Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1) (9 page)

There was only one other thing in his life that controlled the numbers, but his dad disapproved.

Mari would probably be on Dad’s list of okay things for Adam to be involved with even though she was sweet like sugar.

“You’re welcome, Adam. I’m more than happy to help you by holding your hand. And thanks for the compliment about how I look today.” Mari smiled. “I hope my hand’s not too sweaty. It’s hot out this morning.”

“It’s perfect and warm—like you.” He smiled bigger. This time his cheeks were so tight, it was hard to keep his eyes fully open to see her as much as possible. His goal was to see as much of her as he could today. Without the soreness, if possible. The sight of her was worth it though, if his body decided it needed to fight against him.

Maybe she could give him a ride home after school rather than Sam. Then he could get even more viewing time of Mari.

Soon he hoped to have his own car back and drive her around himself. If she could only see him as a responsible adult, things would be different.

Adam cleared his throat. His whole chest was moist, and he was shaking inside. How did everyday people have conversations? How did they keep from being awestruck and losing all train of thought around her especially?

“The weather seems decent today, doesn’t it?” he began, hoping this was an ordinary way to start one. She said it was hot, but hot could be pleasant.

“The weather here sucks Schweddy Balls, or at least for half the year, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as I graduate in nine months, I’m outta here.” She smiled like a memory took her away someplace better.

“Where do you want to go?”
And can I come with you?

“Probably L.A. or a suburb nearby. I like the water. I love swimming in the ocean. I’ve only done it a few times, gone swimming in the river once when I visited my dad and he took me fishing. I loved it. I want to be somewhere that isn’t blazing sunshine every damned day. I need some rain once in a while. It’s unnatural how we have to artificially water everything here. Blue’s my favorite color—the color of water. But it annoys the shit out of me that we waste so much of it to make plants that aren’t native grow here. It’s forced and fake.” She huffed.

His eyes twitched.
Blue
was her favorite? Blue was on him—in his eyes. Had she noticed? “I have to mow the lawn at our house, and the green in our yard isn’t fake. We don’t use Astroturf. Maybe you could come sit on the lawn with me when you need some real green and some real blue?” His voice shook, but he hoped she didn’t notice.

She smiled and turned her head. “How is it watered? With sprinklers?”

“With irrigation. It smells sometimes, and there are fish I like to try to catch in that water when Dad’s not looking. We even had ducks in our yard once in that water.” He sat a little taller.

“Irrigation is better for plants because it has trace minerals in it.”

He smiled. She wasn’t mocking him. They were honestly enjoying speaking to each other, and it didn’t involve any of his oddities. “It rains here—”

Right as he was about to impress her with his local knowledge of how much rain Phoenix got, they were interrupted.

“Oh, God, you’re talking to chubster here about the weather? Are you serious? And I thought she couldn’t get any more pathetic than eating a salad every day as if that was going to magically transform her into somebody attractive,” a very thin, dark-haired girl said with a nasally voice.

“We are discussing things we both enjoy. And weather and plants happen to be on our list. And why would you call her chubster?” Adam asked.

Mari flinched on the final word of his sentence.

The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes.

“Adam, this is Tara. She’s Kendra’s cousin.” Mari leaned away from the girl a little bit.

Now Adam flinched. Kendra? Oh yuck.
She
was
not
fun, even if he talked to her about weather and grass.

“You, my friend,” Tara said to Adam directly, “are invited this Friday to join Kendra and me after school for some pizza and beer before the football game. You’re also going to discuss the Homecoming Dance next week. We both want you to take us, so you’ll have to choose.” Tara batted her lashes, and her sparkling blue eyes reminded him of blueberries.

“Your eyes look like fruit, and when I squish fruit, the insides are never nice. Plus, you’re too childish to drink alcohol.” He scooted closer to Mari. Tara’s look changed from friendly to scary in a flash. This was more than the normal looks girls gave him. It looked like she wanted to hurt him—take away anything that was commonplace about him.

“Sorry, Tara, but he’s lactose intolerant and thinks beer tastes like piss. He’s coming with me to get some Mediterranean food after school Friday. His sister and brother are joining us,” Mari said, her eyes harder.

Adam huddled up against Mari, and though his breathing was easier, he couldn’t fully relax with that Tara person looming over him like that.

“I’m sorry if I stepped on some toes, fruit-of-the-loon boy. Can I shake hands to apologize?” Tara smiled, but her eyes remained untouched. They still spoke of danger, mist and smoke. Probably rotten fruit, too. Is that why she called him fruit-of-the-loon? Was that code for saying she was squished fruit left out in the sun, but only on the inside? She must be a complicated mess.

“You don’t have to touch anybody you don’t want to,” Mari whispered in his ear.

But she was wrong. He
needed
to do this—too prove to Mari he was like everybody else. That a handshake would be fine and not unman him.

“That’s a good way to apologize. Better than a hug,” he said, convincing himself this was the way to handle it. A handshake would give him some space between himself and the rotting-fruit girl.

He extended his hand, and not only did Tara grab it too fast, but she pulled it up to her mouth and kissed the back of it.

Ahhhh! Bad fruit germs!

A shiver overtook him when her tongue touched his skin and numbers exploded like a supernova in his brain.

He mouthed the thirteens times tables but kept quiet. His eyes scrunched shut, and his shoulders were up around his ears.

When he opened his eyes, Tara wore a nasty smirk as she stared right at Mari.

She dropped his hand as if an unspoken challenge was answered and then pranced away after another boy.

A boy with dark hair, dark eyes, a crooked, Greek-looking nose and a bulky build welcomed her into the empty chair beside him.

“There’s something wrong with her. She licked me,” Adam whispered into Mari’s ear before settling back down in his chair. “And I don’t taste like fresh fruit.” Why didn’t the rotting-fruit girl know that? Didn’t her parents teach her that?

“She’s a disgusting slut. Ignore her.” Mari’s head fell forward, and her hair covered part of her profile.

“Maybe she was hungry and thinking about lunch. The cafeteria confuses me sometimes when I think about what I want to eat.”

Mari shrugged, and her lips pressed together as her head dropped, then her hair really covered her face.

This was worse than not knowing what to talk about earlier. Now he couldn’t see her, and his goal might not be met today.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear. Her cheek was wet, but Mari promptly dried it with her fingers.

“I’m really proud of you for handling that so well. She makes me want to murder furniture,” she admitted.

“Sam says you smoke. I could show you how to light Tara’s table on fire using your lighter without her noticing, along with any of her peers sitting with her,” he offered, his teeth showing through his smile. Fruit didn’t burn well, but for rotting-fruit girl, he’d make an exception.

Mari erupted in a fit of giggles after that point, but something was off. Her happiness seemed manufactured, like it was there to cover something else up.

“I’m sure you could, but let’s just say it’s already burning hot today, and I don’t want to add to the heat.” Mari’s words and actions failed to fit together because at that point, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a light sweater.

It was then he noticed she had been wearing a tank top, and her lovely arms were now covered up, along with some of her cleavage. Oh, why hadn’t he looked at her breasts more closely when he got the chance? They were so nice and happy around him.

Tomorrow that was going to be the first place he looked at her before he even said hello in case she decided to put on a trench coat for possible inclement weather.

Well, he couldn’t fault her for being prepared. Tomorrow he’d also be prepared in case a micro-burst happened to come their way. He’d be her hero when he could protect her from the elements. All girls wanted to make sure their hair was protected from rain, right?

Yes, yes, he’d have a windbreaker for both of them, an oversized umbrella and a towel to dry off any splash-back from aggressive slanting sheets of rain.

He pulled out a piece of paper, his pencil, and wrote it all down so he’d have a note for himself. This he would remember—it was important.

Almost as important as her hand tucked up against his side, which in that very moment was lightly scratching his ribs.

He purred. He stretched and hummed. He smiled and hoped he would someday make her as warm as she made him, and then a sweater would be obsolete.

Zach said pussy was good. But in this moment, all Adam could think about was Mari’s breasts and how much softer that skin might be compared to her hands.

The soreness agreed. They needed to discover this for themselves, and soon . . .

Chapter 5

Adam stood in the bathroom stall, cupping his hands over his chest, wishing he was cupping someone else’s.

“She’s so pretty and round and soft,” he told himself, breathing hard, sorer than ever!

Mari touched his hand a lot today. She caressed it with her thumb, tickled his palms, massaged the back of his hands and even squeezed his wrists. All of it was amazing and made him edge closer to her, while his soreness reached epic heights. Especially when she’d smile at him and look him in the eye while she did those things to him. That made his appendages twitch.
All
of them.

He sighed, stepped out of the bathroom stall and straightened his jeans, straining at the crotch.

So far the day was successful. He smiled at himself.

He hardly saw any numbers. After the run-in with Tara, he decided maybe it was best to have Mari speak to anybody that approached them first.

He washed his hand that had been licked by that girl. He’d been doing it every chance he got. What if Mari changed her mind and realized she was afraid of germs and wouldn’t let him hold her hand anymore today with that infected one? It bothered him to know his choices were limited now.

It didn’t seem to stop him before, but that might’ve just been because he was in class and she didn’t want him to flip out. After school might be different.

He washed it one more time, in case that helped.

He’d disinfect it properly when he got home.

PE was good today. Nobody talked to him, and the coach let him choose if he played basketball or not.

Yesterday basketball went well. He scored several points and stole the ball enough times to help his team win. It was good for both Sam and Mari to witness it after his breakdown at the beginning of the class period, though neither of them congratulated him on a well-played game. Only the coach did.

It seemed strange Mari didn’t mention it. She was the only one around him who praised him when he did things well. His family only paid any attention to the things he did wrong, or pointed out anything they thought was related to his deficiencies.

California sounded like a terrific place to escape to after he got his diploma. They’d see—he could make it on his own.

He wandered out into the hallway, and Sam found him after the final bell rang. She was out of breath.

“Hey . . . I’m gonna call Dad to send us a cab so we don’t have to wait for Zach,” she said.

“That’s okay. I have plans. You can find a ride home for yourself with anybody but Mari. She’s off limits for you.” He smiled a cheesy, kid grin.

She ruffled his hair. “You are too cute.” She chuckled and then left.

He sighed. Wow. That was easier than he thought.

First time she didn’t lecture and barrage him with questions about what his plans could possibly be, who was going to give him the physical contact he needed, and how he’d survive without going into a number trance.

She must’ve had a good dream last night. Those were his favorite Samara days.

Mari. She’s probably leaving. Go find her!

His brain dumped all numbers hovering around, and his legs pumped hard as he ran through the school corridor. Moments later, he burst out into the parking lot. Finally his brain was alerting him of useful things to do like finding his friend before it was too late.

But he was ignorant of what her car looked like. Oh no! What if she was giving another friend a ride home? How would he cope if they shoved him in the backseat? Would she be able to drive one-handed while reaching back to hold his hand? Would she be ashamed to do such a thing in front of others?