To Hate Adam Connor

You didn’t even ask me, you little shit!

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard from Jameson since I’d gotten his I miss you text at the premiere. He’d been texting random things the entire week. I drew a long breath and uncurled my legs from under me.

“I think I should go,” I mumbled, standing up.

Adam turned around with two drinks in his hands, whiskey from the looks of it.

“What’s wrong with you?” He ignored my words and handed me the alcohol. Even the heavy smell made me nauseous. I scrunched up my nose and shook my head.

“No, thank you. I’m not feeling so great, so…I’ll just see him some other time.” I put my phone back in my pocket and placed the whiskey on a coaster. His eyes were still on me.

“Sit,” he ordered as he sat down on the far corner of the couch. “He’ll be here soon enough.”

I looked outside and weighed my options: sit down and wait for Aiden or go back to Olive so she could question me more about my nonexistent feelings for Adam.

Spending some more time with the enemy it was.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked for the second time just before he took a sip of his whiskey.

I sat down and had trouble looking away from his clear, alluring eyes.

“Nothing specific, just feeling off.”

“How’s your hand?”

I lifted it up and checked my knuckles. There was still a redness and they were kind of sore. It was a good kind of sore, though; knowing I had hurt the douchebag, I didn’t mind the reminder. And that reminded me…

“I should ask you the same question.” I dropped my hand and motioned to his with my chin. “What went down with you and Jake? Did he really have something going on with your ex?”

He lifted an eyebrow, but otherwise stayed silent.

I’d been curious about it ever since I’d read the story online. Was what they were saying true, or had he punched him because of what had happened the night before? According to Olive, he had gone after Jake for me, but I had my doubts. Olive was a romantic at heart, and she wanted me to fall in love again; of course she’d think like that.

Feeling all hot and flustered under his scrutinizing gaze, I snapped at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?” He put his drink down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

That annoying eyebrow went up again. “Like what?”

“You know what, never mind.” I looked away from him and did my best to ignore him for the next five minutes or so until he got up to get himself another drink.

I was thinking about Jameson when a water bottle appeared in front of my face.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely and took it from his hand.

“You’re welcome. You look subdued, maybe you should see a doctor,” he suggested as he sat down closer to where I was sitting.

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

I uncapped the bottle and took a big gulp of cold water. Then I closed my eyes and imagined myself some place else…maybe in the woods, or at a lake house where trees and calm waters surrounded me. I could sit on the deck, close to the water, and read Olive’s new book. I smiled to myself. I could fall in love with as many men as possible and the curse couldn’t even touch me. There was something special about falling in love with fictional characters through words. On that deck, with the birds fluttering around and the wind moving my hair, I’d be happy.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked quietly.

I didn’t open my eyes when I answered, “Dreaming.”

A long moment passed before he spoke again. “Where are you?”

“Lake house. Reading Olive’s new book. There is a soft wind. I like wind; it makes me happy for some reason. Feeling that soft touch on my skin, in my hair. The sun is peeking through the trees, so it’s not cold. The water looks beautiful. Calm and peaceful.”

“Is there an empty chair beside you?”

“You’d annoy me, so no.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “No hard feelings.”

He smiled and reached for the papers he had put down when I came in. “No hard feelings, Lucy.”

Feeling a little better, I looked around at his home and sighed. It was getting closer to Aiden’s bedtime.

“Do you do that a lot?” Adam asked, his eyes on the papers in his hand.

“Do I do what a lot?”

“Go some place else.”

I shrugged. “You’re welcome to think I’m crazy.”

“I didn’t say that. Actually…” He stopped talking, threw the papers on the coffee table, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Curious, I asked, “Actually…? Actually what? Don’t be one of those people, finish your sentence.”

He shut his eyes and leaned his head back. “At the risk of sounding like a Hollywood brat…I used to lie in my bed and imagine I had a simpler life. Instead of being dragged around to parties where drugs and booze were lying around on glass tables, where I had to look after Vicky, my sister, so she didn’t accidently play with white powders thinking it was makeup or flour, so she didn’t reach for one of those wine glasses thinking it was her juice…I used to wish for normal parents. I wished I could have friends over without worrying about how my parents would act depending on their moods. Don’t give me that look,” he warned when he opened his eyes and found me looking at him.

I ran my hands up and down my arms and kept silent.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he continued, misunderstanding my look. “They gave me a good life. A good education. Opportunities I maybe wouldn’t have had if they weren’t my parents. I’m not saying my life was miserable or anything, but back then I wanted to be a normal teenager. With normal parents. Just a normal life, you know, without the paparazzi, without the bullshit of Hollywood.” His eyes hardened and he added, “You might think you know everything about someone because they’re in the public eye, but you can never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“I understand,” I said in a barely audible voice.

“Do you?”

I looked away from him. “I have to give you the backstory first. I don’t know who my father is,” I started, surprising myself. Was I actually going to tell him about myself? The words just wanted out, so I guessed I was. “According to Catherine, my grandma, my mom was completely in love with him. They were living together, but when he learned that she was pregnant with me, he packed his stuff and left. Apparently he’d already told her he never wanted to have kids, so he saw it as a betrayal. After I was born, apparently my mom decided she didn’t want to have me either and dumped me on Catherine. And Catherine…well, she took me in, but she is a very difficult woman.”

I glanced at Adam to see if he was even listening to me. When our eyes met, he lowered his head in a small gesture. “Go on.”

I huffed; it would’ve been easier to stop talking if he was just ignoring me. “Catherine…now Catherine never married either, but she was living with the love of her life and then they had my mom, so it was all sunshine and rainbows for a good long while, I guess. But when my mom was two years old, dear old Grandpa started cheating on Catherine and then left her for the other woman, actually getting married to her a month or so later. Catherine returned home, which wasn’t the best thing apparently because her own parents—who were not married, by the way—treated her like shit. Still, she raised my mom as best as she could, but turned very bitter in time. When my mom dumped me on her, they weren’t even talking to each other, so obviously the women in our family are pretty fucked up and there are no men in sight.”