"This is a bad idea," Connie insisted for the fiftieth time that week. "What if no one bids on one of you? That's more humiliating then going to the dance alone,"
"It's for charity, Moreau. All proceeds go to homeless puppies! Everyone wants to help homeless puppies," explained Goldberg.
It was the Friday before the Thanskgiving Dance and the Ducks were preparing for the auction at Lunch. Dean Buckley had agreed with Russ that it was a great idea and had signed off immediately, much to everyone who already had a date's chagrin. Charlie and Guy had been complaining about Linda and Alexa having to pay since Russ had brought it up to them for the first time and Connie and Julie weren't exactly excited about having to fight off the cheerleaders for Luis and Adam. Still, the boys who always seemed to be single were excited, and it was admittedly nice to see that. It was just worrisome that no one would want to go with them, and the lacrosse players would never let them live that down.
"Can we just get this bullshit over with already?" asked Luis, approaching the table that Connie and Goldberg were handing out tickets at.
"Can you not call it 'bullshit' too loudly? No one's gonna bid on you with that attitude," said Goldberg.
Connie laughed. "Maybe in an alternate universe," she turned to Luis. "Just go line up with the others, babe. We're gonna start in a couple minutes,"
Luis rolled his eyes and sauntered off. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you guys make kind of a weird couple," Goldberg said, handing a ticket to a freshman.
"How could I possibly take that the wrong way?" Connie questioned sarcastically.
"I just mean that you're too similar, you know? It's not really a good balance,"
"Too bad we never asked for your opinion," she ripped another ticket from the batch.
"I've just – y'know, I've known you all my life. You like hooking up with the bad guys, but the bad guys aren't the ones you want to stay with. You like those All American, apple pie eating good guys," Goldberg explained. He'd forgiven her about the prank a while ago, and although he wouldn't admit it to her, he knew that she'd done it for the right reasons. And he'd kind of deserved it. He was willing to go back to just being bantering buddies with Connie.
"Luis is a good guy. You don't know what you're talking about,"
Goldberg attempted not to scoff out loud. Connie may have been a slut and a bitch, but she was a nice girl deep down. She had a huge heart, something that Luis lacked. She was going to get attached to the kid, and he was gonna break her. Not wanting to sound like he cared that much, Goldberg stayed quiet on that. "Whatever. Just watch yourself,"
"Yeah, I'll do that,"
"Connie!" Connie turned her head to the front of the cafeteria where Julie stood with a clipboard. "Time to start,"
The school had placed a platform against one of the walls for the Ducks to work from. All the guys except for Goldberg stood next to it, some looking more anxious than others. The girls taking part in the auction sat at the tables placed behind Connie and Goldberg's ticket table and the students who'd declined sat at the tables on the opposite end of the room.
Connie stood up and closed the ticket box, patting Goldberg on the shoulder. "Good luck," she said mockingly, even though she meant it. He sucked in a breath and followed her down the path to join the other guys. Julie handed Connie a microphone and sat down with some of the floor hockey girls.
"Welcome everyone," Connie said into the mic. The girls began clapping and there were a couple of cat calls from the guys in the back that she ignored. "Welcome to the first annual Eden Hall Ducks Auction. All proceeds from today's event will go to the Minneapolis Animal Shelter, so no donation is too small,"
"How much do we gotta pay for you?!" called one of the lacrosse guys.
"She's free!" another answered.
Connie swallowed harshly. Just ignore them. "Okay, so – I guess we'll get started then," she nodded at Charlie to hit play on the boom box, which began blaring a Destiny's Child song. "First up we have Les Averman . . ."
Averman did a cartwheel that ended with him falling on his ass. Connie's cheeks burned, afraid that this wasn't going to end well. "Les is number 4 on the Ducks and is an honors student in Chemistry and Film. He's a Saturday Night Live super fan, has seen Wayne's World more times then is appropriate and can make up a rap about yout name. Do I hear one dollar?"
A girl who Connie knew sometimes hung around Averman raised her hand, making Averman's face light up. "Okay, do I hear two dollars?"
The girl raised her hand again, clearly not understanding how this worked. This time, one of the Comedy Club ladies joined her. Connie did her best not to let out a sigh of relief. "Three dollars? Do I hear three dollars? Four dollars?"
Comedy Club's hand shot into the air, but Averman's friend shouted "Ten dollars!"
"Ten dollars, do I hear eleven dollars? Going once, going twice . . . sold to the girl in the yellow dress!" Clapping followed and Averman hurried to give his bidder a hug. Julie collected the money from her, as she volunteered to do for everyone.
"Next up, we have Adam Banks . . ."
Fulton and Russ practically shoved Adam up on to the stage. There was a burst of loud applause from nearly girl. "Adam is number 99 on our team. He's an honors student taking AP classes and he enjoys movies, literature and classical music. Do I hear one dollar?"
Fifteen different girls held up signs. "Do I hear two dollars? Three dollars?"
"Ten dollars!" called a redhead near the back.
"Ten dollars, do I hear eleven dollars?"
"Twenty dollars!" called another.
Adam looked like he was in physical pain. Julie had assured him that he was going to be one of the most sought after guys, but he'd denied this. He never knew when he was being flirted with.
He was up to fifty dollars when Julie finally put him out of his misery and bid a hundred dollars. Buckley had put a limit on the bids at a hundred, not wanting the kids to spend all of their parents' money. Adam may have been popular with the women, but not popular enough for a hundred bucks. "Going once, going twice – sold to the beautiful Cat lady up front," Connie winked as Adam jetted off the stage to go and sit with Julie.
"A hundred dollars on our second bachelor, that's a big one. Next up we have Charlie Conway . . ." another loud applause. "Number 96 and Captain of the Ducks since 1992. His best subject is History and he loves Pantera, pizza and cooking. Do I hear one dollar?"
"Three dollars!" came Linda's shrill voice.
Charlie blew her a kiss. "Three dollars, do I hear four dollars?"
"Six dollars!" said a brown haired girl.
"Ten dollars!" shouted a buck-toothed girl.
"Fifty dollars!" Linda shouted back. Connie didn't know why she seemed so defensive, she'd never known Linda to be the jealous type.
"Fifty one!" said one of the floor hockey girls.
"Fifty two!" Linda said back.
"Fifty three!"
They went at that for a bit until they reached seventy dollars, and the floor hockey player stopped there, not having that kind of money on her. Linda smiled and high fived one of her friends as Connie finalized the deal. "Sold to Miss Linda Avery,"
Charlie hopped off the stage effortlessly and pecked Linda on the lips, earning 'oohs' and 'ahhs' from those around them. "Bachelor number 3 is . . . Guy Germaine . . ." She'd been prepared for this awkwardness. Guy, charming as always, waved at the crowd and flashed a grin. "Guy is number 00 on the Ducks and his best subject is English. He likes animals, Jimi Hendrix and has the largest collection of records in the state. Do I hear one dollar?"
"Five dollars!" Alexa shouted. Connie wondered if she was going to try and rub this in.
"Seven dollars," a girl from the chess club offered.
"Twelve dollars," Alexa gave her a dirty look and her message was clear – 'how dare you bid on my boyfriend.'
"Twelve dollars, do I hear thirteen dollars?"
"Thirteen dollars," said chess club girl.
"Eighteen!" cried Alexa.
"Eighteen dollars, do I hear nineteen dollars?"
"Twenty!" said Chess Club.
"Twenty five," Alexa stood up, crossing her arms over her chest, silently daring the girl to keep going. The pretty blonde could be pretty scary, and she frightened Chess Club into staying quiet.
"Twenty five, going once, going twice – sold to Alexa Devaney!" Connie squeezed the mic in her hand. Guy didn't even look her way before he walked over to Alexa, and that shouldn't have hurt Connie's feelings but it did. They hadn't spoken since their fight last Sunday and she wanted desperately to have a real discussion.
"Okay, uh, next up is Greg Goldberg. Goldberg is one of our goalies and is number 33. His only good subject is Algebra and he might just be the best at the subject that I've ever seen. He enjoys Star Trek, sandwiches and video games. Do I hear one dollar?"
The same fear that had overcome her when it was Averman's turn returned. One of the girls from the video game club raised her hand. "One dollar,"
"One dollar, do I hear two dollars? Going once . . . going twice . . . sold to the lady in the pink jeans,"
Russ and Fulton broke out in laughter at the low price, but it was clear the others on the team were thankful that he'd been chosen at all. Goldberg seemed torn on his opinion, but he still gave the girl a hug and whispered a 'thank you' as she handed Julie the dollar.
"Bachelor number 5 is Luis Mendoza . . ." Connie hadn't even finished saying his name when half the hands in the room were raised. "He's number 22. His best subjects are Gym and Biology and he enjoys running, rap music and Adam Sandler. And I'm just going to go ahead and bid one hundred dollars right now – anyone else want to bid that high?"
Only about ten of the hands remained up. Luis smirked. "In the event of a tie, we're supposed to allow the contestant to choose his lady. So Luis, who'll it be?"
Luis had lent her the hundred dollars, so Connie had absolutely no worry that he wouldn't choose her. "I'm gonna have to go with the lovely Connie Moreau,"
The other girls groaned and the guys in the back whooped and hollered as Luis shoved his tongue down Connie's throat. "Watch it Mendoza!" said one of the lunch aides. (Connie wondered where the aide had been when she'd been cat called earlier). Luis existed the stage and winked at the crowd.
"Next up is Fulton Reed, number 44. Fulton excels in Geometry and Geology, and he's a fan of football, poetry and Mario Kart. Do I hear one dollar?" Fulton looked nearly as uncomfortable as Adam had, even though Connie knew that he was excited. He was a closeted romantic at heart.
"Two dollars!" shouted one.
"Five dollars!" came another's voice.
"Five dollars, do I hear six dollars?" asked Connie.
"Ten dollars!" the first girl repeated. Fulton smiled shyly.
"Fifteen dollars!" a different girl raised her hand.
"Twenty dollars," said the first girl once more.
"Thirty dollars!" the second girl called out.
"Forty dollars!" said the first girl again.
"Forty dollars going once, going twice . . . sold to the lady in the Janis Joplin shirt!" Connie patted Fulton on the shoulder and shoved him the tiniest bit. He was standing more awkwardly than he had been moments before. Whether he was pleased with his top bidder or not was unclear, because he gave her a big smile when he approached her.
"Dwayne Robertson, our resident cowboy . . ." Dwayne hopped on the stage with a grin that took up his whole face. He tipped his hat at the crowd. ". . . is number 7 on the Ducks. He's great in English class and he likes the rodeo, cartoons and Tex-Mex. Do I hear one dollar?"
There was silence. Fuck. Ken and Russ hid their faces in their hands and Connie couldn't blame them – the secondhand embarrassment was too much. This was exactly what she'd been afraid of. There was laughter coming from the lacrosse team and some of the girls who had been bidding lowered themselves in their seats.
"One dollar," came a small voice after a full minute. Connie was unsurprised to see that it was Julie.
"One dollar going once, going twice – sold to the wonderful, fantastic Julie Gaffney," It was a good thing that Dwayne wasn't the smartest guy in the world because he was completely unfazed. He jumped right to Julie and put his arm around her, saying something about being honored to go to the dance with her and Adam.
"Number 56 belongs to Russ Tyler, master of the knuckle puck," All the male Ducks applauded as Russ threw his hands in the air. "Russ is an honors student in three AP classes and he likes French fries, the National Lampoon movies and Eddie Murphy. Do I hear one dollar?"
One of the cheerleaders raised her hand. Connie didn't think that she even knew who Russ was and glared at her for a moment, afraid that this was a joke. She recognized this girl vaguely though – she sometimes helped Connie out in History and didn't seem like the cruel type. "Five dollars," she said.
"Five dollars, do I hear six dollars?"
"Seven dollars," said a girl from the Chess Club.
"Ten dollars," said the cheerleader.
Ken gave Russ a thumbs-up from the sidelines. "Fifteen dollars," said Chess Club.
The cheerleader must not have thought that Russ was worth more than that because she gave up. "Fifteen dollars going once, going twice . . . sold to the girl with the glasses!"
Russ was obviously disappointed that he was going with a nerd instead of a cheerleader and Connie wanted to slap him on the side of the head. He should be thankful that he was even going at all.
"We've only got one bachelor left, ladies, and this one's a good one. Ken Wu is an former Olympic figure skater and he's number 16. He takes all AP classes and is on the honor roll and he likes Stephen King, veganism and politics. Do I hear one dollar?"
About five girls raised their hands. Connie smiled to herself. Ken was such a nice guy, he deserved to have girls fighting for him. "Okay, two dollars, do I hear two dollars?"
The same five girls raised their hands and two of them upped their bids to five dollars.
"Six dollars," said one of them.
"Ten dollars," said the other.
"Ten dollars, do I hear fifteen dollars?" Connie raised her eyebrow.
"Twenty dollars," said the taller of the two girls.
"Twenty five," said the other.
"Thirty,"
The shorter girl shrugged. Connie figured she was a scholarship kid who couldn't afford any more. "Thirty dollars going once, going twice – sold to the girl in the overalls. Uh, alright, well that concludes the Ducks Auction. Thank you so much to everyone for participating!" Connie walked off the platform and over to Luis, happy to see that all of the Ducks would have dates. She had a good feeling about the dance and she normally hated every school dance. This one could be different, especially because she was going with someone that she considered a friend. And she could ignore the knawing feeling she got in her stomach when Guy and Alexa kissed for one night.
Portman was officially allowed back in the school that same day. He really was feeling tons better, better than he'd felt in a long time, really. It felt like the past couple of years had been spent in a dreary fog, and he was now just waking up for the first time. That wasn't really a bad thing – nothing all that memorable had happened in those years. Sophomore and Junior year had been pretty uneventful compared to the years before it, with the only highlights being the parties and the blowjobs in the bathroom. And the cocaine, obviously.
But the coke had been an end to the boredom and it had scratched the itch for adventure in him. Plus, it wasn't like anyone was going to notice. He had the Reeds, but it wasn't something that they'd pick up on, especially because Portman normally acted like he was high on something even when he wasn't. He had his job at the Dave and Buster's in the mall that paid for his stash and kept the school from getting suspicious when he wasn't in his dorm on a school night. It was all taken care – it was all handled! But he just had to go and fuck everything up with that stupid overdose.
Since rehab, Portman had realized that that overdose was the best thing that could've happened. He survived and as pussy as it was, he'd talked through a bunch of shit that he hadn't realized he'd been bottling up. And Julie had been there to see him nearly every day. Julie, who he'd never gotten to even look at him before. She'd been happy to be there – they'd joked around, gossiped and laughed. He'd spent so much of high school being afraid to let his feelings for her known, and now, all he wanted to do was shout those feelings from rooftops. Despite that, Portman couldn't imagine that Julie felt the same way about him. She was just pitying him, just being nice because he'd been in the hospital. ("She wouldn't be here if she didn't give a shit about you," Fulton had said when he'd brought it up.)
There were times that made Portman think Fulton was right. Like when he told her she looked pretty this one time and her cheeks had turned scarlet. Or the other day when she'd pulled him in for a really tight hug and thanked him for being so kind to Adam. She had a look in her eyes that Portman hadn't seen before and it made him feel hopeful.
"Julie's been really great," he told Orion, who'd told him to come straight to his office when he'd phoned that morning. "Fulton and his mom, too. It's pretty crazy how supportive everyone's been after what an ass I was,"
"It's like you kids always say: Ducks fly together," Orion smiled and then added, "Don't tell Charlie I said that, alright?"
Portman laughed. "So what's going on, Coach? Did Dean Buckley want you to give me all my missed homework assignments or what?"
The smile disappeared from Orion's face. He cleared his throat awkwardly and folded his hands on top of his desk. Portman wasn't the smartest guy in the world, but he'd seen this expression many times before. It meant he was going to get bad news. "It's just . . . I . . . I just . . . I . . ." he sighed. "I did everything I could, Dean. I want you to know that and I want you to know that I'm on your side. I'll always be on your side, alright?"
Portman took a deep breath and fidgeted in his seat, but nodded regardless.
"It seems that the school board . . . the school board . . . think that you may be a risk to the other students. And I know that you're clean now and I know you don't plan on relapsing, but . . . they they still feel that bringing drugs to school isn't something that can be forgiven so easily. So, I'm sorry, but you're suspended until further notice,"
All of the excitement and positivity in Portman's chest fell into his stomach. "What? But I've already been out of school for a month! Isn't that enough?"
"They said that that time doesn't count because it was your choosing,"
"It wasn't my choosing! What do they think rehab is the same as just taking a fucking vacation?"
"Watch your mouth," said Orion, holding up a hand. "I know you're mad and you have every right to be, but there's nothing I can do."
Portman wanted to explode. He wanted to take the chair he was sitting in and throw it against the wall. He wanted to destroy every piece of junk in that god damn school. Eden Hall made such a giant fucking deal about helping people and including everyone and they were just going to give up on him because of one mistake? Didn't they realize that he hadn't hurt anyone? Didn't they get that he couldn't have stopped? Did they listen to any of the bullshit about addiction that the school counselors were always going on about?
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
"Don't lose it, Dean," said Orion. "You've made so much progress. Don't ruin it over the prejudice of a few people,"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because then you'll prove them right,"
Portman couldn't even think about the sincerity behind Orion's words. He was too upset. He felt let down and he got the feeling that he got whenever he needed some coke. His doctors at rehab had said that once the withdrawal ended, he'd be good for a little while and then the urges would start up again when something triggered him. At the time, he'd thought it would be easy. He'd foolishly thought that he'd be strong enough to shake it off.
How wrong he'd been. He shook his head and stood up, marching out of the room. Orion called after him, but Portman ignored him.
All he needed was some relief. He couldn't stop scratching at his arms, trying to calm the anxiety creeping up on him.
As if a sign from the God he didn't believe in, Portman ran right into Fulton.
"Hey, man. I was just coming to see if you were done with your meeting –"
"Uh, yeah, I gotta go, man –"
Fulton knew him far too well. Normally, it was endearing and made Portman feel wanted. Now, it was irritating and he needed to get as far away from his friend as possible. Fulton took him by the arms and held him in place. "What's going on? You look . . . freaked out,"
"I'm fine. I just have somewhere to be, can you just leave me alone?"
"No, not after everything. Just chill for a second,"
Portman was shaking and he felt like he had when he'd first arrived at rehab. He thought that he was going to cry and he didn't want Fulton to see him cry. He wanted Fulton to still think that things were going great. He didn't want to let him down again.
Still, he paused.
Fulton rubbed his fingers against his forearms. "Chill. Chill, alright? Let's just . . . let's just sit down,"
Against his better judgment, Portman nodded and let Fulton lead him to a bench towards the end of the hallway. They sat down together and Fulton moved his hand to Portman's shoulder. "You're supposed to talk things out, remember? Talking helps. You can't keep things bottled up. That leads to relapsing,"
Portman tapped his foot rapidly.
"You don't want to relapse . . . right?"
"I just need to do it once and I'll be good," said Portman.
"No, you don't. It won't just be one time," Fulton explained, his voice soft. "You can't . . . you can't just do it once. You can do other stuff instead. Why don't we go get some ice cream?"
"Because I don't fucking want ice cream. It doesn't fucking help,"
"What's going on? Everything was fine this morning,"
"Yeah, and now everything's fucked."
Fulton sighed and took his hand off of Portman, slouching into the bench. Portman wanted to get out of there and feed his hunger, but he also didn't want to disappoint Fulton. Fulton had been there for him no matter what and Portman hadn't paid him back for any of it. He'd promised him that he would be a better friend and that's what he needed to do.
"I'm suspended," he whispered. "I don't know for how long, but I'm suspended."
"But you've been out of school for a month,"
"That's what I fucking said."
"Who decided this?" asked Fulton.
"The fucking school board,"
"Oh, well, of course. They've never liked us," said Fulton. "They've always thought they were better than us because they're rich and we're poor. All we are to them is white trash. They've tried to get rid of us since day one,"
"That doesn't make it fucking hurt any less,"
"No, it doesn't. And I'm sorry this is happening. I'm really fucking sorry,"
Portman nodded, his hands still shaking.
"It's bullshit, man. But please – please don't lose it, okay? Things just started getting better. If you start going down this path again, it'll get worse,"
"It could get better," Portman whispered.
Fulton shook his head. "No, no, no, it won't. Your body can't take it and what if – what if you don't survive this time? You told me you didn't want to die,"
"I don't."
"Then don't do it again. Please . . . please. I don't know how to talk you out of it, so I'm just gonna ask you not to. We can go see your therapist. We can make a fucking list of reasons not to do it. We can do anything you want, just not the fucking drugs. I know its bullshit that they're doing this and I know it isn't fair, but you've dealt with much worse. You'll get through this, okay?"
Portman shrugged.
"Look at me," said Fulton. He repeated himself when Portman didn't oblige. "Look at me,"
Portman turned towards him.
"We'll get through this together. We're the Bash Brothers – you can't have one without the other,"
Suddenly his hands didn't feel as shake-y anymore. That anxious feeling was replaced with something different, a sort of calmness that was new to Portman. Maybe Fulton was right. Maybe he should just take his advice – it wasn't like Fulton had ever led him down the wrong path before. He closed his eyes, feeling like a fucking pussy and then quickly reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to think that way anymore.
"You want to go get ice cream?"
Fulton smiled. "Of course,"
Anytime Adam wasn't in class or on the ice, Charlie was kissing him. He'd pull him into classrooms or into a closet and just attack him with his mouth. It wasn't like Adam was complaining – he'd been dreaming about this for years; it was just that he was confused. Charlie was straight and he had a girlfriend (even though he insisted that Linda wasn't his girlfriend and they were just seeing each other) who he held hands with in the hallway and ate lunch with. He had everything, so why was he all over Adam? Had the hand job he'd given him that night at the skate shop really been that great? Was that the reason for all of this? Adam had always known that Charlie liked sex. Hell, everyone knew it. Maybe he just didn't like being tied down to one person at a time and was fooling around with Adam for just that reason. Still, that begged the question – why Adam?
Adam convinced himself not to overthink it. He should just be happy that this was real life and not a fantasy. Besides, Charlie didn't treat him like just a side piece. They'd only been hooking up for about eight days, and in that time, Charlie had showered him in affection and compliments. Plus, there was the fact that he'd stayed over twice in the past week and spooned Adam while they slept.
Julie didn't think it was a good idea.
They were shopping for clothes for the dance (Julie was shopping and Adam was holding her bags), while Julie went on and on about how Connie needed to stop using sex to ignore her feelings for Luis. Adam knew her well enough to know that she was also talking about him and Charlie.
"Do you want me to just stop seeing him?" Adam asked mid-conversation.
Julie turned to him, feigning surprise. "Huh?"
"I know you don't approve of me and Charlie,"
She looked through dresses and refused to make eye contact with him. "I have no idea what you're talking about,"
"Really? Because when I told you he stayed over last night, you said 'cool' and changed the subject,"
"What do you want me to say, Adam? He has a girlfriend."
"She's not his girlfriend . . ." Adam muttered.
"Stop it, you know she is. She's the one he hangs out with in public. You're the one he hangs out with in private. You're okay with that?"
Adam shrugged. "I mean, it's not my favorite thing. But I still get to have those private moments with him. That's enough for me,"
Julie said nothing, her eyes widening as she attempted to hold in an obvious passive aggressive sigh. She sifted through a pile of sweaters, checking the size of one. "Just say what you want to say," said Adam. "I won't get mad. I promise,"
"You sure about that?" asked Julie, unconvinced.
He nodded.
She let out the sigh that she'd been holding in. "You've been in love with Charlie for like, ever. You can't tell me that it doesn't bother you that he's seeing Linda and won't put a label on what he's doing with you,"
"One, it hasn't even been a week yet. And two, he hasn't put a label on Linda either,"
"But he's going to the dance with her,"
"And I'm going with you."
"You know that's not the same thing,"
Adam was happy, why couldn't Julie just accept that? Why did she have to make this harder than it needed to be? Julie saw the look of annoyance on his face and took his hand in hers. "I just don't want you to get hurt, babe,"
"I know," he muttered. "But I'm not going to. I get that Charlie doesn't want to be serious with me,"
"But don't you want to be serious with him?"
Adam bit his lip and accepted the dress that Julie handed to him. "Obviously. But this is better than nothing,"
That was the honest answer, or at least the most honest answer that Adam could muster. Those intimate moments with Charlie were everything and they made him feel like all of his suffering and self-hatred over the years was worth it. Still, he wanted to be the person that Charlie showed off in the hallways. Did that make him selfish? Relationships weren't just about PDA. They were about communication too . . . although Charlie and Adam didn't communicate much. The past six days had consisted of them kissing for hours (among other things) and then Charlie would say goodbye and move on with his day. Even the times that Charlie had stayed over, there hadn't been any talking. Adam knew that he shouldn't expect so much in such a short amount of time but it wasn't as if he and Charlie had just met. They'd known each other for years now. He should be the one that Charlie came to talk to – but he had talked to him about his stepfather. And even Linda didn't know about that. That had to be proof that Charlie saw him as more than just a hook up, right?
He wasn't about to tell Julie that, though. Charlie had trusted him.
He could just let Julie think whatever she wanted about the situation. She didn't mean any harm by being worried, after all. Julie just wanted to protect him and Adam appreciated how much she looked out for him. Sometimes it felt like she was the only one doing so. Even when Adam had told her about the NFL draft guy coming to see him, Julie's first question had been, "Are you happy?" No one else had even asked him how he felt about it; they'd just showered him in congrats and told him how great the whole thing was.
Adam suddenly felt overcome with gratitude. He put his arm around Julie and brought her head to his lips.
"What was that for?" she questioned.
"For being worried about me,"
She smiled. "I just want you to be with someone who's good enough for you,"
"You're the only person who's good enough for me," he admitted.
"It's too bad I have a vagina, huh?"
