Page 84 of Again, In Autumn

Adam licks his lips. “This isn’t my house. I need the advantage.”

Kate’s voice wafts in from the dining room. Adam steps forward, and the warmth of his palm meets the arch in my back.

“Let’s try upstairs.” He ushers me forward. His breath teases the back of my neck. I climb along with him, my body moving on autopilot. At the top of the stairs, his hand still glued to my spine, he directs us along a practiced path toward my bedroom.

He says, “Oh, look where we are! Let’s look in here.”

Two hands push me through the open door, and I listen as he closes it behind us.

Tucking a loose hair behind my ear, I spin around. “Why are we locked in?”

“It’s not locked.” He puts his hands on his hips.

I lift a brow and argue, “For the purposes of this game, it’s locked.”

He says, “If someone wanted to come in, they could. Besides…it’s not like we’re going to do anything scandalous in here.” Lips twist into a smirk. “Are we?”

That cheekiness got me when I was eighteen-year-old. The charm of it, the boldness, the way he sprinkled suggestive language sporadically while waiting in line for ice cream or before diving in the lake.

I say, “No.”

“Rats,” he responds with a tentative smile and jokey snap of his fingers.

We’re not kids anymore. There’s nothing we could do that would be frowned upon or needs to be secret. But we’re also not anything to each other, while being simultaneously off-limits.

I’m curious about what we could have been like this week without that summer. If we only just met now. If we were truly strangers.

Would we have gone down the same path?

Adam walks up behind me, and my body craves for his arms to wrap around my waist, tug me close to him. My ears ring, my skin ripples with desire.

Then, he brushes past me and saunters toward the dresser. Leaning against the wood, breathing out through puffed lips, his eyes glance around the room. The corner of his mouth lifts.

My eyes watch his movements while my body remembers them. “Why are in here, Adam?”

“I just needed some space,” he says. His dark lashes flutter when his gaze softens on me.

A fire burns low in my belly.

“There’s not a lot of it here,” I struggle, looking away.

“Yeah, this room is small.” His eyebrows drop. “Do you live in a house in Atlanta? Or an apartment?”

Taken aback by his question, I momentarily falter. “Um…an apartment.” Embarrassment warms my cheeks, but I don’t know why, it’s not my fault. “I don’t get paid a lot of money. You know, being a public school teacher and all.”

He blinks, staring at me. “Do you have a roommate?”

“No.”

“Is your kitchen big enough for baking?”

“Kind of.” Needing something to do with my hands, they smooth the quilt at the foot of my bed. I wonder, “Why are you asking me these questions?”

He licks his bottom lip and focuses on his feet. “Just getting to know you.” One eyebrow lifts, as does his gaze. “Stranger.”

Swallowing the nervousness in my throat, I sit on the edge of my bed and say, “If you’re getting to know someone, people usually ask questions like…what kind of books do you read?”

“You don’t read.” Adam laughs lightly, begging me to argue.

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