Page 32 of Unravel Me

His gentle smile slows the race of my heart, and I relax into his body as he tells me about his life in Vancouver, how he spends his summers with his dog and his friends, how he’s loving being Uncle Adam to his best friend’s five-month-old daughter, and that although he moved here for work and never wants to leave, he grew up in Colorado. I eat everything up, though somehow feeling unsatiated, like I’m missing big pieces of him.

We talk forever, even as he proudly displays the chocolate-covered strawberries and chocolate chip cookies he made for dessert, as he catches the strawberry juice trickling down my chin, bringing his thumb to his mouth and tasting it.

The quiet only starts to settle in when the sky dims, and I become painfully aware of everywhere we’re connected. His chest pressed to my back, rising steadily. The brush of his fingers on my thighs, skimming the climbed hem of my dress. His chin on my shoulder and his lips at my ear, all of it a stark contrast to the cool breeze that starts to nip at my bare arms.

Adam runs his hand over my arms, a sizzling heat that, somehow, only elicits more goose bumps. “Here,” he whispers, reaching behind the pillows, producing a sweater.

I slip the soft fleece over my head, burying myself in his warmth. A dizzying feeling rushes to my head as the smell of Adam surrounds me—an earthy, spicy scent, something clean and crisp like citrus, and the forever comforting scent of fresh laundry.

And then something magnificent happens. When the sun finally dips behind the skyline, the tree above us comes to life. Tiny lights scattered among the leaves twinkle like fireflies, making the night glow. My heart climbs up my throat and makes a home there, stealing every word I want to speak. When my gaze finds Adam’s, soft and electric at the same time, I don’t know if everything inside me stops working, or if something inside me restarts. It just feelsdifferent, and I’m thrown by the sudden imbalance, the need to reach out and grasp this man, like he’s my center of gravity.

“Do you like them? They’re solar powered. I was worried they wouldn’t get enough sunlight hidden in the trees, so I laid them out in my backyard all day.” He runs an anxious hand over the nape of his neck. “I thought we’d be able to stay longer if we had some light. Then I could keep you longer.”

“You can keep me forever,” accidentally slips past my lips, and I clap a hand over my filthy, traitorous mouth.

Adam grins. “Careful. I might take you up on that.” He twines our fingers together, a warmth I don’t want to lose. “Sounds like my type of forever.”

He climbs to his feet, pulling me with him, and his smile lights my whole world on fire.

“Dance with me, Rosie.”

“D-dance? But…there’s no music.”

“Don’t need it.” He winks, tugging on my hand. “Now come here.”

I do, stumbling over my footing, and Adam catches me against his solid chest, his deep laugh rolling down my neck before he whispers that nickname that thrills me and pulls at so many lost memories too.

“Trouble.”

“Maybe it’s you who’s trouble.”

Broad hands coast over my hips, fingertips digging in as we sway slowly together, the leaves rustling in the summer breeze and the gentle buzz of cicadas singing a soft tune in time with the husky breath that kisses my neck when Adam dips his mouth there.

His palm skates up my spine, curving over the nape of my neck, where he squeezes ever so gently. “The only trouble I want to get into, Rosie…it’s with you.”

Soft lips brush my temple before he settles his chin on my head as we dance beneath the twinkling lights and the stars above us.

It’s nearly eleven when we start packing everything away, and my head feels full of air and butterflies. It’s a happy, carefree place to be, and because it almost never is, I hold onto it with all my might. It’s a feeling I could get lost in, intoxicating and addictive, and I realize how easily Adam did exactly what he said he would: he took control, and in turn, I let go.

I let go of the expectations, the rules, the what-ifs. I let go of the questions that lead to overthinking, and I just…existed.

I watch as Adam neatly tucks everything away in his picnic basket and bag before hooking them off his shoulder, the crook of his elbow, my sun hat nabbed between the tips of his fingers.

I slip my hand into his. “Thank you.”

He looks at our hands, throat bobbing. “For what?”

“For showing me it’s okay to let go sometimes.”

He squeezes my fingers, lifts my hand to his lips, and brushes a kiss across my knuckles before towing me through the park to a midnight blue park where he throws everything inside.

“Did you have fun?” he asks, a spark of uncertainty in his gaze, a hopeful rasp to his tone.

So I wrap my arms around his middle and hold him tight. “I had the best time, Adam. Thank you so much for a beautiful night.”

“Okay. Cool. Thank you so much for being beautiful. No. No. Fuck. Shit.” He rips me off him, holding me at arm’s length. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I think you’re beautiful, obviously.ObviouslyI think you’re beautiful.” He shoves his fingers through his curls and sighs. “This is the worst. I’m the worst. Now I’m nervous again.”

I snicker-snort, then clap my hand over the obnoxious sound. Just like that, Adam’s nerves vanish, an arrogant smirk tipping the side of his mouth.

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