A/N: Something small I decided I needed to get up fr the fact I've abandoned my poor Adam :(. Sooo this is what I think goes on in his mind!
Disclamier: If I owned Adam.... I would not have him crushing on Kylie. He'd be with me :)
I guess you could say I'm a little bit shy. Well, not so much as shy, but I do get nervous. A lot. When I find myself in an awkward or unnerving situation, my brain goes a thousand ways instead of the usual 8. These include, video games, large science words only I understand, music, comics and anime, Star Wars and Star Trek, food, breathing, and of course. Getting laid.
That's probably number two on the list. Right after video games. Those two vary from 1st and 2nd, depending on if the girl gives you a sandwich first, and how hot her ass looks in the jeans she's wearing.
See, look at me, I'm getting off topic, I was talking about being shy and now I'm watching Kylie Flack walk by my lab, her hips swaying as she walks. Her ass is definitely a solid 10. Well it's a 10 until you put her friend, Niki Foxx besides her. Then it's a 9.5. I hate to say Niki has a slightly better ass than her. But I'd sill prefer Kylie to Niki. Kylie's more my type.
I mean, not that I stare at it all of the time. Just sometimes. When she's walking by like right now, or when she bends over to pick something up from the lower cabinets. And when she needs help reaching the higher ones, I try my best not to stare at her boobs. It's hard though sometimes. But can you blame me? I mean she's pretty and I'm a guy. I like asses and boobs. Assess more though.
What was I talking about? Right. Nerves. I can't help it when I'm nervous, I twitch, I stutter, I say things that pop into my head but may not necessarily sound right when spoken in front of people like Kylie. And your boss. Mac. Woo. Well Mac is a no non-sense guy, and I'm definitely a non-sense guy. But I guess he kind of likes it because he keeps me around even though I say silly things, and I'm not the best-coordinated guy around. And I like to dance in the lab. Kylie gets a kick out of that sometimes, even though it makes me blush and I turn into Nervous McGeek.
She also gets a kick out of the stupid things I say when no one else does. Once, I tried to make up a rap about being called . She'd been the only one in the room that giggled. Hawkes, Stella, and Mac, though used to my usual dork self, didn't laugh. They ignored the rap and started talking CSI mode.
See how I keep coming back to Kylie? I can't help it. Everything that I do turns into thinking about Kylie. I think what I wanted to say from the beginning was, I didn't have a good childhood. That's right. I wanted to talk about my old man.
Well he…he definitely doesn't deserve the parent of the year award. He beat me up. He was a big ole' bully. I don't really like talking about it, but he is the reason I'm a dork. Men that are superior to me make me nervous. Ie, Flack, Mac, Danny, Sinclair. Must I go on?
Flack's the worst of them though, because he knows I have a crush on his baby sister. It's not that I can help it though. I mean she's hot, and she has that cute giggle that makes me get all…flustered. And her ass, well we've covered that already. Once again, here I am finding my mind becoming dumbfounded over Kylie.
The first time I'd met Kylie, was about three years ago, back when she worked with SVU. Danny and I had been held hostage at a crime scene because some Irish drug loads wanted their dope back. And of course, after a few hits, they had my pussy self spilling everything they needed to know to get what they wanted.
And a few hours later, Kylie was in the hospital asking me questions, taking pictures of my wounds, and chatting up a storm. She had called me a hero. And I had replied with a few stutters and a headshake, and informed her Danny had been the real hero. He'd been the one that got beat up so I could grab the sulfuric acid. Yup. There went my pussy self again. I should have played it off as nothing, instead of getting so bashful like that.
Kylie had given me an innocent smile, and grabbed my wrist where a few previous scars had been, and ran her fingers along them. "Scars tell the stories of heroes," she told me. "See," she giggled, pulling her elbow up to show me a pretty sick scar. She must have heard about my past because the next thing she had said was "If you ever wanna talk…I'm thinking about transferring over to the lab."
And of course I had said thanks. But I never took her up on that offer. Big mistake, doofus.