When the door suddenly clicks open, Adam looks back and forth between us like he might be interrupting something, and then he asks if he’s doing just that.
“No,” I say. “I just . . .” I just needed to pry some intel out of your closest confidante. I don’t want to get Shawn in trouble, but . . . I need to ask. “Adam, you’ve never let a girl stay here before?”
He shoots a pointed look at Shawn, who raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man. She asked. She was kinda freaking out.”
Adam’s expression softens as he leans back against the door. “Why were you freaking out?”
Isn’t it obvious? Because that’s what I do! “I was not freaking out.”
Shawn and Adam are both staring at me when Shawn nervously says, “Yeah . . . ya kinda were. I thought you were going to tread grooves in the floorboards.”
Realizing I’m still shifting from foot to foot, I force myself to stop fidgeting. “Sorry . . . I don’t mean to seem ungrateful or anything . . . but . . .” I sigh and sit down right where I was standing, right on the floor. “I can’t help feeling like I’m taking advantage of you.” That’s only half of it. The other half of me is paranoid that I’m going to get kicked out on my ass the minute Adam finds something else to attract his attention. He’s like a honey bee at a botanical garden, and I’m just a tiny daisy in a bed full of roses. I’m the only flower that won’t put out.
Adam sits down in front of me on the floor. “Shawn, can you give us a minute?” When Shawn leaves, Adam rubs his hands roughly over my crisscrossed legs to loosen me up. “Peach . . . I’ve never let a girl stay here before because I’ve never been friends with a girl before. It’s not a big deal. I let my friends stay here all the time.”
“In your bed?” I ask, just to be smart.
He lets out a short laugh. “No, not in my bed . . . But, come on, was sleeping in my bed really so bad? It’s big enough for the both of us. I bet you didn’t even know I was there.”
“Come on, Adam . . . This is weird.”
He frowns, and his head does that adorable side-tilt thing that makes me want to sigh. “Why does it have to be weird?”
“Huh?”
“I guess I just don’t get it.” He stares at his knees and picks at the frays in his jeans before looking back up at me. “Why is it weird? If we’re friends, why can’t I do something nice for you? If you don’t actually like me, Peach, just say so.”
“Adam . . . I was just kidding around . . .”
He shakes his head and stands up to get some distance, eventually taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “No. I’ve been thinking about it, you know. About why you didn’t come backstage that night. Why you never said hi to me in class. Why you lied about who you were and didn’t want me to find out. I know you think I’m some kind of player or something, and I’m not denying it, but that really doesn’t explain it. I mean, you said we can be friends, so why couldn’t you have said that a month and a half ago? Why’d you have to disappear and then hide? And then lie?”
“I didn’t think you cared,” I say quietly. I feel like such a jerk.
“Well I did.”
I sit down next to him and say, “I’m sorry.”
“Why is it so easy for you to be around the other guys but not me? I mean, you can play video games all night with Mike. You can dance with Joel. You and Shawn have inside jokes like you’ve been friends for years. But I try to do something nice for you and you get all uptight about it.”
“I’ve never shared a bed with Mike or Joel or Shawn,” I answer.
“Would it freak you out as much?”
No . . . it wouldn’t—because I just don’t think of them the same way. Not like I think about Adam. “No, but not because I don’t like you,” I answer honestly.
“Then why?”
Because I like you way more than them, way more than I should. “I don’t really want to answer that . . .”
Adam sighs and lets himself fall flat on the bed with his legs hanging over the edge.
“Adam?” I ask after a while.
He makes a noise that translates to, “Yeah?”
I twist my body to gaze down at him, at his shaggy brown hair and those piercing eyes. His arms are relaxed above his head, pulling his shirt up so the barest sliver of skin is showing just above the waistband of his jeans.
“You’re my favorite . . . That’s why.”
Staring up at me like he’s not quite sure if I’m telling the truth, he asks, “I’m your favorite?”
Understatement of the century. I smile down at him. “By a hair.”
Adam smiles, and then his expression grows more serious. He sits up, staring over at me. “How much do you like me?”
Oh, that question is so, so loaded. I bob and weave, weave and bob. “Enough to not make you sleep on the couch with Joel in exchange for tutoring.”
He laughs, and then after a moment, he stands up. “I like you too, Peach . . . And I’m cool with just being your friend. So stop overthinking this, okay?”