Page 51 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

I shook my head, studying him just as intently as he was me. Then I asked the question that’d burned in my brain for weeks. “How are you single?”

A deep V formed between his brows for several seconds before he tilted his head, sending an unruly wave of dark-brown hair over it. “Am I?”

The front door beeped and then opened, and Delly walked back in.

I really wasn’t sure if I should thank her or kick her. Lightly .

“That man-child drives me insane,” she muttered on the way to her room, looking harried.

I raised my eyebrows at Adair, who just shrugged. “It’s been a long week.”

He was not wrong .

“I think I’m going to nap before my class tonight,” I said, inching toward the hallway behind me.

“You’re sure it’s not safe for you to come over here?” he asked quietly, eyes keen on me.

“Yes,” I replied, taking one more step backward. “I’m sure.”

I knew that it was the truth.

It was not safe.

Not at all.

“How’s tomorrow looking?” he asked, not at all deterred by my flat tone. Or by me .

That was maybe what confused me most.

“Better,” I said. “Has to be.”

He smiled and reached for his crutch, then slowly got to a standing position. “Can I join you?”

My mind blanked as Adair tucked a couple of pillows under his arm. There was a smirk on his face when he turned back to me and added, “To nap. In my own bed.”

Delly came back out of her bedroom, perfect timing as usual, and immediately plucked the pillows from her brother with a scowl, fussing at him as she tucked herself under his free arm.

I backed all the way out of the room, my eyes on him until I rounded the corner and stepped into my bedroom. I closed the door softly and just leaned against it, taking a few moments to catch my breath.

As I changed into comfier clothes, my phone buzzed.

Adair

Open your bathroom door?

I read it twice, then hesitantly stepped toward the door and turned the knob, banging my head against the wood when it didn’t turn.

Without looking, I turned the lock and tried again .

I opened it slowly and met Adair’s eyes through the space.

He was already lying on top of his quilt, phone in hand, foot propped back up.

My phone buzzed again.

Adair

Think we should get you a key code lock for that door too?

My lips twitched at his teasing. Three dots danced on the screen, and I had the feeling Adair was someone who would abandon his message if he saw me typing, so I waited.

Adair

I followed my heart, and it led me to the beach* What’s best for sleeping: silence or music?

I debated writing the question on a note, as per custom, but I wasn’t sure the physics of making it into a little paper airplane and sending it to you would’ve worked in my favor.

Leaning against the open doorway, I glanced up at him, and couldn’t help but smile as I texted him back.

Music.

The light from his phone was reflected in his glasses as he read the message. The bathroom wasn’t so big that we couldn’t speak to each other, but this felt so much more us . And a little easier for my strung-out nerves to handle.

I had the feeling he knew that.

Adair

Do you have a playlist of the songs you’re using in your ballroom class?

I glanced up at him, then back at my phone.

Yes

Adair

Don’t make me beg, Indigo. Because I will.

My knees fucking wobbled. Wobbled. Bracing more of my weight against the doorframe, I copied the link to my playlist with shaky fingers and sent it to him.

Adair

Thank you.

Sweet dreams.

A brief pause, and then one more buzz.

Adair

I’m glad you’re home.

Butterflies didn’t explode in my stomach. It was more like they took off in different directions, along different paths, flying into one another or straight into walls.

I locked my phone and waited a few more seconds, just watching him.

His expression was impossible to see clearly from here, but even the impression of him, of his presence, was overwhelming.

I padded to my bed and slid beneath the covers, letting them settle on me like an embrace.

Then music started from his room, just guitar and drums at first .

And then the words I knew so well.

I turned my face toward Adair’s room, finding his already angled toward mine.

Had he chosen this song? Or just put the playlist on shuffle?

I wanted to ask him, but not at the risk of disrupting anything about this.

His room was dim, the curtains pulled and no other lights on, but I could feel his smile as one of my favorite covers of “Put Your Head on My Shoulder” by Paul Anka continued, filling the space between us.

I only played the original in class, but I kept this one on the playlist for myself, for when I was thinking through choreography. Slipping my arm under my pillow, I sank into the song, falling into a waking dream.

The images came easy. Naturally.

Him in front of me, that dimple and easy grin, his hair falling over his brow.

My head tipped back, meeting his hazel eyes, more green than brown in that moment.

Then he’d find my hand without looking, the warmth of his broad palm connecting with my cooler one.

His cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink, but nerves didn’t get the better of him as he moved, and I followed.