Читать книгу Don't Let Me Go - J.H. Trumble - Страница 14

Chapter 9

It was after midnight when Adam Skyped. I’d fallen asleep with my head on my arm. I wiped the drool on my shirt and clicked the Answer with Video button. Adam’s face appeared on the screen. He looked tired and disheveled. It had been less than twenty-four hours, but already I missed him so much it physically hurt. I grimaced a smile. “Hi.”

He smiled back, then raised his eyes to his webcam so he was looking directly at me through the camera.

It sounded like a party in the background. I lowered the volume, then changed my mind and raised it again.

“I’m sorry it’s so late,” Adam said.

I checked the time in the lower corner of my screen: twelve thirty. That meant it was one thirty in New York. I’d been sitting at my desk since seven—five and a half hours. I shifted around to get the blood flowing.

As if answering my unspoken question, he went on: “We dropped my things at the apartment after the cast meeting, then dinner, then back to the director’s apartment for drinks. It’s been crazy.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. My phone died.”

“Couldn’t you have borrowed one?”

He bit his lip and that crease formed between his brows again. Before he could respond, a shirtless guy slipped an arm around Adam’s shoulder and leaned close to the screen. “Is this your boyfriend? Hi, boyfriend.” He waggled his fingers at me, then picked up a drink I hadn’t noticed on the desk next to Adam and took a sip. “Come on, baby,” he said to Adam and tugged at his arm.

On the screen, I watched Adam laugh and push shirtless guy away.

My skin prickled.

Adam turned back to the screen and said, “Ignore him,” still smiling.

I was not smiling. “Who’s that?”

“That was Justin.” He rolled his eyes.

“That was Justin? Roommate Justin? I’ll-pick-you-up-at-the-airport Justin?” I guffawed and looked off into a corner of my room. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nate.” He glanced around, then told me to hold on a minute. The image on the computer jarred and blurred, and I could tell he was moving the laptop somewhere else. When his face appeared on the screen again, he told me he’d moved to the bathroom, then turned the screen around so the camera could catch the fixtures.

“It’s the only place I could find,” he said, a little apologetically. “This apartment is small. Small small. Everything in here is like miniature. You should see the kitchen. It’s half the size of my closet back home. The refrigerator looks like one of Mea’s toys. And my side of the closet—”

“You’re sharing a closet too?” Just the thought of his things brushing up against someone else’s felt all kinds of wrong.

“A closet, a room, a bathroom, and everything else in this matchbox.” He sighed wearily and looked right at the webcam. “Nate, you know I have three roommates.”

“Looks to me like Justin might want to be more than just a roommate.”

“Whatever. You know I love you.”

“Are you still wearing the green underwear?”

He must have known from the sound of my voice that it wasn’t one of those sexy what-are-you-wearing questions. “What is it with the green underwear?” he said. “Yes, I’m wearing the green underwear. I’ve been wearing them all day. More than eighteen hours. I thought you liked them on me.”

“I do. I just don’t like them on you ... there.”

He huffed. “I’ll burn them if it makes you happy.”

“I don’t want you to burn them.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted you to call me earlier. It’s one thirty in the morning there, Adam. One fucking thirty. I’ve been sitting at this desk for hours. And then you finally Skype and some half-naked guy is hanging all over you. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

He ran his hands through his short hair and sighed again. “I’m sorry. Okay. You’re right. I just got caught up in all the craziness. Will you forgive me? I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back home.”

“How?”

“You’re gonna be like that, are you?” He laughed, just a little. “Well, hmm, I’ll give you one of my lava lamps.”

“Uh-uh. I already stole one anyway.”

“I’ll paint your toenails again.”

“Sexy, but not good enough.”

“I’ll take you parking again at Ridgewood Park.”

Ah, Ridgewood Park. The place where our first fight had ended, and our first makeup session had begun. And Adam was very good at making things up to me.

“Tempting,” I said, “but you know sudden flashlight beams still send me into a panic.”

He laughed again, more like the Adam I remembered, then came up with an idea so graphic and naughty that I actually blushed.