The Red Thread (6 page)

Crazier.

I feel the tears slip down my cheeks, and I don’t even bother to wipe them away. I just let them fall. Who’s around to judge me now? I pull my hood over my head. I keep my eyes cast toward the sidewalks, letting the tears continue to roll down my cheeks.

“Are you o-okay?”

Shit.

I look up to see Adam’s soft blue eyes. I nod, afraid to speak. If I open my mouth, my quiet tears may turn into loud sobs.

“Are you s-s-s-sure?” His question is full of compassion, but I don’t notice an ounce of pity. That brings a bit of warmth to my body, but not like earlier today. Earlier, I was burning alive inside my own body, but now I’m warm and comfortable as if I am sitting beside the flames, not cooking within them.

I nod once more. “Yeah,” I brave, saying it anyway. No sobs come. Some miracles do happen. I did say I wanted to see Adam today, but I really did not want to see him like this, with a tearstained face. Embarrassment charges through my body like lightning, and I am mostly sure my cheeks are the same shade as the red fire hydrant standing right next to me.

His cheeks are a beautiful rosy pink, similar to his full, light pink lips. As my eyes dash toward his lips, a desire to grab him and kiss him overcomes me. The thoughts of his body next to mine, keeping each other warm, his lips on mine, are too much to handle. I feel my cheeks burn even brighter, like they are on fire. But my desire turns into fear, as I realize what that could lead to.

“Don’t b-b-be embarrassed,” he states. “We all c-c-c-cry. I c-c-c-cry at s-s-s-s-sad movies. I even c-c-c-cry at children’s f-films s-s-s-s-sometimes.”

He has a lopsided grin on his face, and I can’t help but let out a small laugh. At the sound of my laughter, his smile seems to grow the slightest bit wider.

“Thank you, Adam.”

He stands closer to me, and I can already feel the warmth of his body radiating off onto mine. Who needs a quilt when you have this?

“D-d-d-do you want, want to t-t-talk about it?” he asks sympathetically. It’s his turn to face away from me, embarrassed. I wonder if he has to deal with assholes talking about him as well. He can’t hide his stutter, while I can at least try to hide my scars or my insanity. I mean, everyone in this damn town knows each other’s secrets, so I can’t escape them… but at least I can try. Adam can’t do that. His pain is out there for the entire world to see and destroy.

He turns back toward me, and I find myself staring at his lips once again. He doesn’t say a word, and I realize he’s still waiting for me to answer his question.

“It’s just been… a bad day, I guess,” I finally answer.

I need to get a grip. He’s just a guy. He’s just an incredibly cute guy with a stutter that somehow makes him even cuter.

“I’ll b-b-buy you c-c-c-coffee.”

“No, Adam, it’s okay. You really don’t have to.”

“I insist.” He has a giant goofy grin on his face, and how can I say no to that?

“Okay, yeah. Make it tea, and you have a deal.”

“T-t-tea it, it is,” he replies with a certain cheeriness to his tone.

We walk in silence before he finally asks, “So w-w-where are we g-g-going?”

I stop in my tracks. “I thought you were leading the way?”

“N-no. I was f-f-following you.”

The two of us stare at one another, and we can’t control the laughter that follows. It is loud and happy. One would think we were crazy if they saw us walking down the street. Well, in my case I am, but looking at us we seem like two regular loons who belong in the mental hospital. And in my case, return to the mental hospital.

“The only place that would be open now would be the diner.”

“Lead the w-way.”

I do a one-eighty spin, and I start walking, looking back at Adam. We walk for about ten minutes before we come to a small building, shaped like a rectangle. The diner is more window than wall. We enter the diner, and are met by the blinding fluorescent lights. The walls are painted a light mint-green color, with black-and-white checkered floors. The diner looks like something out of the 1950s, hence the name, Vintage Diner.

The diner is basically empty. Only one other person is inside, a frail, wrinkled man who sits alone with a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee. Adam and I walk to a table, sitting beside one of the many large windows. I always like to go for the window seats.

A waitress walks right over to the table, hardly giving us a moment to look at the menu. She probably wants us out of here just as much as she wants to be. She’s probably in her midfifties, with bottle-blonde hair and a voice that sounds like she’s smoked a pack a day for the last fifty years. I just order a cup of tea, but Adam orders a bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries. I look at him, raising my eyebrow.

He closes his eyes as he smiles, almost looking like an anime character. “I’m s-s-s-s-s-starving.”

“I am still full from dinner,” I lie.

“Oh I c-c-could always eat. When I was a k-kid, my p-p-p-parents used to s-s-s-s-s-say I had a healthy appetite.” His eyes close and he turns his head downward, as if he is remembering a sad memory.

We sit there in silence. I look out the window, at the almost empty parking lot.

“D-do you c-c-come here often?”

“Is that a pickup line?” I joke.

His cheeks grow red. “N-n-no. I w-w-w-was j-j-just asking.” He turns away.

“Relax. I’m only kidding, but not really,” I respond. “I used to come here more often, when I had trouble sleeping.” BM. Before Medication.

“Why, why did you s-s-stop?”

“I—”

I stop midsentence, not wanting to tell him the truth. Probably the best way to a guy’s heart is to
not
tell him about your seven-month stay in a mental hospital. Now that’s a real keeper, right there.

“It’s complicated,” I finally answer.

Adam doesn’t pressure me any further, and I’m beyond thankful. Too many people force me to talk, so it’s nice to find someone who allows me to talk at my own pace. The waitress comes back with my tea and Adam’s coffee. I sip in silence, letting the hot liquid soothe my insides. I keep my eyes focused on the inside of the teacup, almost afraid to look up. What must Adam be thinking of me? He’s probably thinking how pathetic I am to be walking alone at night crying.

“I’ve never seen you in Wilshire before,” I mention, trying to get the subject away from me. “It’s a pretty small town, so I feel I would’ve seen you before.”

“I m-m-moved here a c-c-couple months a-a-a-a-ago.”

So he moved here when I was still in the hospital. I wonder if anyone told him about me? Gossip seems to travel fast in Wilshire.

“Oh, do you live with your parents?” I ask, trying to escape the embarrassing thoughts of him finding out the truth. “No one ever really moves to Wilshire. Most people just try to get away.”

“N-no. I live on, on m-m-my own.”

“Really? I would love to live on my own.” Now would anyone trust me on my own? Probably not. My friends and family would be worrying too much that I’d off myself. When I started college, I stayed in Wilshire. I didn’t have the money to dorm or go away, so I just attended the community college in town.

“Have y-you ever th-th-thought about l-living on your own?”

“Yeah, a lot actually, but too many factors have worked against me, so I’m still biding my time in my parents’ house. So how do you afford your house?”

Adam laughs. “It’s a t-t-tiny apartment, b-b-but it’s home t-to me. I am w-w-working, and my uncles are helping m-me out. They live here. You d-d-didn’t t-tell me your n-n-n-name.”

If his uncles live here, how come I’ve never seen him before, never even for a visit?

“It’s Jess Holbrooke. Why don’t you live with your uncles?” I really am asking a lot of questions. He must think I am interviewing him or something.

“I-I like b-b-being on my own. They helped me find my apartment. I j-j-just wanted to l-l-live where I, um, knew, knew someone. I c-came to this t-town to visit them, and I f-f-fell in love with W-Wilshire.”

I nod and sip my tea. The waitress, whose name I’ve already forgotten, finally walks over with Adam’s burger. His eyes widen in delight, like a child being allowed to open his Christmas gifts. He thanks the waitress, and she answers with an “Uh-huh” before walking away.

He takes off the bun and picks off the onions and the pickles, and then takes a huge bite out of the burger. He moans as he swallows.

“This is the b-b-best b-burger I’ve ever had.” I can’t help but laugh as he takes another huge bite.

“Enjoy.”

He devours the burger and closes his eyes with a giant smile on his face. He runs his hands through his light brown hair, letting it fall wherever it wanted to. I feel the urge to run my fingers through it too, but I push the desire away. There is no point in me getting attracted to someone.

Adam starts eating his fries, one after another, nonstop. I’ve never seen someone eat like that before. How is he so skinny?

I sip my tea. It’s no longer hot. “So are you in school?” I ask.

“I w-was. I g-graduated in May, moved here in July, and I w-want to go b-b-back to get my master’s d-degree. I’m t-t-taking s-s-s-s-some time off. I have a d-d-degree in elementary education.”

Wow. He is definitely on a better track then I am. I couldn’t even finish freshman year of college, and here he is with a degree and plans to go back to school. I look down at the table staring at my now empty teacup. How did I fail so hard in life?

“Are you in s-s-school?”

I shake my head. “Not anymore.”

“Why n-n-not anymore?”

To tell the truth, or to not tell the truth. That is the question.

“It’s complicated.” So I wuss out and go with neither. At least I’m not lying. I’m just avoiding the truth. Loophole.

Adam nods and doesn’t pressure me any further. He finishes off his fries as I sit there staring at the table. He looks up at me and smiles, and a blush rises to my cheeks as my heart pounds a tiny bit faster. I look away from his eyes.

“So, I guess I should go home. It’s getting pretty late,” I state, not being able to take the beating of my heart anymore. I can’t let myself feel like this.

“I-I-I can w-w-walk you?” He sounds like a young child asking for permission.

“You don’t have to,” I tell him. I don’t want him to do it because he feels he has to.

“D-do you not, um, want me t-t-to?” I see the pained expression, and I instantly feel bad.

“It’s just I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I w-want to,” he says with a hint of desperation in his voice. A smile is plastered on his face.

I nod. “Okay, sure.”

I go to grab my wallet, but he shakes his head, pulling out his own wallet, paying the bill and leaving a tip.

He follows me out of the diner. We walk in silence. I listen to the sounds of the light breeze. After fifteen minutes of walking in silence, we come up to the doorstep of my house. I look up to see Adam as he towers above me.

“So….”

“So…,” he responds right back.

“I guess I should go in now,” I state. I really don’t want to go in. If I could, I’d stay out here all night with Adam. I just want to talk to him and get to know him. I want to hold his hands. I want to kiss those lips, which look so soft and perfect.

Then the thought of him breaking my heart flashes through my mind. Falling for someone can lead to me being hurt, and I want to avoid that at all costs. I take a step back from Adam, trying to will the electricity between us away.

I turn around, but as I unlock the door, Adam grabs my shoulder.

“W-w-w-wait.”

I look up into his compassionate eyes and wait for him to respond, but I feel as if I cannot breathe as he looks into my eyes. Someone could really get lost in those oceanlike eyes.

“Can, can I g-g-get your n-number?” he lightly asks, turning away. Geez, even his embarrassment is adorable.

I can’t control the smile that forms on my face, a real, honest smile. I quickly nod, and he pulls out his cell phone. I type my number into it along with my name, and I save it. Texting won’t hurt, right? It can be fun. As long as nothing goes beyond that.

“Text me,” I tell him, before closing my front door behind me.

Before I reach the staircase, I feel the vibration of my cell phone.

I had fun.

Another vibration.

Oh, it’s Adam Foster. : )

I can’t stop the smiling, as a welcoming warmth overtakes my body, and I feel the beating of my heart speed up, just from the simple reading of his name.

Hi
, I respond back.
I had fun too. Are you still walking home?

He doesn’t take long to respond. It feels as if it only takes a few seconds.

Yeah, but I don’t live too far from you. Maybe twenty minutes?

That close? Where do you live?
I text back.

I walk upstairs and lightly knock on my parents’ door.

“Come in,” my mom answers, still awake.

I open the door to find her reading in bed.

“You’re home late.”

“I hung out with friends after work.”

“Oh was it Tommy or Alex?”

“No, a new friend,” I answer, feeling my phone vibrate in my hand.

I watch my mom smile. “Good. I’m glad. Good night, Jess. I love you.”

“Good night.”

I crawl up onto my bed, kicking off my shoes, and I read my newest text.

The better to stalk you.

He texts me back right afterward.
I was trying to be cute and funny but I failed and came off creepy and weird. Awkward.

I laugh. I won’t lie—I found it endearing.

You’re a real dork, aren’t you?
I text.

I’ve been told that many times. Bow ties are cool after all. If you get that reference, I might have to marry you.

Sadly I don’t get it. No marriage in my near future, then.

Sadly no? Sorry.

Noooooooooo……………… It’s a Doctor Who reference. It’s my favorite show. You NEED TO WATCH IT, JESS! YOU NEED TO WATCH IT NOW!

I silently laugh to myself at his geeky textual outbursts, enjoying the fact that I’m actually smiling.