Page 7 of My Accidental Valentine

I exhale, the tension in my chest tightening as the words slip out on their own. “Did I offend you? I mean, I was really, really drunk, and it was probably so embarrassing… I’ve felt awful about it ever since, but I was too ashamed to bring it up—”

“You didn’t.” Adam’s voice cuts through my ramble, firm and final, like he doesn’t want to hear any of it. “Offend me,” he adds, and I can tell he’s lying—his jaw is tight, his whole demeanor withdrawn and cold.

I freeze, caught off guard. “I…didn’t?”

“No,” Adam repeats, his tone almost too casual—as though he’s trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice edged with desperation. “Because I’m really sorry if I—”

“I’m sure,” he interrupts again, his expression cold and distant, nothing like the guy who just bought me coffee and suggested we share tiramisu like the dogs inLady and the Tramp. And just like that, I know—it’s over. Whatever happened, he’s not going to tell me.

Feeling horribly out of place, I grab a spoon and take an overly ambitious bite of the dessert. The cocoa dusting hits the back of my throat, and I start coughing like a maniac. Panicking, I grab my coffee and take a huge gulp to clear it. When I look up, Adam is leaning forward in his seat, looking like he’s about to leap over the table and perform the Heimlich maneuver.

I manage to clear my throat, wave him off, and take another, smaller bite before croaking out, “The tiramisu is really good.”

Chapter 3. The Tension

It’s fifteen minutes later, and Adam and I are already driving back to Millie’s house. The big box holding her birthday cake sits carefully on my knees, and I’ve got both hands gripping it tightly, terrified that one sudden bump in the road might send it flying. Destroying my best friend’s cake would be the ultimate cherry on top of this incredibly miserable day.

The tension in the car feels even heavier than it did on the way to the bakery. My attempt to clear the air with Adam has obviously backfired—whatever I said must have stirred up memories of that night. Adam stares straight ahead through the windshield, completely still, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a hard, thin line, and his jaw tightly clenched.

To be honest, his reaction only fuels my paranoia. What the hell could I have done to make him act like this? He looks almost haunted—as if he’s reliving some awful memory. God, I really need to talk to Emilia. If anyone can help me decode the enigma that is Adam Payne, it’s her. But that’ll have to wait. I’m not about to derail her birthday with this ridiculous drama.

When Adam pulls into the driveway, he unbuckles his seatbelt and says, “Don’t move, I’ll help you,” before stepping out of the car. He comes around to my side, opens the door, and carefully takes the cake from my hands.

This time, I manage to unbuckle my seatbelt without incident, giving it a firm tug to make sure it doesn’t betray me again.

The front door is already open, and as we step inside, Chara and Tina peek out from the living room. Tina immediately rushes over to grab the cake from Adam, announcing, “Pete went to pick up Millie. They’ll be here in half an hour.”

“And we need your lungs for blowing up the balloons,” Chara adds. “The delivery was late, so we’ve only just started.”

“I’ve got a car pump we could use,” Adam says, shrugging off his jacket.

“Can you even use that for balloons?” Tina asks, frowning—until her eyes land on Adam’s ripped shirt. She freezes, eyebrows shooting up. “What happened to your shirt?” She turns to me next, taking in my muddy pants and jacket. “And you? What’s going on?”

Chara does a double-take, glancing between the two of us. “Did you get into a bear fight or something?”

I feel heat creeping up my cheeks as I steal a glance at Adam, unsure if he’s going to explain or if I should. To my surprise, Adam beats me to it, his expression completely deadpan as he says, “It was a fight, but no bears were involved.” Then he opens the front door and heads toward his car to grab the pump.

Tina and Chara turn to me, looking utterly puzzled.

“What really happened?” Tina asks, furrowing her brow.

But since Adam freaking Payne has already covered for me, I’m not about to sabotage myself.

I force a casual shrug, kicking off my boots. “Would you believe me if I said ‘a series of unfortunate events’?”

They watch me as I take off my jacket, but I ignore them and walk past toward the bathroom to wash my hands. Once inside, I turn on the tap and try to scrub the streaks of dirt from my jeans, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bathtub. Rubbing water into denim doesn’t do much good, and I sigh, thinking,Fuck it, I’ll just go change.

So I stand, shut off the tap, and reach for the door handle, but just as I turn it, the door opens, and I bump chest-first into someone.

“Oops,” I breathe out, nearly jumping back in surprise.

“Hi,” Adam says, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder.

His touch sends a jolt through me—my shoulder burns like plastic under hot iron. I meet his gaze, and suddenly the bathroom feels impossibly small, the air between us taut. My whole body hums with his proximity—he’s static electricity and I’m a live wire about to spark.

“How’s your back?” Adam asks carefully. His hand stays firm on my shoulder, steady, as if he’s holding me in place. We’re still standing there in the bathroom doorway, his frame blocking the hallway behind him, making the moment feel way more intimate than it should.

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