a small, cozy apartment with antique furniture, not enough lamps, and too many cushions.
I rubbed the back of my neck, not knowing how to proceed.
“So, erm… can I offer you a drink?”
Adam looked out the window before turning toward me.
“Can I stay here tonight?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Can I stay here tonight?” he repeated, only to clarify. “To sleep.”
