Page 122 of Again, In Autumn

Is he saying what I think he’s saying? My body burns under the x-ray vision of his eyes.

“I’ll visit any time if I have a reason,” he finishes with tight lips.

This is my opening to…what? Tell him that I find him as attractive, funny, warm and mine as I ever did. That all week I’ve dreamed of curling up in his arms and listening to him tell a wild story about his travels.

I begin, “Adam, I –”

“Yes?” He begs with his eyes, his hand sliding along the counter until it’s beyond me, his arm and body caging me close to him.

“Um…” I look at the bare cookies and whimper, “I need to ice those.”

Chicken.

He hangs his head, peeling himself away from me. Pained, he mutters, “Yep. Okay.”

I pick up a cooling rack. He picks up a cooling rack.

I’ll tell him later.

Maybe.

He follows my lead and sets the cookies out over the table.

Me and Adam at a Braves’ game. Me and Adam walking through the botanical gardens. Me showing Adam where Margaret Mitchell got hit by a taxicab.

At first, I didn’t think Adam wanted me, then I thought he hated me, and then I figured I wasn’t enough for him. I’m not stupid. He’s been flirty and consistent about it. It’s just not as easy as casually getting to know each other or long-distance dating. I already know bits and pieces of him, intimately, and we have this heavy history.

Pushing him away with morning won’t be the end of it, I see that now. We’re roommates, a twist I didn’t anticipate at dawn. Staying away from him is impossible.

I can’t get into a big conversation about feelings and futures and all of that when he’s about to go play a mini-concert and I need steady hands. I sigh, trying to relax my body. We can talk about it later. We have all night, one bedroom, to talk about it later. Whatever it reveals itself to be.

I clear my throat, returning to business. I pick up the green icing and trace the outline of one circle, flooding it in with color. The sides of my hair fall in the way.

“I can hold your hair back,” Adam presents, pulling my hair into a ponytail he holds with one hand.

I laugh, trying to rotate my head like I need to, reaching to different cookies and coloring some of them green, some purple. “I can’t move!”

“Here.” He tucked the ends of my hair in the back neckline of my dress.

“Thank you.”

I paint some of the cookies with orange paint and others with yellow. I draw pumpkins and sunflowers with the icing, letting some dry while I work on others, then returning to add more detail.

Adam leans on his elbows and makes a surprised noise. “Wow, Vee. That’s amazing.”

I slowly add flowers and details that match the ambiance and color scheme of the inn. With a slow and steady hand, I write GEMSTONE INN to several of them with black piping.

He adds, “I’ve seen your stuff on Instagram and it’s so good, but it’s wild to see you do this in person.”

“You’ve looked me up on Instagram?” I twist my head to see his face turn lightly pink.

“Of course.” Adam looks at his watch. “Hey, I’m going to change my clothes and head down to get ready. I told Mac I’d play a short set at 8:30ish.”

“Okay.”

“Are you coming down?”

“To listen to you play?” I smile at the wonder in his voice.

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