Page 43 of Bookworm
Our server came back, interrupting our ridiculous argument and handed Adam his credit card and the bill. He quickly scribbled a tip and his signature, then left at the corner of the table before tucking his credit card back into his wallet.
Then Adam lifted what was remaining of the toasted coconut margarita sample from his flight, long fingers gliding over the drops of condensation, then drained the rest of it.
“Hey Adam,” I said, deciding to test his blood alcohol level to the best of my ability. “Why are there no stairs in the Death Star?”
He thought for a moment, sucking his teeth. “I don’t know.”
“Because everyone uses the ele-vader.”
His face stayed blank, staring at me with squinty eyes. Then afterwaytoo long, his expression lifted and he barked a laugh. “Ele-vader!” he repeated.
Uh-oh. He was maybe a little past tipsy and more into the drunk zone.
It occurred to me that, for as well as I knew Adam when we were younger, I’d never seen him drunk. That wasn’t reallyour thing in high school. While other kids our senior year were running off to parties, Adam and I were happy to have a movie marathon night with us and a few friends.
It was a side of him I’d never seen before… and it was fascinating. Normally so put together, drunk Adam was a little on the sloppy side. Sometime through our dinner, his shirt had come slightly untucked. And his neat hair stuck out on the sides like he’d run his hands through it haphazardly one too many times.
It was adorable.
I liked messy Adam.
He made me feel a little more normal as soberly messy Harper.
And if I was being honest, he was really,reallyhot.
Leaning forward on my elbows, I grinned across the table at my date. “You’re drunk.”
The response he gave was a cross between a snort andPssshhh.“Am not.You’redrunker.”
“Which one is it? Are you not drunk? Or am I drunker?”
He thought for a moment before answering. “I think neither.”
“Which means?”
“Do you know what kind of a car a Jedi drives?” He didn’t wait for me to respond before blurting out, “A ToyYODA! Get it? Toy Yoda.”
He snickered at himself, then lifted the empty margarita to his mouth once more, frowning as he realized he’d already finished it.
“Oh yeah? What kind of car does Yoda drive? A Volkswagen JEDI.”
Adam scrunched his face. “Not fair… you just piggybacked off my joke.”
I shrugged and tossed my napkin on the table, then stood, offering Adam my hand. “Come on.”
He didn’t hesitate to stand as well, wrapping his large, warm fingers around mine. “Where we going?”
“To get somerealfood.”
Forty minutes later, Adam and I were laying in the grass at the Dartmouth Green park. We’d gorged ourselves on food truck fare. Shwarma chicken, a steak burrito, lobster rolls. I lifted the Slushie I’d grabbed at a gas station and slurped the remaining melted liquid through my straw.
“There’s Cassiopeia,” Adam said, pointing at a cluster of stars.
He’d sobered up quite a bit once we got some food in him. His messy hair was now smoothed down. His shirt, back to being neatly tucked in.
I kind of missed disheveled Adam. I wanted to mess him up again.
Instead, I looked in the direction he was pointing toward the inky night sky. “I never understood astronomy,” I grumbled. “All I see are stars. A bunch of stars, sure. But they don’t look like anything.”
