I raised my arms over my head, stretching. Adam was watching me when my gaze returned to his. There was something warm behind his eyes that I felt in my chest.
“You don’t have to stay for me. I won’t be mad.”
He reached over and pressed his finger to my mouth. “Shhh. No more of that. I’m picking the next movie and you’re not going to complain. If you do, we’ll swing back around to the topic of my poo kink.”
“No!” I covered my face, squealing. “Don’t even joke about it.”
He did joke about it. He drove me crazy. But he also rubbed my feet and put on the movie I requested, even though he’d claimed he didn’t want to watch it. Then he turned the volume down to listen to me talk about my dad.
And when I went home a while later, I knew: Adam Wainwright was one of the best friends I’d ever had.
He listened.
He laughed.
He stayed.
I just couldn’t figure out why I felt so unsettled.