12. Adam
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror for what felt like the tenth time this morning. My hair tended to swoop to one side, but it was like half of it had gotten up today and decided to protest, going the opposite way entirely. All I wanted was to get it to behave.
I smoothed out my shirt, noticing how it hung a little loosely around my waist. All at once I was convinced that it looked like a boxy rectangle, and I went back to my closet, taking it off and tossing it to the side. I put on a green button-down shirt with a faint leaf pattern all over it, taking another look in the mirror. It hugged my torso a little better. Or did it? I was sick of looking in the mirror. I never looked in the mirror this much.
Were all of my clothes just not right, somehow? I felt an urge to go update my wardrobe, another feeling that I'd never had until now.
I paced over toward the glass-paned windows in my bedroom balcony doors, looking out at the morning light. I breathed deep, realizing that my heart rate had gone up already and the day hadn't even started.
Fuckme, I was nervous to see Chase.
It had only been two days since I'd woken up on his couch, naked, embarrassed as all hell.
Early in the morning, I'd gotten up and thrown my clothes on. I left his apartment as quietly as I could, but the shame had followed me like a dog for the last 48 hours. Chase texted me a polite message saying the night had been fun, but it didn't do much to help.
I couldn't think about our night together without freaking out a little inside.
But… I also couldn't think of it without getting hard.
Really fucking hard, sometimes.
It was a cruel, delirious mixture of arousal and shame that felt similar to the lustful embarrassment I got the first few times I uploaded videos to OnlyShots. Being so turned on even when I felt like I'd done something wrong. Craving more, even though I'd been mortified waking up naked the next morning.
And today, the crew was coming over for more renovation and TV show filming. I was going to have to see Chase, and I had no idea what to expect now.
The doorbell rang out as I was looking at a bird on my balcony and I jumped.
I furrowed my brow, checking my phone. It was still thirty minutes before any of the Fixer Brothers guys were set to arrive. Who was ringing the doorbell so early?
I jogged downstairs and glanced out the front window before going to the door, only getting more confused. There was a cherry-red Ferrari in my driveway, and a man in a crisp business suit at the door.
What the hell?
The Fixer Brothers guys were doing well for themselves, but I knew none of them drove a Ferrari.
I swung open the front door.
"Good morning," the man said to me. He looked straight out of an episode of Mad Men—fancy, professional, and slick. "Emmett Waycott. You must be Adam."
"I am," I said, reaching out to shake his hand. "Adam Richardsen."
He must have heard the confusion in my voice. He gave me a polite smile. "I'm with Lux Marketing. We've been in talks with the Fixer Brothers. Did Shawn and Nathan let you know I was coming by to shadow them today?"
"Oh," I said, faintly recalling an email chain where Shawn mentioned a potential marketing firm looking to work with the company. "So you're the one who wants to take the Fixer Brothers to the next level? Come on in, by the way. Shit. Sorry, that was rude of me."
I'd already been flustered all morning, and this was a curveball I hadn't expected in the slightest. I felt like an insensitive prick sometimes when I lagged behind on social cues. This time, I could hear my mother's voice echoing in my head: always invite people in, don't leave them hanging at the door! Offer them a drink!
"Thank you," Emmett said, stepping inside.
"Would you like something to drink?" I asked him. "Coffee, water, orange juice?"
"I brought my trusty espresso and a cold-pressed green juice," Emmett said, tapping his fancy leather shoulder bag. "I'm more addicted to caffeine than I'd like to admit, but I figure the green juice balances it out with some nutrients."
I nodded once. "Tell me about it. I guzzle coffee like a pig at a trough."
It was an attempt at a light joke, and Emmett gave me another polite smile, even if it didn't quite make him laugh.
Having him in my house already felt like a puzzle I couldn't quite solve. Social interactions that I couldn't prepare for were always a wild card—I'd been agonizing over what I was going to say to Chase when he showed up, but Emmett was another beast entirely. He was clearly a very nice, very professional person, but I was no good at small talk.
"Here's the kitchen," I said as I led him into the house. "As you can see, it's a bit of a war zone, but the guys are making good progress."
The kitchen was full of construction equipment, half-finished with exposed wood and plaster all over the place. It smelled like the inside of a hardware store, and Emmett looked a little out of place in his perfect tailored suit.
"Very nice," Emmett said, looking all around. "I've been so impressed by what I've seen on the TV show."
"They're all great in front of a camera."
"You asked earlier if we're looking to take the Fixer Brothers show to the next level," Emmett offered. "It's not just the show, it's Fixer Brothers Construction themselves. I think the Fixer Brothers have the potential to be one of the biggest brands in the country."
"I agree," I said automatically. I searched internally for my mom's wisdom, again: Don't just say yes or no answers! Ask people questions! "What do you mean, exactly?"
Emmett's eyes sparkled. "I think Fixer Brothers could become a household name. I can see so much more than just bigger construction clients and a TV show. I see potential for branding deals with tool companies, home goods companies, even clothing companies. I could see multiple different TV shows. A TV channel of their own, if they wanted it."
"So, they could become the next Oprah?"
Emmett let out a hearty laugh, even though this time, I hadn't even known I was making a joke.
"I was thinking more along the lines of the hosts of Fixer Upper, or the Property Brothers, but sure," Emmett said. "They could be like Oprah, too. Hold on, Adam, I have to ask—is that a Tiffany Pilot House clock?"
I showed Emmett over to the dining area where he'd noticed the old clock that I'd inherited from my grandmother. It was apparently a collectors item, which I hadn't even known. Emmett told me all about the antiques that he collected, and I was shocked as the next half hour melted away. I'd thought that it would be a juggling act for me to make conversation with Emmett, but he was clearly used to it.
When the construction crew and camera crew showed up out front and started to filter inside, my nerves perked back up again. I turned to see a flash of blue-dyed hair outside and my stomach dropped like I'd missed a step on the stairs.
Shawn and Nathan came in first.
"Emmett," Shawn said as he came inside. "I didn't expect you to be here so early. Good morning."
"It's a pleasure to be here. Adam's been showing me around."
Nathan got caught up in a conversation with Emmett, Shawn took me aside in the hallway.
"I'm so sorry," Shawn said. "Was Emmett here for very long? Most of these bigwig business types only stop by for ten minutes, but he seems deeply interested."
"It was okay," I said. "He was here for a bit, but we got talking about a few things."
Shawn nodded. "I know you're not big on chatting with strangers. I apologize, really."
I was caught off guard. Did Shawn really think I was that hopeless with talking to new people? I mean, he was right, but a thread of guilt wound itself around me. I didn't want to be pitied, even if I was open about my social anxiety.
"I was happy to talk to Emmett," I said, standing up a little straighter. "He seems like a great guy."
Shawn gave me a nod. "Beautiful. Before we get started for the day, would you mind going out front and giving Chase a hand? He brought in donuts and pastries for everyone."
"I'm on it."
But by the time I looped back through the house and got to the front yard, I saw that Emmett had gone out and already offered Chase some help. He was walking alongside Chase, each of them with a stack of pink boxes in their arms.
"Morning, Adam," Chase said, his eyes landing on me.
"Morning," I said, squinting in the sun. "Need any more help bringing in boxes?"
"We have it covered now," Chase said. "Have you met Emmett?"
"Just this morning," I said, rounding back and holding open the front door for them to walk in.
"Last night, Chase and I were talking about how good the pastries at McKinnon's are," Emmett said, flashing me a smile. "Ever been?"
"McKinnon's?" I asked.
"It's a little French pastry place hidden away behind the hardware store on Maple Ave," Chase said. "I can show you sometime."
As they placed the boxes in the dining room, my head was spinning.
Emmett and Chase had been talking last night? While I'd been at home alone, agonizing over what I'd done at Chase's apartment, he'd been hanging out with Emmett?
Looking at the two of them now, it made so much sense. They were both great talkers, personable guys, and very good-looking. In fact, Chase and Emmett hanging out made a lot more sense than Chase hanging out with me.
Something inside me deflated like a popped balloon.
"My favorite one is the apple turnover," Chase said, opening one of the boxes.
"That one's always been my favorite, too," Emmett said with a smile. "Have you ever tried making them at home?"
"Yes, and it failed miserably," Chase said. "It wasn't flaky enough."
"The secret is to just get pre-made puff pastry," Emmett said. "It freezes well, and no one would ever know."
"Very sly," Chase offered.
I bit the inside of my cheek. I kept waiting for a moment to join in the conversation, but it didn't come. I had never baked much or anything at home before, and as Emmett and Chase started talking about trendy restaurants down in Denver, I was fully lost.
The two of them seemed to get along like old friends.
"Adam!" Charlie called out as he appeared, coming in from the back deck. "Carla is looking for you in the backyard."
"Be right there."
As I walked through the house I heard the sound of Emmett laughing at something Chase must have said, and a pang of jealousy hit me in the chest.
And I realized all at once what had happened. The one thing that I really, really had been trying to avoid. I'd been nervous about Chase since he'd watched me come the other night, nervous about what clothes I wanted to wear around him today, and nervous when he'd arrived.
And now I was jealous of him getting along so well with a fancy businessman?
It could only mean one thing.
I had a full-blown crush on Chase.
A crush that had crept up on me like a lion striking prey, quickly and viciously. And if there was anything I'd learned about crushes, it was that I fell too hard and too fast. If I'd learned anything about Chase, it was that he didn't do relationships, and didn't let himself fall for any one person. He liked to play the field. To keep his options open. And he could flirt with anybody like a goddamned pro.
In other words, exactly the kind of person that should be off-limits for a crush.
I stepped into the backyard and pulled out my phone to check it before going to find Carla.
I froze when I saw a notification from twenty minutes ago—right before Chase had arrived.
It was from him. And it was enough to drag me right back into wanting more, right when I knew I shouldn't.
Chase Blau: So when can I film you again?
Chase Blau: Because it's been all I can think about.