The Trouble With Flirting (22 page)

Awkward. That’s the only way to describe this movie night. I’m sandwiched between Adam and Hugo, Salima is on Adam’s other side, and Allegra on Hugo’s. Adam’s got his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if trying to avoid physical contact with the girls on either side of him, and Allegra’s leaning all over Hugo, who’s now leaning on me as he tries to put some space between the two of them. All five of us are pretending to be fully engrossed in the chick flick Allegra picked out, which—oh fabulous—is about to move into a sex scene I TOTALLY forgot about when I agreed to this movie.

“More popcorn?” I blurt out, jumping to my feet just as Adam leans forward and says, “Another drink, anyone?”

I meet his eyes for a second before he looks away, and I have to work hard to not laugh. Clearly Adam’s seen this movie before—and he knows what’s coming. I skip off to the kitchen to make popcorn while Adam takes drink requests. He joins me after a few moments, carrying empty glasses in his hands.

I place a bag of unpopped popcorn in the microwave as Adam takes clean glasses from the cupboard. I lean against the table as the popping begins, waiting for Adam to say something.

He says nothing.

“That was getting way too awkward,” I say, attempting to lighten the atmosphere between us. “Let’s hide in here until the sex scene is over.”

Adam laughs as he pours Sprite into a glass, but it isn’t his normal laugh, and I can see the tops of his ears turning red. Great. I think I just made the awkwardness worse. He fills a glass with water—probably for Salima—and adds it to the collection of drinks while managing to look everywhere except at me.

“Oh my heck.” I drop into a chair. “I can’t take this anymore.” I point at him. “You. Chair. Now. Prepare for confrontation.”

“W-what?” He seems too startled to sit, but he’s finally looking at me, so that’s good.

“We slept in the same bed for a night. SO WHAT. Yes, it was kinda weird, and your leg was on my leg, and we were sorta spooning, and I moaned ’cause I thought I was in my own bed stretching out, but NO BIG DEAL, right? So let’s stop tiptoeing around each other and just get back to normal. Okay?”

His ears are burning even more now, and his cheeks appear to be joining the blush party, and it’s actually pretty darn cute, which is probably I’m now wondering what it would be like to kiss him, even though most of my brain knows it isn’t worth risking our friendship just to find out.

Friendship. That’s the most important thing here. I don’t want to lose that.

“Please?” I say. “I don’t want things to be weird. I miss just hanging out.”

He half-smiles. “It’s only been five days, Liv.”

“And what a TERRIBLE five days they were.”

He lets out a long, slow breath. “Okay. You’re right. We’re just two friends who happened to fall asleep next to each other. It really doesn’t have to be weird.”

“Exactly. Oh! The popcorn!” The pops have slowed down to about-to-burn speed, so I jump up and hit the stop button on the microwave. I open the bag and empty the popcorn into a bowl, looking out for burnt bits. I sniff. No burning-popcorn smell. Excellent. “Do you think it’s safe for us to go out there?” I say, hugging the bowl to my chest.

“I think so. Hugo just laughed.” We head down the passage, me with the popcorn bowl and Adam practising his waiter skills with a tray of glasses. He nudges my arm with his elbow. “It was kinda funny when you moaned.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. “If you mention my moaning to anyone, I will bring up the naked butt moment.”

He fakes a terrified expression. “My lips are sealed.”

I try not to imagine his lips—or his butt—as we squeeze back into our places on the couch.

Resume awkwardness.

***

Salima is the first to leave after the movie finishes. “That,” she says, pointing towards my house as we stand beside her car, “is why I don’t watch movies. It’s all ridiculous romance stuff designed to tempt me into wanting a relationship with a boy who’ll only end up distracting me from my studies.” Then she leaves before I can explain that lots of movies aren’t about ridiculous romance stuff.

The next to leave is Hugo, who gives some lame excuse about needing to pick up Lainey from somewhere when Adam reminds him they’re meant to be playing Xbox now. We all know the real reason he’s so eager to get out of here, though—Allegra. I want to smack her for being so snuggly with Hugo when he clearly wasn’t interested, but I decide to save that until Hugo’s left the house.

The door closes behind him, and I get ready to—

“I don’t think he likes me,” Allegra says immediately. “Did you get that vibe from him? I was just trying to be friendly and he kept shrinking away from me.”

Adam rolls his eyes and heads back into the lounge with a sigh.

“Allegra,” I say slowly. “You were being a little bit
too
friendly. I think you may have scared him.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Anyway, do you want to stay a bit and play Xbox?”

She hesitates, then says, “Okay, so this is the part where I’d usually make up an excuse about a prior engagement I have that’s way more fun and cool, but since we’re doing the
real
friends thing … is it okay for me to say that I hate the idea of playing on an Xbox and I just want to lie on my bed and watch another chick flick?”

I smile. “It’s definitely okay.”

“Cool. Well, I’m off then.” She grabs her handbag from inside the lounge doorway, and I open the front door for her. “Bye!” she sings as she runs down the steps.

I shut the door, then slowly wander back into the lounge. “So,” I say to Adam. “Let’s
not
do that again.” I shiver—damn, that gust of air from outside was freezing—and rub my hands up and down my arms.

“Agreed,” Adam says. He lifts his crumpled jersey from the arm of the couch and throws it at me before crouching in front of the fireplace and arranging a few logs of wood. “You girls can have your chick flicks, and Hugo can come over whenever Allegra
isn’t
around.”

Biting back the urge to say, “Ooh, the forbidden jersey,” I curl up on the couch and pull the jersey on over my head. “I don’t think Salima will ever watch another chick flick. That sex scene probably scarred her for life.”

Adam shakes his head with a chuckle as he lights the fire. “You still think I should ask her out?”

“Oh.” I rub my finger over a small patch on my knee that looks like it was a crumb of chocolate before it got squished into my jeans. “Well, it’s up to you. I’m pretty sure she’ll say no, though.”

“Yes, I’m also pretty sure. I asked her last weekend if she’s dating anyone, and she very firmly told me she doesn’t plan to date while studying.”

“You—oh.” I force my expression into neutral. Wouldn’t want to look too gleeful about Salima not being interested in dating Adam.

“Yes, so I’m guessing she’s uncomfortable around all guys, so it didn’t mean anything when you mentioned my name to her and she blushed.”

“Right. But, I mean, I’m sure there are other girls you could ask out. If you wanted to, of course.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He dusts his hands off and walks back to the couch. “I’m not really good at that stuff, though. Not like you.”

I’m distracted for a moment by the sound of the rain starting up once more, but then I focus on what Adam said. “What stuff?”

“Well, you know, flirting and all that. I’d probably stumble over some embarrassing pick-up line, and I’d never see the girl again. I don’t imagine you’d have that problem.”

“Oh yes,” I say with a laugh. “I am SUPER skilled in the flirting department. That must be how I ended up flashing half of Clifton when I was trying to be sexy.”

“You—when—” The tips of his ears start going red again, but he laughs, and this time it’s a real laugh. “You see? You can say that kind of thing without getting the slightest bit embarrassed. I can’t.”

“Of course you can.” I throw one of the couch cushions at him. “You just need practise. Come on. Hit me with your worst pick-up lines, and we’ll laugh about them until you’re not embarrassed anymore.”

He sighs, but he seems to be considering it. “Okay, I’ve got one.”

“Ooh, wait, wait. I’m not ready.” I sit up and cross one leg over the other. “Okay, I’m sitting at the bar in
Jazzy Beanbag
, all alone, sipping on my drink, and you come up to me and say …”

“Hey there.” His voice is low and sexy. “Is your name Wi-fi? Because I’m feeling a connection.”

I fall back on the couch laughing. “That is so cheesy.”

“Also,” Adam continues, not breaking character, “I was wondering if your father’s a boxer, because you’re a total knockout.”

I sit up, trying desperately to stop laughing. “Why thank you. You know, I’m not a photographer or anything, but I can picture you and me together.”

Adam chuckles, then moves a little closer on the couch. He rubs a section of his T-shirt sleeve between his thumb and forefinger. “Feel that? That’s marriage material, baby.”

“Oh really?” I manage to say through my giggles. “You might want to keep marriage references till the third or fourth date. Wouldn’t want to scare the girl away.”

“Would this scare her?” Adam asks. He grabs my hand, holds it to his chest, and stares adoringly up at the ceiling as he says, “Our love is like dividing by zero. It cannot be defined.”

I roll over, laughter erupting uncontrollably from me. “You cheesy maths nerd. You see? You can totally do this pick-up line thing.”

Adam tosses a cushion at me. “Yes, because this is a ridiculous game, not the real thing.”

“Okay, okay, be serious.” I sit up and flatten my hands against my cheeks. “No laughing. Give me a real one.”

Adam closes his eyes, sucks his cheeks in, and breathes deeply. “Okay.” He opens his eyes. “Yoda one for me.”

Giggles attack me again. “I said a
real
one, silly.”

He stands up and holds his hand out to me. “Wanna dance? I can really put your inertia in motion.”

“Ooh, dancing. That’s a good one.” I take his hand and let him pull me up. “Only if you know what you’re doing, though.”

“What’s to know?” Adam says, putting one hand beneath my shoulder blade and holding my other hand up. “Just sway back and forth and add a few twirls and spins here and there.”

“Man, this girl isn’t going to know what’s hit her,” I joke, trying to keep myself laughing so I don’t think about the romantic mood lighting and the soft pattering of rain and the fluttering in my chest.

Adam spins me out and pulls me back. “You,” he says, ignoring the fact that I almost trip over his feet when I curl back into his chest, “are hotter than the bottom of my laptop.”

“Okay, that’s quite funny.” I twirl beneath his arm and—after losing our imaginary beat while trying to figure out where to put my arms—we end up in the same position as when we started. “Because I picked up your laptop at
Jazzy Beanbag
last weekend, and I almost burnt my fingers.”

“Finally. A line you actually like.” Our side-to-side swaying slows, and Adam seems to be making up for not looking at me all week, because now he won’t
stop
staring into my eyes. “There’s an eighth wonder in the world,” he says, “and I’m looking at it.”

I groan. “Are we heading back to cheesy land?”

Adam nods and smiles. “I think I need a map, because I’m getting lost in your eyes.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out way too breathy. The atmosphere between us has changed, and I’m not sure how, but I
know
he isn’t talking to some imaginary future girl anymore. He’s talking to me.

He pulls me closer so that my cheek is against his shoulder and his lips are by my ear, and he softly says, “You must be a fourth or a fifth, because you’re perfect.” Then, without warning, he dips me down low and holds me there. “And even if there were no gravity on earth, Livi, I’d still fall for you.”

And then he kisses me.

Shivers zing along my arms, and a fire ignites inside me. I want to stay in this moment forever, suspended in Adam’s arms, his lips pressed against mine. But then he swoops me back up, and I’m breathless and dizzy, and I’d probably fall over if he didn’t catch me.

“Livi,” he whispers, his hands moving to either side of my face. The way he says my name makes the fire blaze brighter inside my chest. I grab hold of his T-shirt and pull him closer. His fingers slide through my hair, and his lips graze over mine, gently, leaving tingles wherever they go.

Closer. I want to be closer.

My arms are around his neck now, and his hands are sliding down my sides and wrapping around my waist. We’re pressed together, no space between us, and I can feel the wild thudding of my heart and his breath against my lips and his hands fisting in the jersey at the small of my back.

He moves backwards, and the next thing I’m aware of is the couch right behind him, knocking into the back of his knees, and me falling ungracefully on top of him as he goes down. My chin bumps his glasses, and we both end up laughing. But then I pull my knees up so I’m straddling him, and his hands find their way around my waist again, pulling me against him, and all the laughter is sucked out of the room as I lower my lips to his. I run my tongue over his bottom lip, smiling against his mouth when I feel his breath quicken even more. Our tongues slide over each other, causing a heat explosion in my chest. His hands slip beneath the jersey, beneath my T-shirt, and an embarrassing moan escapes my lips as his fingers trace the skin just above my jeans.

His lips move away from mine, kissing my chin, my jaw, my neck. “I have … a confession,” he whispers, his lips tickling me as they move against my skin. “I knew you were still next to me when I fell asleep last Sunday night. But I wanted you there, so I didn’t wake you.” He kisses my lips again. “And also—” he cups my face with both hands and waits for me open my eyes and look at him “—I think it’s incredibly sexy when you wear my clothes.”

A smile grows slowly on my face. “No way. We had a major fight because I was wearing your jersey.”

He closes his eyes and groans, which he probably doesn’t realise sends my blood pumping even faster through my body. “That was mainly because I felt so guilty when I realised I
liked
seeing you in it.”

“Well, you know …” I place my hands on either side of him and lean forward until our faces are so close we’re almost touching, and then I stop, because I like how it makes my heart race faster and his breath come quicker and the heat inside me burn hotter. “I don’t exactly need it on right now,” I whisper.

He swallows. “That’s okay. Doesn’t change how sexy you are in it.”

I lean back. “Are you sure? It doesn’t, perhaps, look a little more sexy like this?” I grasp the edges of the jersey and slowly, ever so slowly, pull it up. A memory of the bikini incident flashes through my mind, and I almost start giggling, but darn it, I WILL get the sexy move right this time. The jersey slowly comes over my head, and I drop it on the floor behind me as my hair falls around my shoulders.

I don’t have time to gauge Adam’s reaction before he’s pulling my face closer and kissing me again, but I’m guessing I got the sexy move right this time. His fingers travel slowly down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps across my skin. I kiss his earlobe, then whisper, “It’s getting pretty warm in here. I may have to lose the T-shirt just now too.”

His grip on my arms tightens. His lips are like fire on my neck. “You’re not the only one feeling a little warm right now,” he breathes.

The doorbell rings.

“What the
…
” I pull away from Adam so quickly I lose my balance and topple backwards, but he grabs my arm, and I end up landing on my side on the couch next to him. I scramble to a sitting position. “What the
freak
? Who would be here
now
?”

“I … I don’t know.” He grabs a cushion. “Can you … see who it is?”

“What?” He wants
me
to open the door when we have no idea what kind of psycho could be standing on our verandah? “Why me?”

“Uh …” He looks at the cushion on his lap, his face turning red.

“Oh.” I stand up, slapping my hand over my mouth to stop the giggles.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s hilarious having guy problems. Just look out the window, okay?”

I move the curtain aside, peer out, and see Hugo’s car parked outside our gate. I groan and pull the curtain shut.

“What is it?” Adam asks, standing up but still holding the cushion in front of him.

I take a deep breath to push the laughter down, smooth my hair back, and say, “You need to talk to Hugo about his exceptionally bad timing.”

I walk to the front door and pull it open.

“Livi, hey. Uh, Adam’s still around, right?”

“Yes.” I step back, rubbing my neck self-consciously. I shut the door, then I run down the passage and into my room. I jump onto the bed, bury my face in a pillow, and squeal. When I can’t breathe anymore and have to surface for air, I grab my phone. I think about calling Sarah, or sending her a message, but then I put the phone down. I want to keep this deliciously wonderful feeling to myself for just a bit longer. And I want Hugo to leave ASAP so I can have Adam to myself again.

When half an hour has gone by without Hugo leaving, and I’m bored of hugging my pillow and staring happily at nothing, I head to the bathroom to get my nighttime routine done. Shower, teeth, contact lenses.

Now I’m SUPER sexy in my winter PJs, slippers and glasses—and Hugo’s still here. So I get my phone out to send Adam a message, hoping his phone is in the lounge and not his bedroom. I want to type something cute and flirtatious, but I can’t think of the right thing, so I end up staring at the screen until, ten minutes later, a message pops up with Adam’s name on it.

Adam: I’m so sorry. Hugo might be here for a while. Lainey drama.

Livi: Lainey drama? So they’re officially together now?

Adam: No. That’s part of the drama.

Livi: I miss you.

Adam: That’s crazy. You just saw me ;)

Livi: It’s not crazy.

Adam: It is. And you know what’s crazier? I miss you more.

Livi: OH MY GOSH I just realised something.

Adam: What?

Livi: Adam Anderson kissed me ;)

Adam: I think I also just realised something …

Adam: I kissed Livi Howard, and she kissed me back ;)

Livi: *blushing*

Adam: Ok Hugo’s starting to look at me funny. Should probably stop flirt-texting. Sleep tight, my princess.

Livi: xx

***

I wake up early. It’s Saturday, and I’d usually sleep in, but my heart is bursting with happiness and I can’t stay in bed a minute longer. I tiptoe to Adam’s door, quietly open it, and look inside. He’s fast asleep, and even though I want more than anything to slide under the covers and snuggle against him, I don’t want to wake him up. I got up for a bathroom visit at 2:51 am, and Adam and Hugo were still talking in the lounge. I don’t know when Adam eventually got to bed, but I’m guessing he needs his sleep.

Since I’ve got so much happy energy buzzing around my body, I decide to go to gym. I do a spinning class, and I’m feeling so energised, I don’t even cheat. We get to the half-hour point—the point at which I usually feel like collapsing in a sweaty heap on the floor—the instructor tells us to turn the resistance up, and I TURN IT UP. My legs are like wobbly pudding when I get off the bike, and I have to cling to the rail when climbing down the stairs to the change room, but I sing to myself the whole way there, right up until the point I realise I didn’t pack clean panties.

“Darn,” I mutter to myself. Option one: shower here and put sweaty panties back on. Ew. Option two: shower at home. I pack everything back into my bag and zip it up. I’m definitely showering at home. I stop on my way out and order a smoothie, then sit on the edge of a couch drinking it and watch the news on one of the big TV screens. No point in rushing home when I’m almost certain Adam is still sleeping.

I stop at the shop and grab some stuff for a surprise lunch for Adam—I’m thinking an indoor picnic in front of the fireplace—since he’ll be at work this evening, so I can’t very well surprise him with dinner. Well, not that I can really surprise him with anything, since we live in the same house, but I’ll make a plan.

By the time I get home, I’m shivering right to the core of my being. I’m still in my skimpy gym outfit, and the chilly air sweeping down from the mountain has long since dried the sweat on my body. Consuming half a litre of iced fruit before I left the gym didn’t help either.

I carry my gym bag and shopping up to the door, fumble with my bunch of keys, and—

The door swings open, revealing Adam on the other side of it. Wet hair ruffled up, cheeks pink—probably from the hot shower he just had—and those glasses I love so much. I almost drop my bags and leap into his arms, but something in his expression stops me.

“Adam?”

“Your prince is here to rescue you,” he says in a strange voice.

“W-what?”

“He even arrived on a white horse.” Adam gestures behind me, and I look over my shoulder and see a sleek white car with tinted windows parked on the other side of the street.

“Um … what’s going on?”

“You should be happy, Liv,” Adam says. “This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To be accepted by the right people.” He lifts a shoulder. “Can’t get more right than royalty, can you?”

“What … I don’t …”

He walks past me down the stairs, then stops and looks back. “Oh, and Hugo’s looking for a new place to live from next semester. I thought your room would be perfect. So you should probably start looking for a new home. Shouldn’t be a problem for you, though. No doubt you’ll be in a castle somewhere.”

“Adam, what are you—”

He turns away without another word. I run into the house, into the lounge, and—

“
Carl?
” My feet freeze to the ground and my brain backfires.

Carl. In Cape Town. In my house.

Not computing.

I blink, trying to get rid of the image of him sitting on the couch.

It doesn’t work. My German not-quite-a-real-prince prince, with his white-blond hair and those uncommonly dark eyes I used to dream about, jumps up from the couch and rushes over to me. His expression is joyful, hopeful, but all I can feel is my horror-filled stomach plummeting to my feet. “
What are you doing here?
”

“I got your messages.”

“My—what? Wait.” I run back outside, shouting for Adam, because this is all a stupid mistake, and if I could just talk to him … “Adam!” I yell. I reach the gate and look both ways down the road, but I don’t see him. Maybe he ran, or maybe he developed a superpower and flew right out of here. Either way, he’s gone.