Page 92 of Bad Crush
“This isn’t prom,” Adam protests, but he wraps an arm around my waist and holds still while his sister takes a dozen photos. But when she suggests we go outside to get a few more, he guides me toward the front door. “Okay, that’s enough. We have to go.”
As soon as we step outside alone, Adam pins me against the building, and his mouth slams down onto mine. He sucks the remaining air from my lungs, but who needs to breathe anyway? Dying kissing this man wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
“Sorry.” He pulls back and adjusts his jacket. “Needed to get that out of the way. You look beautiful. Mav’s right. You’re a fucking rocket.”
“You too.” I run a hand along his chest and kiss him again quickly.
Grinning, he tucks his hair behind an ear. “Ready to do this?”
By the time we make it to the banquet (there are several more stops for kissing), the room is packed. Adam stops in the doorway and takes a deep breath. He hasn’t mentioned the speech, but I know he must be nervous.
“You’re going to be great,” I assure him.
He brings our joined hands to his lips, and we walk in together.
Round tables are covered in white tablecloths. A single candle in a faux crystal holder sits in the center of each, water glasses are turned upside down at each place setting, and black napkins rolled up with shiny silverware gleaning out the top. Simple elegance, but not too flashy.
A low hum falls over the room as people talk. Groups stand mostly near the bar area set up near the far wall. Some guests are already sitting at the tables. There are a lot of other students here tonight with their families, which I wasn’t expecting, but Adam tells me it’s because they’re recognizing scholarship recipients for the premed program too.
Much like the mixer weeks ago, we’re swept up in conversation from the moment we have drinks in our hands. Professors and scholarship committee members want to offer their congratulations and best wishes.
Adam takes it all in stride, thanking people, answering their questions, and attentively bringing me into the fold by introducing me and talking up the show next weekend.
We’re chatting with a woman who I think is a professor. I’ve sort of lost track of all the names and titles. She’s asking me about my part in the play when Adam leans in and whispers that he’s going to get us another drink.
“Be right back,” he says loud enough to excuse himself from the conversation.
“It sounds wonderful,” she says. “I can’t wait to see it.” She gives me a friendly smile. “I won’t keep you talking to the old people. Go have fun. It was great to meet you, Reagan. Tell Adam good luck tonight, and you break a leg next week, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
As she walks off, I sip the last of my wine and look around. Adam’s at the bar. One hand in his pants pocket, waiting for his drink. He’s so devastatingly handsome. I’ve completely fallen for him. The real him. Not the guy I built up in my mind over the years.
The one I’ve gotten to know this past month. The one who likes to wake me up every morning by squeezing my butt, and who owns more hairbrushes than any one person should (seriously, one in his Jeep, one in his backpack, one in his hockey bag, several stashed in his room and bathroom), and the generous and sweet man who makes the world my stage.
Someone grabs my arm, and I tear my gaze away from Adam to find Janine at my side. “Can I talk to you?”
I’d almost forgotten Janine and Sean would be here. Or maybe I was just hoping they wouldn’t show. Seeing her brings back too many bad memories.
“Hi. You look great, Janine.”
“Thanks,” she quickly dismisses the compliment. “Lori—”
I groan. “Can’t you give it a rest? Just for tonight? I don’t want to get into this with you again. Not here.”
I take a step, but she walks with me. “Reagan, please, you need to hear this. Lori—”
“Stop it, Janine.” I keep my voice low, but I’m fuming. “I don’t need to hear anything. I will not be dragged back into the past. Especially tonight.”
“But—”
I shake my head and brush past her to meet Adam halfway. I press up on my toes and kiss him, trying to erase all the hurt that Janine is so insistent on bringing back up. Why can’t she just let it go? It’s almost as if she wants to keep hurting me by bringing up the past. But the Janine I knew wasn’t vindictive. What gives?
“What was that for?” he asks.
“I...” My heart hammers in my chest. I am so in love with him. I want to tell him. I want to tell the whole world, sing it while skipping down the street and twirling—all of which he’d probably find wildly amusing. For now, I settle for another truth. “I’m really glad that I’m here with you.”
His gaze roams over my face as his lips slowly pull up. “I’m glad too. Dance with me.”
