Page 28 of Forever Summer

Oh shit, oh shit.

I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights: so sprung, so dead. Adam’s eyes flicked to the glass, and then back to my face.

“What ya doing there, Tiger?”

I simply brought the glass to my lips, raising my brows as I sipped. I smacked my lips together in appreciation. “Mmm, want some?” I asked, but it sounded more a threat than a question, and by the look on his face he knew it. Never once did he take his eyes from me; we were stuck there frozen in a standoff, trying to predict one another’s next move.

“I think I’ll pass,” he said, a wry smile curving his lips. “But, hey, thanks for thinking of me.” His words were laced in sarcasm.

“Hey, you know I’ve always got your back,” I said sweetly.

“While holding a knife?”

“Oh, Adam, you’re so paranoid,” I said, taking another taunting sip of the water.

His eyes dipped to my mouth. “Yeah, can’t imagine why.”

And just as I was feeling like I actually had the upper hand, a knock sounded at Adam’s door; our attention lapsed for a mere moment as Ringer popped his head through the door. Adam sat bolt upright in bed. The sudden movement startled me; my natural reflex resulted in dumping the glass of water over Adam and bolting for the door.

“Right, you are DEAD!” I heard called from behind me. “Ringer, stop her.” But luckily for me, Ringer simply held his hands up in surrender, refusing to get involved as I pushed past him in the doorway, screaming. It was lucky for me, seeing as Ringer was well renowned for his 100-metre sprints; the boy was like a bloody cheetah. I ran down the hall, my bare feet gaining traction on the carpet. I dared only look back when I swung around the banister to head down the stairs. He was close; I screamed as he lunged for me, narrowly escaping as I started down, skipping every other step. I heard the apartment door open, no doubt Chris and Tammy coming to investigate the chaos. I dived into the restaurant, weaving through the tables, wishing I could tip them over like they did in the movies in order to slow down my assailant. Best I could manage was a chair, but that only did so much. I pushed through the divider and legged it into the main bar, breathless and laughing at the sight of Adam charging after me in his boxers, his hair and face still wet. The front door was dead bolted and there was no time for that; I skidded around the corner into the poolroom, and incidentally into a dead end. I ran around the pool table, thankful for the momentary barrier, allowing myself to gain my breath while my eyes locked with Adam’s on the other side.

“Looks like you’ve had a wet dream, and not the good kind,” I managed, through heaving breaths.

“More like a nightmare,” he countered, leaning on the pool table.

When I moved to the left he moved, when I moved to the right he moved. I really didn’t want to die this way. The one thing that Adam and I shared was a massive stubborn streak, the kind that could see us held up in the poolroom for days. Luckily I had a lunch date with Tammy so at least she would come looking for me if I was a no-show. Maybe she could slide a burger toward me using a pool cue.

We were locked in a standoff once more, and just like before, Ringer, who made his way casually into the poolroom, eyeing the scene with great amusement, distracted us.

“Thanks for the help,” Adam deadpanned.

“Hey, I learnt long ago not to get involved in a lovers’ spat,” Ringer joked.

Adam smirked, his usual reaction whenever the boys joked about anything Adam-and-Ellie related. He smirked because he knew they were only joking, that we weren’t like that, that saying anything along those lines wasn’t based on any actual fact. We were friends. Just. Friends.

“Christ, Ellie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ringer laughed.

I quickly blinked, thinking how every emotion in me was so readable on my face these days, and I kicked myself for not being more aware of my reactions.

“Wow, you see that, Ringer?” Adam leaned his elbows on top of the pool table, which only accentuated his abs. Oh, sweet Jesus, poker face, Ellie. Poker. Face.

“That right there is what fear looks like.”

No kidding, just not the kind he thought.

I scoffed. “Whatever.”

“You know you can’t possibly win this; I mean, you know that, right?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve already won. Ringer, do you want to grab Adam a towel? I would hate for him to catch a cold.” I pouted.

Adam’s eyes blazed in a not-so-thinly disguised look of challenge. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind as he mentally blueprinted the best tactic to make me pay. I’m not going to lie, it was kind of hot.

“Hey, Ringer.” He directed his conversation over his shoulder, but never once tore his eyes from me. “What do you think the reach of one of those post mix guns would be, you reckon?”

Ringer grinned like a cat that got the cream; so much for him not getting involved.

“Well, from personal experience, quite an impressive distance, I’d say.”

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