Page 19 of Guy's Girl
“Movies,” Adrian says.
“What?”
“I’ve always wanted to work in movies and TV.”
“Seriously?” At this news, Ginny visibly brightens.
“Yeah. When I moved from Budapest to Indiana, TV kind of saved my life. I couldn’t understand a word the kids at school were saying, and I was scared to even try to talk to them. But TV—that was a safe way to learn.”
“That’s fascinating,” Ginny says.
Adrian smiles. They stare at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and Adrian is surprised by how much he wants to kiss her. He’s done it before, right?Take face in hands, lean down, press lips to hers.It’s simple. Why can’t he do it now? Why do the six inches between them feel like so many more?
“So.” Ginny clears her throat, looking down. “Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?”
Adrian almost chokes on his wine. “You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
She shrugs. “You’re terrible at texting. In my experience, that usually means someone has never had someone to consistently text.”
“No,” he says. “I’m terrible at texting because I hate it. Even if I did have a serious girlfriend, that wouldn’t change.” He glances at Ginny. “I won’t alter who I am to suit someone else.”
Ginny’s eyelids flutter.
Kiss her.The words drift to him from some hidden pocket of his mind.
I can’t, he thinks.Not right now. Just one more drink. One more is all I need. Then I’ll be brave.
Ginny asks, “Have you ever been in love?”
Adrian almost laughs. Not only has he never been in love, he’s never let anyone get close enough to even approach theideaof love. Whenever relationships surpass a date or three, he cuts things off. He’s never liked anyone enough to let it go further. And if he isn’t 100 percent certain he’s in love, he would rather be alone.
He’ll probably do the same with Ginny.
But, for now, he enjoys their conversation. He enjoys the way she looks up at the night sky, as if each time she sees it is the very first. Her presence carries some sort of tonic. A restorative for the life Goldman drains away. Around Ginny, Adrian doesn’t feel quite so empty. Around Ginny, he feels oddly at home.
Ginny doesn’t understand what’s happening. By now, it’s past midnight. She’s spent almost five hours with Adrian. They’ve each had three glasses of sour cherry wine, and he hasn’t even tried to hold her hand.
It’s sad, Ginny decides. That she’s even still here. He’s so clearly uninterested. No man has ever passed up the opportunity to kiss a girl who has been sitting on his couch for three hours. Not unless he isn’t actually attracted to her.
And yet—how could he not feel what she does? The faint buzzing between them, the air thick as smog, clogging her throat, making her dizzy. Every time she looks at him, her chest tightens painfully. She longs to reach out to him. To rest her hand on the hard planes of his chest. To press her lips to his.
If she did, she’d only make a fool of herself.
She brushes off her pants as she stands. Earlier that night, she put on those pants with the expectation that later on someone else would be taking them off. What an idiot.
“Well,” she says. “Guess I should probably head out.”
“What?” Adrian asks. He’s visibly surprised. “You’re leaving?”
Ask me to stay.“Yes.”
Adrian looks into his glass of wine. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Ginny repeats.
He hesitates. Then he stands and says he’ll walk her downstairs. When they reach the landing, Ginny lingers, waiting to see if he’ll lean down and kiss her. He doesn’t. Instead, he wraps her in a hug. His grip is limp. It contains nothing—no hiddenmessages, no lingering meaning. Ginny thinks fleetingly that it’s the kind of hug you could shrivel up and die in.
“Bye,” she says.
