Mayhem Page 10

  “Just different.”

  “Well, I thought you were great,” I assure him.

  He grins at me and scratches the side of his chin with the fingers he’s not using to hold his cigarette. “So, better than just ‘alright’ then.”

  Letting my smile answer him, I tuck my legs into the stair railing and sit on the middle rail, resting my chin on my hands. I look up at Adam, watching him contentedly as I enjoy the cool night breeze that’s blowing across my skin.

  He takes one last long drag on the cigarette and then flicks it to the ground, smashing it with his toe. He points his chin toward where the bus is parked at the back of the lot. “Alright, come on.”

  When I unweave myself from the railing, he takes my hand again, and it startles me. Inside, he kind of needed to hold it just to get me out of there, but now? We’re the only two ­people in the parking lot . . .

  Adam walks me to the bus and unlocks it. I’m not sure where Driver is, but he hasn’t gotten back yet. “Do you want a drink?” Adam asks.

  “Nah, I think I’m going to go change.” I’m feeling muggy from the long car ride, and I want to change into something a little less stale and bummy.

  “Okay.” He grins at me. “Your stuff is upstairs. In the room all the way at the end of the hall.”

  I climb the stairs and begin walking back through the bus. It’s so weird being back here again. I remember the last time like it was yesterday and like it was a lifetime ago. I pass the bench seats, the rows of bunks—­most of them looking thoroughly slept in—­and then open the door to the bedroom. I walk inside and stare down at the black satin bed in front of my knees, remembering how it had felt to be stretched out on top of it with Adam pressed against me, kissing every bit of my skin that wasn’t covered.

  When I hear the door close behind me, it shocks me from the memory. I spin around to find Adam’s chest right in front of my face. I gasp, inhaling his musky scent. He smells like clean sweat, day-­old cologne, and cigarette smoke, which I wouldn’t have considered a pleasant combination before I associated it with this moment. Before I know it, his hands are on the sides of my neck, his thumbs under my chin, tilting my head back. His gray-­green eyes are focused on my mouth, and his lips are quick to follow.

  For a second, I can’t think straight and I instinctively drink him in. His tongue slips between my lips, tracing and teasing and oh my God, I had forgotten what that tongue could do. Just before a moan slips from my mouth, I find the sense in myself to push him away. “What the hell are you doing?” I force myself to ask, trying to ignore how badly my heart is pounding in my chest.

  Adam caresses my jaw with his thumb, staring down at me with bedroom eyes. “Kissing you.” The desire in his voice causes a surge of heat to flood my entire body, thickening the haze in my head.

  “Why are you kissing me?”

  “Because . . . um . . .” He tilts his head to the side and looks at me curiously. “Okay, I think I’m confused . . .” His hands slide down my neck, over my shoulders, and then drop back to his sides. I immediately ache for them to be back on me, but that is such a bad idea. This isn’t what I came on this trip for. “Don’t you want me to?”

  Dear God yes.

  I mean—­No!

  My eyebrows furrow and I cross my arms over my chest as I stare up at him. “Why would you think I want you to?”

  “Well . . . you saved me from getting kicked out of French class . . . and you made up this whole tutoring lie . . .” And that quickly, any desire I’d been feeling is blown to bits.

  “Oh my GOD,” I say, in utter disbelief. “You think I did that because I want to . . . to have sex with you?!” When he just stares at me like he’s still confused as hell, any doubt I had vanishes. I’m angry, and beyond embarrassed, which makes me even angrier. “I can’t BELIEVE this!” I shout. The room is suddenly way, way, way too freaking small for the both of us, so I slip around him and open the door, stepping into the hallway. “You thought—­oh my God, I can’t believe you thought that!” I whirl on him, and he’s just standing in the doorway with wide eyes, like he doesn’t know how to handle me. “And you were going to do it, too! Christ, Adam, you were going to sleep with me for French lessons? For tutoring?” When he doesn’t deny it, I take a step toward him, pointing at his chest. “Please! Get some damn self-­respect.”

  Loud laughter suddenly fills the lower level of the bus, and I realize that the rest of the guys have been on board for I-­don’t-­know-­how-­long. I storm away from Adam and jog down the stairs, shooting them an irritated look, but they’re all laughing so hard they barely notice me. Shawn is on his back on the gray bench seat, holding his hand over his stomach as he completely loses it. Mike is on his knees on the ground, his arms wrapped around himself as he keels over laughing. Cody is wiping his eyes with his palms as he laughs so hard he cries, and Joel is clapping him on the back, laughing so hard he sends himself into a coughing fit.

  “Self-­respect,” Shawn chokes out in the middle of his laughter.

  Ignoring them, I push open the door to the bus and step outside. I can’t believe that this entire time—­the car ride, the concert, the past thirty-­six freaking hours—­Adam thought I was just some groupie trying to weasel my way into his pants!

  “Hey, uh . . .” His voice comes from behind me, but it only prompts me to start walking. I don’t even know where I’m going, just as long as it’s away from him. “Hold on!” he says as he jogs to keep up with me. “What the hell are you so mad about?”

  I ignore him and keep walking.

  “Where are you even going?”

  “Away!”

  Adam doesn’t say anything else, but he falls into step beside me. And then we’re just walking together through the dark parking lot. I have no idea where I’m going. Adam pulls shades from his back pocket and slips them on, messing up his hair and staring at the ground as we walk past a group of ­people who probably just left the show.

  When we reach the sidewalk, I pause and stand beneath a street lamp as I wait for the crosswalk sign to tell me it’s okay to keep running away from my embarrassment. No one is standing near us, so I turn to Adam and blurt, “I do NOT want to sleep with you!” I swat at a bug that flies in front of my face, making contact and knocking it straight into another hemisphere.

  Adam gapes at me for a second, but then an irritating smirk curves his lips. “Really? I mean, are you sure?” Okay, now he’s just intentionally being obnoxious.

  I let out an exasperated sigh and turn away from him, crossing the street.

  He starts laughing and chases after me. “I’m kidding!”

  “I don’t think you are!”

  “Oh, come on. I really am!”

  “Really?! Because it really seems like you think everything with a vagina wants to sleep with you!”

  “Well, not everything with a vagina . . . I mean, lesbians, nuns . . . that’d just be weird.”

  I roll my eyes and keep walking. We’ve walked two blocks when Adam says, “Anyway, I don’t know why you’re so pissed I kissed you. You wanted me to.”

  I stop walking and spin to face him. “I did not!” Okay, so maybe I kind of did, but still, he had no way of knowing that. And I didn’t really want him to. It’s just . . . I mean . . . he’s Adam freaking Everest!

  “Then why did you kiss me back?”

  “I didn’t!”

  “You definitely didn’t stop me right away.”

  “I was in shock!”

  Adam stares down at me, licking his bottom lip. Shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “I wanted to kiss you. So I did.” His gaze lifts from my lips to my eyes. “No need to throw a tantrum. Most girls would be . . . well, they wouldn’t be storming around the city in the middle of the night.”

  “Well I’m not most girls!”

  Adam chuckles. “No, you’re definitely
not.”

  Wow, what the hell is that supposed to mean?! I glare at him and start walking again, the cement beneath my feet receiving the brunt of my anger as my flip-­flops tromp against it.

  Adam jogs to catch up. “I meant that as a good thing!” I glare at him out of the corner of my eye, and he’s nervously raking his hand through his hair. “Can you please just stop so I can talk to you?”

  “We’ve been talking.”

  “No, we’ve been arguing . . . which is just . . . strange. I don’t really do this that often . . . I’m no good at it.”

  I walk a few more steps before I growl and very angrily sit my ass down on a bench in front of a closed barber shop. “Fine. Talk.”

  He sits down next to me. “I . . . I didn’t mean to assume that you wanted to . . . you know . . . hook up or anything. But it was an honest mistake.”

  “I’m not interested in being one of your one-­night stands, Adam.”

  “Well . . . technically . . . you’d have me for three.” The corner of his mouth quirks into a smile, and when he turns his head to look at me, his bangs tumble over his eyes, but he quickly swipes them away. Why is he so damn adorable? And irritating!

  I glare at him. “Do I seem like that kind of girl?”

  He pauses for a long time, and then he says, “Truthfully, you’d be surprised by some of the girls that want that type of thing. Not all of them fit the stereotype you have in your head.”

  Okay, fair enough. I sigh and ask, “Would you seriously sleep with someone for something as stupid as French tutoring?”

  Adam grins at me and shakes his head. “Is that what you’re mad about? It’s not like that was the only reason.”

  I probably shouldn’t ask what I ask next. “Then what are the other reasons?”

  “I thought you wanted me to . . .”

  “So you’d sleep with someone just because they want you to?”

  He nervously rubs his palm over his thigh, staring at his knees until he makes eye contact with me again. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  I let out an irritated growl, still not exactly sure why I’m so worked up. “Look, I was mad because you just assumed I’d want you in my pants. But whatever. You said you’re sorry, so . . . fine.”

  Adam frowns. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “You can’t. You have a show tomorrow that’s like ten hours away from school.”

  He shifts toward me. “If you want to go home, I’ll take you. So just answer the question.”

  I study his unreadable expression, and then I say, “No. I don’t want to go home.”

  He smiles softly and seems to let out a deep breath. Then he settles back into the bench and plays with the threads over his knee for a few seconds before looking at me again. “Okay, so don’t get mad at me for this . . . but I just think we should be clear. If I tried to kiss you again, you’d get mad?”

  I can’t help laughing at his ridiculous question. But when I try to answer it, I realize it might not be so ridiculous. Would I get mad? I have absolutely no clue. Probably, but it would really just be because I’m mad at myself for letting him cloud my better judgment. Adam is bad news. He’s a mountain of bad decisions wrapped in a beautiful package, and I hate the effect he has on me. And I love it, which I hate. “Yes,” I finally say. “So don’t, okay? I just want to be friends.”

  “Friends . . .” he says, like he’s testing out the concept.

  “Friends.”

  He stands up and holds his hand down to me. “Okay. We’ll be friends.”

  Chapter Twelve

  ADAM WALKS ME back to the bus, opening the door for me so I can climb inside. The minute I step into view, Shawn pushes himself off the bench seat and walks over to me with a cheek-­to-­cheek grin on his face. “Can I . . . Can I just—­” He abruptly pulls me in for a tight hug and starts laughing again. “Self-­respect.” His body shakes against me as his laughter gets louder, and then he sighs. “Oh my God, that was so great.” He pulls away and smiles down at me. His jaw is dusted with day-­old shadow, his forest-­green eyes warm when he says, “I think I love you.”

  “Hey!” Mike shouts from where he’s sitting on the floor playing video games with Cody. “I called her first!”

  “Technically, I called her first,” Adam says from behind me. When he walks past, he swoops in to plant an exaggerated smooch on my cheek. I blush and wipe it away, but I’m smiling when he looks back at me with a grin on his face. “Want something to drink now?”

  I’m about to tell him “sure” when the bus door opens and Driver steps on, followed by a group of girls who look like models for Hoes-­R-­Us. Driver leads the five of them on board without introductions, but the girls don’t seem to mind. They immediately flock to Adam, swarming him as he waits for my answer.

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” I finally say, feeling like an idiot for blatantly gawking at the new arrivals.

  Adam mixes me some type of fruity cocktail, but his attention is already elsewhere. The blonde pressing against his side, the hottest one of the bunch, is giggling and tracing her fingernail over his neck, whispering something in his ear. There’s a redhead and a brunette competing for his attention too. One of the other girls is sitting on the bench seat with Shawn, on his lap. Cody sets his game controller down and starts chatting up the fifth.

  “Uh, I’m going to get ready for bed,” I say to no one in particular. My voice seems to jar Adam back to the present, and he remembers to bring me my drink. When he hands it to me, he looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can, Mike interrupts him.

  “Rowan!” he shouts from the floor. “Come fill in for Cody!” I inch away from Adam, who is already the meat in a groupie-­sandwich again, and stand behind Mike, staring at the war game on the screen. “Hop in here! I’m dying!”

  “But I don’t know how to play . . .”

  Mike hands me the spare controller, playing one-­handed with his eyes glued to the screen. “You can’t be any worse than shorty over there.” He nods his chin toward Cody, who doesn’t notice or care as he flirts with the girl he’s sitting with. I chuckle and sit down next to Mike, our knees squished together. I’m not a gamer, but I pick things up quickly.

  “Holy shit!” Mike says after a few minutes, a second after I blow up an enemy compound. “Guys! You should see this girl!”

  The guys are . . . otherwise occupied. Mike glances over his shoulder at them and scoffs. “Fricken groupies.”

  I can’t help sneaking a peek at Adam, who is now sitting at the other end of the bus. He’s leaning back in the bench seat near the front, sipping on a glass of whiskey while three of the girls chat him up. Their hands are all over him. My gaze lifts from their hands to his eyes and . . . is he staring at me? Yeah . . . he’s definitely staring.

  “Head in the game, Ro!” Mike says, and I quickly look away.

  “Sorry.”

  Mike flashes a knowing glance in my direction. It isn’t until I see that look on his face that I realize how irritated I feel that Adam is entertaining other girls—­one under his arm with her hand on his chest, one with her leg draped over his knee, and one with her chin resting on her friend’s shoulder, batting her eyelashes and playing with her hair.

  “Hoes will be hoes,” Mike offers with a shrug, and I can’t help but crack a smile, because I’m not sure if he’s referring to Adam or the entire band or the girls or all of the above.

  After completely slaughtering the enemy for a few rounds, I stand up and stretch, watching as Joel follows a girl from where they were doing God-­knows-­what upstairs. His blond mohawk is still perfectly gelled into place, but her long chestnut waves look thoroughly tangled. He opens the door to the bus and starts to usher her off with his hand on her lower back. She turns around to give him a kiss, but it’s so awkward—­she’s trying to make it passionate, he’s trying
to make it quick, and the resulting effect makes me cringe.

  Should I feel sorry for her? Because I’m pretty sure I don’t . . .

  After practically steamrolling the girl off the bus, Joel walks over to stand next to me, admiring the scores that are still displayed on the screen. “Holy shit. Look at that kill count!” He nudges me with his elbow. “Mike really is going to marry you!”

  “Hell yeah I am!” Mike says, turning his head to smile up at me. “You down for another round?”

  “Nah, I think I’m going to go get some air.”

  I turn around, shock widenening my eyes when I see Adam now full-­on making out with the blonde he’s sitting with. She’s on his lap practically eating his face. Her friend is kissing his neck, and the fourth wheel has moved to the other side of the bus to sit with Shawn and the girl he’s with.

  I’m going to have to walk right past all of them.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  I look anywhere but at Adam’s gorgeous face as I move down the aisle. I’ve barely passed him when he breaks his lips free and quite breathlessly says, “I’ll come with you.”

  When I look back at him, the two girls he’s with look just as confused as I feel. One of them squeaks, “But—­”

  “Hey, Joel,” Adam interrupts, shifting the girl off his lap and peeling the other’s hands from his neck so he can stand up. “Have you met . . . uh . . .” He’s staring down at the blonde.

  “Amber . . .” she finishes for him, and I bite back a snicker.

  “Amber! And . . . her friend . . .” He’s staring at the redhead now, and it’s obvious he has no idea what her name is either. “This redheaded bombshell here.”

  Joel laughs and shakes his head. “Oh no you don’t.”

  Adam stares down at the now pouting girls. His black-­nailed thumb points back at me. “I’m going to take my friend here out for some air. But I’m sure one of the guys here would be happy to make you ladies some drinks.”

  “NOT IT!” Mike calls. Joel presses his pointer finger to his nose, and Shawn looks up, realizing he’s the only one left since Cody has disappeared with one of the girls upstairs.