Page 29 of Forever Summer

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

My brows lowered as Adam edged toward the bar.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“You can’t! The pool table.” I pointed, thinking surely he wouldn’t dare damage the cloth; he would have Chris to answer to.

“Oh, there have been far worse things spilled on that table top.”

I flinched away from holding the edge of the table. “Ew.”

“I think you have better things to worry about,” added Ringer, who now sat casually on top of a barstool, arms crossed, watching on with great amusement.

Bastard.

Adam was trying to be cool as he blindly reached for the post mix gun, attempting to find it while never taking his eyes from me. I knew if I bolted Ringer would probably just block my way.

Life can be cruel sometimes.

But to my surprise, Ringer slid off his barstool, seemingly bored by the situation playing out before him.

“Come and get me when you’ve finished your game of kiss-chasey.”

“Give me a few minutes. This won’t take long,” replied Adam with a devilish smirk.

“Oh, cocky much?”

“I like my chances.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Ugh, for Christ’s sake, get a room, you two.” Ringer flipped on his sunnies and made his way out of the poolroom.

Adam’s eyes narrowed after him, seemingly annoyed by what he had said. I could have used this moment of distraction to leg it, to run and never look back, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I knew Adam would never stop chasing me, and that I would literally have to watch my back, sleep with one eye open. I would be living in a perpetual state of fear when all I really wanted was to enjoy my weekend. It was bad enough that I was as good as under house arrest until tonight. So I decided to take charge, but in a different way, an unexpected way, according to Adam’s reaction. His brows raised in surprise as he watched me walk around the pool table, not away from him, but toward him. He straightened, seemingly tensing as I approached, as if I weren’t to be trusted; to be honest, I couldn’t exactly blame him. When my hand wrapped over his hand that held the post mix gun he flinched, a reaction that only made me laugh as I brought the nozzle up to my face. I closed my eyes and pushed, drenching myself in, of all things, dirty soda water.

Thoroughly saturated, I let go of Adam’s hand, wiping my face and scratching my nose from the tickle of the bubbles. I opened my eyes to see Adam looking at me like I was a crazed woman.

“There,” I said. “Now we’re even.”

I felt so smug. Like victory was mine in some bizarre kind of way. I had turned the tables and took the power back; I was now untouchable, like I could walk away free, knowing I wouldn’t have to be constantly looking over my shoulder. Even though a portion of my hair was plastered to the side of my face, I lifted my chin to look defiantly at Adam. I thought maybe he would find it somewhat amusing, that he might have a little smirk and shake his head, call me a lunatic. Remembering how I could usually predict all of Adam’s responses before they actually happened. But this time his look was nothing like I would have predicted: his mouth agape, his expression troubled, almost stunned like he couldn’t quite form the words.

I kind of liked this unknown reaction, it made me feel even more powerful, and I cockily placed my hand on my hips. “Well, well, Adam Henderson, speechless; well, this is an added bonus,” I quipped, revelling in his almost-awkward stance.

Adam swallowed, turning his head to the side, blinking, as if trying to shake his thoughts together. Was he going red?

“E-Ellie, your umm … it’s … umm …”

My brows knitted together in confusion, my eyes following where his finger blindly pointed to … Oh, my God!

My nightie, my white nightie, drenched in soda water had rendered it completely see-through.

I gasped, clutching at my chest and spinning away from him, mortified.

Oh, this could not be happening, this could not be happening.

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