She started to smile, then got a look at my pout. “Bad lunch with your dad?”
“Just Saul being Saul. Always up to his bullshit.” I rested my elbows on her desk. “Did you have a nice lunch with Callum?”
Her round cheeks went rosy. “I always have a nice lunch with Callum.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me for a rock star. Honestly, it’s pretty rude.”
She giggled. “We’ll still see each other. It’s not like I’m dying, just getting married.”
Wren was marrying Callum Rose, Adam’s bandmate, next month, then leaving her job as a receptionist to go on tour with the band—which was code for Callum and Wren couldn’t stand to be apart from each other for more than a few hours.
“I know, but you won’t be here for me to see every day. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Addie.” She bit her bottom lip. “Are you okay? You looked sad when you walked in.”
“I am sad, but it’s not something I won’t get over.” My fingers curled around the edge of the counter. “My father doesn’t want me to learn the production side of music. It looks like I’ll be staying in my current toxic relationship with my desk.”
She offered sympathy, which I readily accepted, then I trudged back upstairs. It wasn’t that my job was awful, but now that I knew what I really wanted to do, it had become my own personal torture chamber. The recording studios, where I wanted to be, were just one floor down from me. Sometimes, I trolled the halls just to be close to them, that was how bad it was.
But this was my life. Unless I wanted to sever ties with my dad—which I firmly did not—I had to suck it up and hope one day he’d have a change of heart. I wouldn’t hold my breath.
At home, I kicked off my shoes, dropped my pants into my hamper, and padded into my master bath to wash my work makeup off. This day could go right down the drain along with my foundation and eyeliner.
Closing my eyes, I braced my hands on the counter and breathed. Slow exhales in and out of my nose, pushing my disappointment down. This was a setback, not the end of the world.
Through the tile walls, singing reverberated. Adam was giving me a concert. And he had no idea.
Our apartments had been built well. I never heard any of my neighbors. But, it seemed, during construction, something went wrong with the soundproofing between Adam’s and my showers. When I was in the bathroom, I could hear him like he was in the room. He’d never said anything, but I assumed he could hear me too. Then again, he was normally asleep when I was showering and getting ready for work, so maybe he hadn’t realized the way his voice carried through our walls.
I stepped into my dry shower and leaned my forehead against the tile. Adam was belting out some Harry Styles. I caught myself smiling and mouthing the words. I hoped he wasn’t aware I could hear him and this was just him being Adam—not performing for anyone but himself. Knowing Adam, though, he’d belt out Harry Styles in front of me too.
After waiting ten minutes to give him time to get dressed, I knocked on his door. Apparently, I hadn’t given him enough time. He answered in low-slung jeans and nothing else.
“Baddie.” He reached out, curling his arm around my shoulders, and drew me inside. “What brings you by?”
“I’m bored and hungry, but I don’t want to go out. Entertain and feed me please.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “No Simon?” He always said Simon’s name like it tasted like vomit. Adam hadn’t even met him and had made up his mind about him. I didn’t even bring him up anymore.
“No. Just Adam.”
Slowly, his sour expression transformed into a Cheshire cat grin. “I like the sound of that. You can have me for the next hour. Maybe two if you’re nice.”
I followed him into his kitchen where he was shuffling take-out menus. We both agreed ordering from paper menus was far superior to scrolling through our phones.
“Do you turn into a pumpkin in an hour or two?” I quipped.
He glanced at me then away. “I have plans.”
I gasped, leaning into his back so my chin was on his shoulder. That was when I remembered he was shirtless and I was touching his bare skin. But he was so warm, and he smelled better than any man had a right to. Just the right amount of fresh and spice, and underneath, his natural Adam scent.
“Do you have a date, Wainwright?”
The muscles in his shoulders bunched, a flicker of a movement I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been so close, but there was no escaping it from my vantage.
“Not really.”
“Not really? What does that mean?”