Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1) (16 page)

“You could replace them with me. I’m learning to do that with you and my numbers, and I never want to trade them back. You’re much better than any number ever was,” he said, beaming.

She reached up and cupped his jaw off to one side. “I wish I was as smart as you so I could figure out how to do that.”

“I don’t make you happy?” His eyes dropped.

She firmed her hold on his jaw and lifted his head to encourage him to look her in the eye. He cooperated. “Never think that, because that would be the biggest lie ever. And I never said that. I only said I don’t know how to relax without smoking.”

His eyes lit up. “
I
know! I could massage you whenever you’re tense. You do that for me sometimes during class, and it helps me so much!”

She took a deep breath, and her chest rounded as it slowly expelled the excess air out. “I’ll think about it . . .”

“You will?”

She started walking toward the restaurant. He startled, lunged forward and caught up quickly with those long strides of his.

“You’re gonna do it for me, right? Because I’m really right about this one. I know I am. Cigarettes are unhealthy, and you like to put healthy food in your body. You hate sugar and—”

She turned her head in his direction. “I never said I hate sugar, but it’s necessary for me to avoid it.”

“I’m supposed to do that too, but I guess I have a hard time saying no to it.”

“It may be a vice for you, but I’m addicted to cigarettes. It’s not the same thing.” She squeezed his hand, and when they got to the door, he opened it for her.

“I know what an addiction is,” he said once they were inside.

“And how would you know about that?” Her left eyebrow rose, and she pursed her lips.

“Because I know
you
.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m a walking case of a person addicted to substances and all sorts of junk she doesn’t need to be involved wi—”

“No, no.” He waved his hand. “I mean I’m addicted to
you
. Zach says I am, because I only talk about you, I count down the minutes ‘til I’ll see you again and I’m edgy when you’re gone.”

A tidal wave of putrid guilt engulfed her. She was going to be leaving in the near future for an entire week to be with her dad, and she still hadn’t told Adam about it. Her stomach squeezed, and her neck was stiff.

“Addictions are a bad thing. What can we do to wean you off me?” She pointed to the hostess so he’d understand she had to attend to this for a moment.

“Two please, and we want a window seat with as much natural lighting as possible,” he said, stepping forward.

The hostess looked him up and down and smiled at what she saw.

“And away from the kitchen if at all possible,” Mari added.

The hostess gave Mari a wrinkled brow like she couldn’t possibly be with this guy.

Mari shook her head slightly and pushed her lips together so she could keep from telling off this moron.

Once seated, the waitress was there almost right away, taking their drink orders.

Mari kept quiet to see if he’d order a soda. He asked for a water. Was it because of their conversation a few moments ago? Was he trying to prove he had some self-control, and therefore, she could quit smoking, too?

Seemed like something he’d do.

She flashed a smile at him before ordering herself a water as well with some lemon.

“What’s the lemon for?” he asked her after the waitress was gone.

“For my salad. I use it as dressing.” She tried to push down that sudden lump in her throat by swallowing hard, hoping it would go back into her gut, because, dammit, she was broaching the topic of food. It was coming—she could feel it. He was going to ask question after question and would be relentless until she satisfied his curiosity.

“Are their dressings gross?” His soft blue eyes were melting that lump right out of her.

“No, they’re fine. I’m just . . . Most dressings have sugar in them, and since I don’t want to raise too much of a fuss with my picky eating habits, I figured I could make things easy on them. A lot of people order lemon with their water. I’ll use it on my salad instead.”

The water arrived, and she could see the burning questions in his eyes.

“Do you think you have to be skinny like a model?” he asked, moving his water over a little from where it was set.

It had been obstructing the path for his hand he now had extended out on the table.

She took it gratefully. If she had been him, had been brave enough, she would’ve asked for a hug right then, because vulnerable didn’t quite explain how she felt. More like trapped and skinned alive as wolves circled.

“I don’t care about that, really.” She wet her lips—they were so dry. “I’m foolishly trying to get back to what I once was. I guess I’m thinking if I look like that girl I used to be, then maybe I can start acting like her too and trick others to believe I’m good again.” She tucked her hair behind her ears with her uncommitted hand.

“I don’t like telling you what to do, but I’m gonna this time. More than the smoking, this has to stop.”

Her eyes went wide, and she extended her neck back, then focused her gaze more intently on him. It was a snap impulse, because this wasn’t the Adam she knew.

“Why would you say that?” Her insides were shredded, more so than that skinned-alive-on-the-outside feeling.

“Because you’re beautiful as you are.” She started to protest, but he cut in. “It’s more than that, though.” He leaned forward, his eyes ablaze with power. “I get out of control—you already know this—and when I do, I use all of my body weight. That’s not normal. Dr. Harkham says people will use some restraint automatically—it’s ingrained in them. I don’t. If you get smaller, how will you be able to stop me or cushion the blow if I accidentally ram into you, knock you down or fall on you?”

Her mouth popped open, and her eyes were drying out from the lack of blinking. Where did
this
come from?

“My mom was little like Sam. When I knocked her down, she went flying. Same with Sam. I want better for you. I’ll try to never hurt you, but it’s probably not a promise I can keep, because I can be dangerous at times.” He stroked the outside of her hand with his thumb. “I like you too much to want to see you get hurt badly. Please, for me . . . We need to be together, and you need to be safe.”

“But I’m supposed to keep
you
safe,” she said in the tiniest voice possible.

“I want to share that responsibility and protect you, too. Let’s watch out for each other. That’s what best friends do.” His eyes twinkled like brilliant flashes of light.

Her whole insides dissolved into her seat. “I . . . I don’t know if I can do that. There’s a history of morbid obesity in my family, and I used to weigh over—”

He dug his thumb into her wrist, making her flinch. She looked down, and when he saw it, his mouth opened and he released the pressure. “Sorry, I . . . The numbers were there . . . Shouting so loud I could barely hear you. I was making sure you were really here with me . . . I didn’t realize how hard I was pressing.”

“It’s okay.” She took a drink. Had he heard the part about what impacted her eating decisions? She hoped not. Maybe they could change the subject and move on.

The waiter returned to take their order. She realized they were both so engrossed with their conversation they forgot to look at their menus.

“What’s the special for today?”

The waitress rambled off some fish and lamb dishes.

Adam winced a few times at the mention of both.

In the end, she ordered a big platter of chicken kabobs cooked in various spices, jasmine rice with almonds and seasonings, salads on the side, pita bread and hummus.

This way he could pick what he liked, and she’d eat whatever he was uncomfortable with.

“Please stay the way you are. No more trying to lose weight. Just stay like this—it’s perfect.” He blinked, his eyes scrunched and he wore a giddy smile as he shifted a little in his seat. “It’s really hot too—the way you’re round in places I like to look at.”

She burst into a chuckle. “Zach told you my boobs would shrink if I kept losing weight, didn’t he?”

He nodded and hid his quirky grin.

She grabbed her fork and said, “I may have to stab him in the nuts for that.”

His smile dropped. “
No
! That could hurt him bad! He won’t know I told you, and he won’t tell anybody else, and I won’t mention it ag—”

“Relax. I’m only kidding. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a fork-killer. I leave that to the truly devoted wackos.” She put the utensil down. “Now a spoon . . .
Maybe
. . .” She laughed.

He sighed and uncurled in his chair.

“Your mom’s not fat,” he said out of nowhere.

“Huh?” Her eyes scrunched.

“You said there was morbid obesity in your family. I heard that part.” His eyes shifted down to the table. “I saw your mom—she looked fine to me.” He glanced up and eyed her fork.

She smiled at him. “No, she’s in good shape. It’s other members of my family.”

“Your dad?”

She tensed and answered, “Yeah.” It sucked telling the truth sometimes, but she had to start answering his questions if she wanted him to answer hers.

She changed the subject quickly. “When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?”
Besides devastatingly gorgeous?
Her eyes roamed his body a little. She rarely did that—it was too painful—and only when he wasn’t looking. It was probably a nuisance to him to be ogled all the time and have women hit on him merely for his looks. She never complimented him on his appearance, partly due to her fear he might reciprocate. No—they had so many other points they could dwell on when it came to each other.

But did he have to be so stunning and ooze masculinity without even realizing it? He was a walking turn-on anytime he was near. He had no idea what he did to her. And it was getting harder to ignore now that they were so physically comfortable around each other—constantly touching.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

She coughed. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a piece of a plump donut?”

She laughed hard, rocking the table a little. “Maybe you are. Maybe you’re the sugar I crave and can’t have.” No question—he was exactly that.

Their food came, and she was able to avoid discussing the unguarded look she gave him.

Once through with their meal and adequately stuffed, she paid even though he insisted on doing it. He frowned as they left. It made her smile.

Pouting Adam was even more endearing.

He promised to have so much cash with him next time, she’d have no choice but to let him pay for it.

She assured him she didn’t mind and it wasn’t his job to take care of the bill, but he seemed torn up inside over it.

His manners were probably kicking him in the sack, telling him he was supposed to be manly and provide the funds for this date.

He brooded in the car on the way back to the school.

Their timing was excellent. They took so long at their meal, caught up in their conversation, that by the time they got there, the Varsity game was just starting.

She let go of his hand to pay their entrance fee. This time he didn’t bother to argue, just wore a glum expression instead. There was a nagging feeling she should let him get this one, but what was the point? It wasn’t like they were really dating, and she didn’t want it to feel like they were. They were friends and nothing more, and as his friend, she was happy to take care of expenses.

He wandered a few feet and peered over the half fence. It was a nice view of the football field. Zach was probably out there, starting the game off.

She felt him before she saw him return as she was handed her change. His hand slipped into the one at her side.

“I wish I could play football, but remember how I told you about using too much of my body weight?” he said quietly in her ear.

She turned, and they walked toward the bleachers.

“Yeah . . .”

“Well, I hurt Zach too many times playing it with him. I made him pull all sorts of muscles, even his groin. He was real mad about that one.”

She rubbed his arm of the hand she was holding with her other hand. “I’ll bet he was.”

“Not at me, though. He’s too nice to get mad at me. He was mostly mad it hurt so much.”

They clomped up the metal ramp leading to the bleachers.

Their eyes swept up to find an open spot.

It was fairly crowded, and the only areas she could see available all contained people she wanted to avoid.

Great.

Most of them were people she had to cut off after her last relapse, to keep from becoming a full-fledged addict again.

“There’s my woman,” Rory’s voice rang from over her right shoulder.

Please, no! Her whole body froze, and her heart iced over.