Hard to Get (12 page)

Around the corner of the building, Adam was perched on an eight-foot wooden ladder, methodically spreading sky blue paint back and forth with a wide brush. Off to one side, a canvas tarp was spread with a huge assortment of paint cans, brushes of different sizes, scrapers, rollers, and a big sheet of paper. The whole side of the building had been scrubbed and freshly painted white, the bright paint made even brighter by the old, soft red brick surrounding it.

“Hi,” I said, dropping my bag at my feet.
Adam glanced over his shoulder and flashed a brief smile.

“Hi,” he replied, and then turned back around. The frog tunic was mercifully gone today, replaced by a paint-splattered white T-shirt. The silence stretched on. Adam continued painting, while I continued feeling extra-specially awkward. Finally, I hitched my bag back over my shoulder. This was stupid. He obviously didn't want me here, just like I thought. I turned to go, just as Adam set his brush down on the top of the ladder and climbed down.

“Sorry about that,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. “This stuff dries incredibly fast, so I had to finish that section.” He bent down to a big tray of the blue paint and stirred it with a flat stick. The edge of his T-shirt pulled up a little, showing a smooth, tanned band of skin above the waist of his jeans.

He straightened up and pointed to a battered roller leaning against the wall. “You can start filling in that first piece over there.” He indicated a large section of the wall marked with tape. “It's the dark red paint in that tray.” Without waiting for a reply, he climbed to the top of his ladder and resumed painting.

Well, okay. That was a little abrupt. I mean, I didn't need hugs and flowers, but a little “please” never hurt anybody. But whatever. I could handle it. I dropped my bag on the ground again and grabbed the roller.

Back and forth. I watched the deep red slowly consuming the gleaming white base coat. The roller made a soft zipping sound as I pushed it methodically.
Ziiip. Ziiip.
The shouts of some kids playing basketball in the lot across the street floated over to us. The only other sound was the creaking of the rickety wooden ladder under Adam's weight.
Ziiip.
It was kind of hypnotic in a way.
Ziiip.
Then, from the front of the building, I heard the squeak of a door and then the crunch of footsteps on the gravel. I looked up. Sarah was coming toward us. She was wearing a white apron tied over jeans and her hair was twisted in two braids that bounced on her shoulders when she walked.

“Hi, guys.” She stopped at the base of Adam's ladder. “How's it going, Val?”

“Hi. Good. I just got here.” I gestured to my roller. “Adam's put me to work already.”

“Finally, someone to order around!” Adam called down at us. “Such a relief.”

Sarah laughed. “I know, you've been waiting for this day for so long, haven't you?” She looked at me. “Have a good time, Val. Don't let this guy get too bossy, okay?” She waved at us as she disappeared around the corner of the building again.

Silence descended. Adam's eyes were fixed on the wall as he carefully outlined his section in thin blue lines. A mourning dove cooed at us from a nearby mulberry branch. I could hear my stomach digesting the bagel and cream cheese I'd eaten after school. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. “So how did you get started working here?” I asked. My voice rang in the quiet. I winced. Luckily, Adam didn't seem to notice.

“Sarah's a friend of my older sister,” he said. “She was always around our house when we were growing up. So she was looking for someone to work the counter last year, and I need some extra cash.” He shrugged and dipped his brush into the small can of blue balanced on the top of the ladder. “It worked out really well.”

“Oh, you've known her for a long time?”
It wasn't my business, really, but the words came out before I could stop them.

Adam finished the blue lines and climbed down from the ladder. “I guess.” He picked up a handful of dirty brushes that were lying on the tarp and dunked them in a waiting bucket of water, swishing them back and forth.

“So she's in college?”
Val, stop. You're sounding obsessive
. I couldn't help it. Anyway, I was just asking friendly questions.

“She's part-time, but her fiancé's graduating soon, so she's going to start going full-time.” He dumped the bucket of now cloudy blue water onto the grass and laid the clean brushes out in a neat row to dry in the sun.

I leaned my roller against the wall and took a deep breath. “She's getting married?” I bent and brushed some gravel dust off the tops of my feet so I wouldn't have to look at him.

Adam looked up, his brows knit a little. “Yeah. I'm actually going to be in her wedding in July. You sound surprised.”

“Oh! Um, well, to be totally honest, I thought that …” I could feel my cheeks growing hot.

“That what?” Adam looked puzzled.
“Wait, you thought that she and I … ?” He started laughing.

My face felt like it was going to burst into flame. “Well, yeah.” I seized the roller again and began zipping it back and forth vigorously. Little droplets of red paint flew from the end.

“Hey, watch it there,” Adam said. He grabbed a wet rag out of another water bucket and wiped at the red splatters. “Wow, that's hilarious. No, Sarah's like another sister.” He dropped the rag into the bucket. “And dating family members really isn't my thing.”

I forced a short laugh, trying to readjust my brain at the same time. Good thing Becca wasn't here for this conversation. She'd never have pushed me to work with Adam if she'd known he wasn't attached.

“So how about you?” Adam asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”

I glanced at him sharply but he was drying his hands on an old towel. His voice sounded completely casual.

“Not really,” I said. I wasn't quite ready to tell him about Dave—and the GNBP was most definitely off-limits. “Hey, you know . . .” I cast around for something to distract him. “It's—it's
kind of hard painting this thing without knowing what it's going to look like. What is it, like a ship or something?”

Adam laughed. “Not exactly.” He motioned me over to a big piece of paper unrolled in a corner. A few rocks weighed down the edges. “This is a sketch of what we'll be painting,” he said, pointing with his pencil. I peered over his shoulder and my eyes widened.

In the center of the paper spread a gorgeous explosion of yellow, orange, and red petals, opening on the page like a chrysanthemum on acid. At first glance, it did look like a flower, but when I studied it more closely, I saw that the petals also looked like flames. At the center of the flame-flower, blue and black feathers waved as if trapped.

“Wow, did you draw that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Adam said, staring down at the drawing. His cheeks were pink.

“It's really good,” I told him. “It's going to look incredible on the wall.”

He blinked. “Thanks,” he said slowly. A little grin hovered around his mouth. “I'm glad you appreciate it.” The grin widened.

I poked his arm. “Are you surprised or something? I'm not a
total
ditz, despite what
you might think. I actually do like good art.”

Adam leaned back on his hands and grinned at me. “No, I'm not surprised. I could tell the minute I met you that you were a girl with excellent taste. After all, you liked the drawing I did of you, right?”

“Of course.”

“See? Excellent taste.” He studied me for a moment, then got up, dusting the grass off the rear of his jeans. “Be right back. I just have to grab something inside.”

“Okay,” I said. I sat back on the grass and drew my knees up. I heard his footsteps crunching away and the distant creak of the coffeehouse door. Then silence. The sun was baking the top of my head. The basketball-playing kids had evidently gone inside and the mourning dove was taking a break. I stared idly across the street at a row of battered parked cars, the sun glinting off their windshields. Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. Kelly. I flipped the phone open.

“Hi,” I said. “What's up?”

“Hi!” Kelly and Becca chirped at the same time. “It's us.”

“Why are you guys calling?” I said.

“Just wanted to see how the painting's
going,” Kelly bubbled. “It's kind of warm out. Has he taken his shirt off yet?”

“
No
, he has not taken his shirt off.” I glanced at the coffeehouse door.

“Just ignore her, Val!” Becca said in the background. “Just focus on painting, okay?”

“Well, that's what I'm
trying
to do,” I told them.

“Where is he now?” Kelly asked.

“He's inside getting something, okay, nosy? Butt out, will you, guys? I don't need you to check up on me.”

“Diamonds, Val, diamonds!” Becca reminded me.

I could hear the sound of someone grabbing at the phone. “Purple dress, Val!” Kelly shouted.

The coffeehouse door creaked again. Adam crunched up next to me. “I made us some drinks,” he said, slightly out of breath.

“Guys, I have to go,” I hissed and hung up on them. I looked up. He was holding two coffees in big ceramic mugs. A mound of fluffy whipped cream crowned each of them, and caramel drizzled down the sides. Dark chocolate shavings were sprinkled on top, and a wafer was perched on the side.

I blinked. My mouth started watering. “Wow. Thanks.”

He managed to sit down without spilling any of the coffee and offered me one of the mugs. I stretched out my hand to accept and then stopped. His whole face had a pink sheen and his gaze hovered somewhere near the ground between us. A little alarm bell started clanging inside my head. Unattached guy. Sweet little gift. Shy smile.
GNBP! GNBP!
an imaginary loudspeaker blared. Adam looked up, right into my eyes. That was it.

I took a deep breath. “Um, listen, Adam.”

“Yeah?”

“Um, this is kind of awkward to say.” I looked down at the ground and picked up a little pebble.

“Uh-oh.” He set the coffees down on the ground. “This doesn't sound good.”

I nodded. “Well, it's not bad or anything. It's just that, you know, I'm really not looking to go out with anyone right now. Like at all.” I made myself look right at him, which was hard when his face was so crestfallen.

“Oh. That's cool.” He picked up a stick and started tracing a pattern in the dirt, not meeting my eyes. The coffees sat like homeless little orphans at his side.

“It's not you,” I said. “I'm just taking a break, that's all. I think we should just be friends, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” He got to his feet, still not looking at me, and dusted off the rear of his jeans. He picked up the coffees and handed me one. “Well, anyway, this one's yours.”

I stood up also, balancing the coffee. It smelled great, but was accepting it a GNBP violation now that we had agreed to be friends? Gray area, I decided. Better to err on the side of caution. I shoved the mug back at him, a little harder than I intended. The whipped cream slopped over the side and a wave of coffee baptized the front of his T-shirt. “Actually, no thanks,” I said. “I just remembered that I'm, um, allergic to coffee. It makes me break out in hives.” I continued holding out the cup.

Adam looked confused. “But didn't you have a latte when you came in that first time?” he asked.

I cringed. “Er, yeah, I did …” My voice trailed off. Then I had a flash of brilliance. “Actually that was when I realized I was allergic.”

Adam raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I went home that night and was
completely covered in hives. I couldn't even see my eyes,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “They were, like, all puffed up. It was gross.”

“Oh,” he said. “But wouldn't—”

This was getting difficult. Better retreat. As casually as I could, I plucked my bag from the ground and hoisted it over my shoulder. “You know, I just remembered I have to do some chores for my mom.”

“Oh, okay …” Adam still held the sloppy coffee cup cradled in his hands while the other, perfect coffee steamed on the grass next to him.

“See you later.” I forced myself to walk slowly to my car, knowing he was watching me the whole way. I exhaled only when I had slid behind the baking hot steering wheel. I threw the car into drive and craned over my shoulder to maneuver it out of the narrow parking space.
Good work, Val. Potentially disastrous GNBP-wrecking situation nicely diffused.
No feelings were hurt, boundaries were firmly established. I shook off the memory of Adam's downcast face. The GNBP's future had never looked brighter.

I'd been hoping for a massive thunderstorm to give me an excuse to stay away from the coffeehouse and any more potential conflict with the GNBP, but the next day was sunny and hot, as if summer had decided to arrive two months early. What was I afraid of, anyway? I asked myself, as I drove over to Sternwell's. A random arty guy who occasionally wears skinny jeans? Definitely not. I'd dealt with way more difficult situations than this. It was simple: no more little chatty sessions with coffee on the grass. Just paint the mural and get the project over with as fast as possible.