Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)

“Okay, well let me grab a drink and I’ll be right back.”


Once Adam got in line, I spent the next two minutes staring at how his perfectly round ass looked in his fitted dark jeans. It didn’t take me long to remember how sexually frustrated I’d felt since that morning, and by the time he arrived back at the table, I was wiggling in my seat, trying desperately to find a position that would dull the ache between my legs.

“You okay?” Adam asked, a curious grin on his face.

Could be better. “Yeah, just trying to get comfortable.”

“So,” he said, placing his coat on the back of his chair and taking a seat, “what’s new?”

God, this already feels so awkward. Neither one of us would be able to make more than idle small talk. Maybe it was a mistake to come here. “Um, nothing really.” I searched my brain, trying desperately to find something to talk about. Anything. Let’s see, what’s new, what’s new? I made a mess of my life and yours . . . wait, that’s not new. Shit. I joined CrossFit . . .who the hell wants to hear stories about CrossFit? Nobody, that’s who. I tried to get myself off in the shower this morning to thoughts of you . . . it didn’t work. Yeah, like I’d ever fuckin’ say that. Think, dammit. Got it: “I went to Europe over the summer.”

“Really? Where? Who’d you go with?”

I gave him a brief overview of my trip—famous museums I’d visited, beautiful cathedrals I’d enjoyed, the delicious food I’d tasted. And he seemed genuinely interested as I shared some of the details. But after I revealed the fact that I’d gone alone, he’d gotten quiet.

Did he think I’d gone alone because of him? I’d gone alone because of myself. Maybe it had been a mistake to talk about Europe. Maybe I should tell him about CrossFit or my masturbation attempt. Shit. I needed to get the attention off of me before I said something stupid. “Did you go anywhere fun this summer?” I asked, hoping to alleviate some of the tension that seemed to have settled over the table since Adam’s arrival.

“The beach.”

Oookay. Guess we’re sticking with short answers. I sat for a moment, listening to the sound of both of us sipping on our drinks, the cappuccino machines steaming behind the counter, the meaningless chatter of the employees. “Are we gonna talk about what happened between us?” I asked suddenly.

My question not only seemed to surprise Adam, it also surprised me. But I was immediately glad I’d said it.

Adam’s face softened as he seemed to be deciding how to respond. “I don’t know. Should we?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. We're not doing so well attempting to talk about anything else.”

Adam moved his coffee cup between his hands nervously. “Nothing either one of us can say will change what happened last spring. I’m not sure if we should even be doing this right now.” Finally, Adam looked up, and his eyes met mine. “I just . . . when I saw you the other day . . . I couldn’t not see you again.”

I wasn’t sure what I saw on his face as he said those words: I couldn’t not see you again. Behind his composed exterior, I was sure I’d seen pain. Pain that I’d caused. But I also thought I saw a spark of hope glistening in his eyes as he looked at me. Hope that maybe, despite everything we’d been through, everything I’d done, this time might be different. “I couldn't not see you either,” I said quietly.

Adam’s tongue swept across his lips before he spoke. “We . . . we were never really friends. We had feelings for each other so quickly after we met. I just can’t do that again." His eyes bore into mine, as if he saw some secret answer written there.

I tried hard to maintain my upright posture. But inside, I was slumped over so far my head hit the table. I’m not sure when I had allowed myself to get my hopes up, but I had. And his words were like a knife to the chest.

When he resumed speaking, his voice was low and I mentally braced myself for his imminent rejection. “I have to protect myself this time.”

Wait . . . what? Did he say “this time”?

"So can we try that first?” he continued. “Try to be friends? See where things go?”

It took me a moment to register that he hadn’t told me to go to hell and burn there for all of eternity. It took every fiber of willpower I possessed to prevent myself from leaping over the table and dry-humping his leg. “Friends,” I replied with a genuine smile, which he returned. “Well now that the elephant’s out of the room, let’s have a normal conversation. Oh, and another cup of coffee,” I said shaking my cup to show it was now empty.

Adam chuckled softly as he rose to throw my cup away and get me another. The look on my face must have let him know I didn’t know what was funny.

“At the coffeehouse . . .” he explained, “talking about elephants. Did you ever read that book by the way?” he smirked.

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