Page 51 of Love in the Stacks
I nod as he walks away. The presentation isn’t for another couple of hours, but I know he’s nervous about it. Interesting how the tables have turned. Adam, who’s calm and collected in most situations, dreads this presentation. And while I worry incessantly about almost everything in my life, I feel confident about the presentation. I know my stuff and that people will find it valuable.
And dressing to impress helps a lot. I’m wearing black and white plaid, tweed-style dress pants that fit me like a glove without being uncomfortable (elastic waistband for the win!). My shirt is a rose gold-colored V-neck with a Swiss dot pattern and ruffle sleeves. On my feet are my favorite silver ballet flats. I feel confident in this outfit—it’s professional, but feminine, and comfortable so I won’t be fiddling with my clothes instead of focusing on the presentation. I look good.
I wonder if Adam noticed, the unhelpful voice in my head asks. As usual, I ignore it.
When Adam is outside the automatic doors, Molly turns to me, and we walk toward one of the couches in the lobby. “So…” she says, and I brace myself.
“So…” I echo as we sit.
“You never mentioned how handsome Adam is. As a matter of fact, I believe you actually texted that he isnotcute.” She smirks at me knowingly.
Did I? I try to remember as I take a sip of my latte. Was there a time when I didn’t appreciate the way his hair falls across his forehead, no matter how hard he tries to keep it combed back? When I didn’t look into his honey brown eyes and find myself drowning a little? Or notice the lean strength of his arms? No, he’s definitely attractive. A fact I can ignore less and less the more I spend time with him and the more I get to know him.
I shrug. “So, he’s cute,” I say defensively. “So what?”
“So, seems like there’s more to him than just cute. What happened on the drive over here? You texted about car troubles.” She nudges my hand for a sip of my latte, so I hand her the cup.
I tell Molly everything about the drive to New Orleans. She’s jealous about the Buc-ee’s—there aren’t any in Louisiana. She gasps when I describe hitting the piece of metal and hugs me as I confess to the panic attack. The look in her eyes shifts from concern to interest when I tell her how much I shared with Adam at the auto shop. I even tell her about the time he and I have been spending together at the conference—how he carried my books and how we’ve been eating every meal together.
“Oh my gosh, Nicole, this is the cutest falling in love story I’ve ever heard.” Molly gushes when I’ve finished.
“Pssh,” I protest. “No, we’re just coworkers.” Molly looks at me with her eyebrows raised. “Friends,” I amend. “Work friends. Work friend type people. That’s all.”
“Why do you insist on friend-zoning this man? Because all I see are green flags.”
“I’m not friend-zoning him, it’s just friendly is all I feel toward him.”
Molly arches her eyebrow. I huff out a breath. “Okay,” I say. “So, it’s the kind of opposite gender friendship that would make our significant others uncomfortable if we had them, but still just friendship.”
Molly clicks her tongue in disbelief. “Friendship isnotall he feels for you, I can tell you that right now. Everything you’ve told me? He’s showing you he wants more.”
I sigh. “And that’s a problem. Look, I can’t like Adam, because he likes me, which means I don’t like him.”
“Um, what?” Her eyebrows pinch together above her round glasses.
“I’ve made some pretty bad choices in the past with men,” I say. Molly’s face softens. “And they all started when a guy I would have never really considered said he was interested in me. I need to be into a man because of who he is, not because he was into me first.”
Molly takes my hand. “I hear you, and I know Steven really hurt you. I can understand how that experience would make you hesitant to trust your heart to someone new. But those were his issues, not yours. Nicole, are you sure what you’re feeling is just because he likes you? I mean, can you list things about Adam that you like, things that make him a good man and would make him a great partner?”
Of course I can. Easily. It would be a long list. But I can’t let my brain go there. I just don’t trust myself. I shake my head.
Molly bites her lip and haltingly says, “Are you sure … you’re not taking advantage of Adam?”
My eyes jump up to hers. “What?” I croak out.
“You know he likes you. Despite what yousay, you like him, too, and I have to wonder if you’re maybe sending him nonverbal signals that might be confusing if you don’t actually want to date him?” Molly’s eyes are soft, but her words hit my heart like anOxford English Dictionaryto the toe.
“Am I?” I whisper. My unfocused gaze blurs all the more as I internally reel through my interactions with Adam over the last few months.
“I don’t know, Nicole, but if you truly don’t want to date Adam, you need to have a frank conversation with him about it. It’s not fair to string him along.”
Have I been stringing Adam along? I haven’t meant to. I shake my head. “Mol, let’s just forget it, okay? Let’s talk about something else.”
She hesitates. Then she nods. “Sure,” she says with a tight-lipped smile. “Tell me more about your presentation.”
Molly and I arrive at the conference center with time to spare before the presentation. The session before ours in the room we’ve been assigned seems to have finished early. I peek through the door to see Adam at the front of the room getting a laptop situated and connected to the display screen. I step forward to help him, but Molly pulls me back.
“What do you think about asking Adam to join us for dinner?” she asks.
