My eyes close because I’m helpless to stop what happens to my body. My breathing stops, my heart stops. Every ounce of energy I have is poured into not turning into the kiss. Because God, I really want to. I want to so bad it almost hurts. I should. I should just—
When Adam slowly pulls away, I open my eyes to find him smirking, and I feel self-conscious as hell. I try to control the breath I’ve been holding so that it doesn’t come out in a humiliating sigh.
“Look,” he says quietly, referring to the girls.
I peel my eyes away from Adam and look over to their table to find them frozen like statues, all four of them gawking at us. One literally has her mouth hanging open. They look away in a hurry, and I immediately start giggling. “Wow.” I don’t know if I’m referring to the effect we had on them or the kiss itself. My blood is still lava, struggling to pump oxygen to my brain.
Adam is serious when he says, “We could make them more jealous if you want . . .”
I chuckle nervously because yes, I do want to make them more jealous. I want to make them more jealous . . . in the privacy of a bedroom . . . where they aren’t even present to witness how jealous we’re making them.
I flip to the next page of the textbook and try to say in an even voice, “Time to move on to irregular verbs.” I try to get my mind off of that non-kiss as Adam and I work our way through the third chapter, but I think it may have been the hottest kiss I’ve ever had in my entire life. Is that even possible?
I throw myself into teacher mode to try to calm myself down, and forty-five minutes later, the tingling memory of Adam’s lips has finally faded from my nerves. When we’re all the way through the third chapter, we decide to head back to his car.
“If you were this motivated in class,” I chide after Adam insists on paying the check and we’re walking out the door, “you’d pull straight A’s.”
“If classes were like this study session, maybe I’d be more motivated.” He lights a cigarette as we walk, and then he slides his shades on and climbs behind the wheel. I rest my elbow on the door and let the wind wash over me as he speeds through the city streets. The sun is clinging to the last remnants of summer, heating my skin and beating into my eyes. I pull my glasses off since I’m fairly certain they’re magnifying the sun’s hellfire rays and scorching them right into my pupils.
Holding my hand over my forehead, I turn to Adam and ask, “Do you have an extra pair of shades?”
He stares over at me for a long moment, and then he takes his off and hands them to me. “Nope.”
Crap, I didn’t mean to put him on the spot or anything. Pushing them back toward his chest, I insist, “No, no. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried about it.” He smiles and tosses them onto my lap. “They’ll look better on you anyway.”
Okay, I really need to get this blushing thing under control. “Thanks,” I tell him, picking up his glasses and sliding them on. Parts of them are still warm from where they were snug against his skin, and I have to remind myself that friends do stuff like this all the time. Sharing his sunglasses is no big deal. No. Big. Thing.
I look at myself in the side-view mirror and chuckle. Turning to him, I ask, “How do I look?”
Adam gazes over at me, and the corner of his mouth pulls up in a grin. “Tu sembles chaud.”
I’m helpless to stop the giggle that escapes my mouth. Adam Everest just said I look hot. He smiles appreciatively at me.
“Merci,” I finally manage, and he winks at me, which nearly makes me giggle all over again. Who is this girl and why won’t she get out of my body?!
“You ready to get started on that fourth chapter?” he asks after I’ve been staring out the open window long enough to get a grip on my ditzy alter ego.
I recline my seat and sink into it, whining, “Do we have to?” We’ve been studying in IHOP for almost three hours straight, and even though we’re making good time and Adam is really like some sort of damn prodigy with all the progress he’s making, I’m getting really tired of staring at that blasted textbook.
He shrugs. “I’m cool with not studying if you are, but I’m legally obligated to inform you that by refusing to tutor me, you will no longer reserve the right to hold me to the terms of our wager.”
I groan. “Okay, we’ll study. Give me . . . half an hour.”
I lay my head against the headrest and inhale a deep breath of muggy afternoon air. It smells like asphalt and the decay of summer. Fall has been slow in getting here this year, but the October leaves are finally beginning to change color in spite of today’s vengeful heat.
When Adam plugs his phone into the radio and hands it to me, I scroll through the song list to find instrumental versions of his band’s music and pick a song that has a familiar title. When it plays through the speakers, I turn my head to him. “Sing for me again?”
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and then I watch as a bad idea curls the corner of his mouth. “Let’s make a trade.”
Uh-oh . . . “What kind of trade?”
“I’ll sing you a song if you do a tequila shot with me tonight.”
I shake my head. “No deal.”
“Aw, come on! Why not?” He looks over at me, an indignant sparkle in his eyes.
I shrug. “Not a fair trade.” Do a body shot with Adam Everest? Uh, yeah, it would be more than a fair trade. Girls would trample each other for the opportunity. Hell, maybe that’s what Leti’s dream had been about. Maybe it was a psychic vision.