“She moved out at eighteen to go to college.” I snorted. “And I got the bathroom all to myself.”
“How are you so close now?”
“We don’t live anywhere near each other. It works. We talk all the time, and I always take Rory for weekends to go to Disney and Universal, but we don’t actually see each other all the time.” I turned my head to look at him. “Are you close to your sisters?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of the same as you. They’re scattered all over the country, so we make time to see each other if I’m in town for a game. That’s about it, except for Christmas when the entire family drops back in at my parents’ house and I end up with houseguests.”
“Ouch. I’d hate it if my sister had to stay with me. Partly because I don’t have a spare room, and partly because, well, I’d hate to share my apartment with her.”
He laughed. “I don’t mind it. I get to hang out with the kids and have fun. I don’t get to do that often.”
“Because you travel so much?”
He nodded. “It’s hard. Why do you think I’m single?”
“I dunno. I assumed you had a really bad habit. Like biting your toenails or something.”
His lips twisted to the side.
“But the traveling thing does make more sense,” I agreed.
It was also the perfect explanation for ending this, both in real life and in our fake relationship.
“Not everyone can deal with it. It’s hard. If I’m in a city where one of my sisters lives, I might not go home for two or three weeks.” He dropped back to his elbows and sighed. “My team is my family. Most women aren’t ready to deal with what is, for a good seven months of the year, a long-distance relationship. The stress and the trust… Not everyone wants to find a way to cope with it.”
The way he said it almost sounded like a warning. Like he wanted me to know just how hard it was, and while the idea that he was warning me made my heart skip, it also made my stomach sink.
I wasn’t that person. I knew that. I was impatient, and I could be needy. I couldn’t even have a long-distance relationship with my bed, never mind a human being I cared for.
And trust—he said that like he had experience with it. Like he’d either been hurt, or someone hadn’t trusted him.
The sad thing was I doubted Adam would ever be a person to break trust.
It would be women around him.
Let’s face it. I didn’t trust women. Women were bitches. And, since I was a woman, I had that fact on very good authority.
“Do you ever get lonely?” I asked him, sitting up and turning to face him.
“Lonely-lonely or…”
“Like, feelings. Relationship lonely.”
“Sometimes. Some of the other guys are married, or their girlfriends or whatever fly out to see them. If we have a break where we can go home, it sucks sometimes knowing I’m going home to an empty house.”
“Do you wish you could change it?”
“Sure. I wish there was someone who liked me for who I am and could deal with me being away as much as I am.” His eyes met mine. “But that’s harder to find than you’d think.”
I swallowed, glancing away quickly. “I bet.”
“It’s not so bad. I tend to meet someone every now and then, but it never goes anywhere. I think of them like diamonds in the rough. Of course, I’m still looking for the diamond this summer, but…”
I smacked his leg, laughing. “You’re a dick. Seriously.”
He lay down flat on the sand and motioned for me to lie down with him. I did, resting my head on his chest. I could feel the beating of his heart beneath my cheek, and I briefly closed my eyes.
“Is it crazy,” he said softly, “If I said that a part of me wished we didn’t agree this was only for this weekend?”
“Absolutely,” I said in a voice that was stronger than my own conviction.
No. It wasn’t crazy.
A part of me damn well wished it, too.
“You think?”
“Yeah. It’s all perfect here, isn’t it? When there’s structure to the days and things to do. Honestly, in real life, I’d probably bore you. My life is terribly unexciting.”
“You. Poppy Dunn. Boring? I don’t believe you.”
“Seriously. I’d frustrate the crap out of you,” I insisted. “I’m awful at going to bed at a decent hour thanks to a minor addiction to murder shows on Netflix. I have a long-standing battle with Avery’s asshole cat whenever he decides to show up. I’m late for just about everything, including work, which is why I’m scheduled to start fifteen minutes before my actual shift does.”
His upper body shook as he laughed quietly.
“I have a standing order to pay the rent to Avery the day after I get paid or I’d forget. I’m not allowed to touch the vacuum because I break them all the time. I don’t even think I know how to use the dishwasher correctly. I just kind of jab at buttons and hope for the best.”
More laughter.
“So, really, I’m a dreadful adult. That’s why I’m single. I’m not the put-together girl everyone wants to take home to their mom. Suzy Homemaker I am not.”
He tightened his arm around my waist, still laughing. “See, now it begs the question how I can be so damn attracted to someone who is, literally, my total opposite.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Perfect.”
“Hey, I have my faults, too. They just don’t make me look anywhere near as cute as yours do.”
“My faults don’t make me cute.”
“No, but the way you list them off as reasons not to like you makes you cute.”
“Ugh. Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “What are your faults?”
“All right.” He moved his hand and played with my hair. “I have to pay someone to do my laundry because I can never do it correctly. I can’t remember anyone’s birthdays, ever. My mom set up a Google calendar for me, so I’ll get a notification three days before any birthday or anniversary.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. That was cute.
“I work too much. I’m the first one in the gym and the last one out, even if it’s supposed to be a day off. I worry too much about the other guys on my team. I don’t know how to switch my brain off. I’m determined to be the best, even though one day it could cost me.”
“See, the calendar thing? That’s cute. I’d pay someone to do my laundry if I could.” I tilted my head back. “And working hard isn’t exactly a bad thing. Maybe you do need to slow down, but you’ll do that when you’re ready. You’re determined, and that’s not really a fault.”
“Depends how you look at it. I wouldn’t say having a long-standing feud with your roommate’s cat is a fault, because, let’s face it, cats are fucking assholes.”
“And Spike is the biggest asshole of them all,” I agreed. “I guess you’re right. I don’t see you being determined as a fault. I really don’t. And you will slow down one day. You’ll have to.”
“Mm. Maybe I’ll slow down when I find someone worth slowing down for.” He kissed the top of my head. “You wanna go for a swim?”
“Now?”
“No, next week. Of course now.”
“I don’t have a suit with me.”
“Do I look like I’m wearing swimming shorts under these pants?”
“Adam, I’m not even wearing a bra.” I sat up and gave him a stern look. “Just panties.”
“Red,” he sighed, sitting up. “If you’re trying to convince me that swimming in our underwear is a bad idea, you’re failing miserably.”
Jesus, Poppy. Live a little. Go swimming in your panties with the hot guy.
CHAPTER NINETEEN – POPPY
Seaweed and Sharkbait
I rolled my eyes. “Do you think they can see us?”
Adam looked over at the party. “I don’t think they even know we disappeared.”
“Aunt Blythe is probably halfway to hammered and dancing,” I said, noticing a lot of people around the dance floor.
“Sorry to miss that.”
“No, really, you’re not,” I assured him. “It’s scarring. I’ll never recover from the time she flashed everyone her thong.”
“I take it back. I’m not sorry at all.” Laughing, he undid the buttons of his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders.