Page 15

Thirteen

Revenge was a dish best served cold. Seeing Adam lying there defenceless, so peaceful, I recalled my vow for revenge.

He probably thought I wouldn’t recall yesterday’s tickling torture session.

Well, now the opportunity was presenting itself to me.

There, right next to his bed was a nice big glass of water.

It was singing out to me, calling my name, begging to be an accomplice in my scheme.

I tiptoed over to Adam’s bedside, carefully clutching the cool glass and lifting it in a firm hold to my chest. My head tilted to the side as I studied what would be the best approach with this.

Tentative little drips between the eyes or full-on deluge?

Hmm, the decisions were all so delicious to choose from.

I think I would combine the two, drips then …

Oh shit.

Adam opened his eyes; like a Ninja sensing someone lurking in the shadows his sleepy eyes opened, and then, locking onto me hovering above him, they widened, stilling me.

Oh shit, oh shit.

I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights: so sprung, so dead. Adam’s eyes flicked to the glass, and then back to my face.

“What ya doing there, Tiger?”

I simply brought the glass to my lips, raising my brows as I sipped.

I smacked my lips together in appreciation.

“Mmm, want some?” I asked, but it sounded more a threat than a question, and by the look on his face he knew it.

Never once did he take his eyes from me; we were stuck there frozen in a standoff, trying to predict one another’s next move.

“I think I’ll pass,” he said, a wry smile curving his lips. “But, hey, thanks for thinking of me.” His words were laced in sarcasm.

“Hey, you know I’ve always got your back,” I said sweetly.

“While holding a knife?”

“Oh, Adam, you’re so paranoid,” I said, taking another taunting sip of the water.

His eyes dipped to my mouth. “Yeah, can’t imagine why.”

And just as I was feeling like I actually had the upper hand, a knock sounded at Adam’s door; our attention lapsed for a mere moment as Ringer popped his head through the door.

Adam sat bolt upright in bed. The sudden movement startled me; my natural reflex resulted in dumping the glass of water over Adam and bolting for the door.

“Right, you are DEAD!” I heard called from behind me.

“Ringer, stop her.” But luckily for me, Ringer simply held his hands up in surrender, refusing to get involved as I pushed past him in the doorway, screaming.

It was lucky for me, seeing as Ringer was well renowned for his 100-metre sprints; the boy was like a bloody cheetah.

I ran down the hall, my bare feet gaining traction on the carpet.

I dared only look back when I swung around the banister to head down the stairs.

He was close; I screamed as he lunged for me, narrowly escaping as I started down, skipping every other step.

I heard the apartment door open, no doubt Chris and Tammy coming to investigate the chaos.

I dived into the restaurant, weaving through the tables, wishing I could tip them over like they did in the movies in order to slow down my assailant.

Best I could manage was a chair, but that only did so much.

I pushed through the divider and legged it into the main bar, breathless and laughing at the sight of Adam charging after me in his boxers, his hair and face still wet.

The front door was dead bolted and there was no time for that; I skidded around the corner into the poolroom, and incidentally into a dead end.

I ran around the pool table, thankful for the momentary barrier, allowing myself to gain my breath while my eyes locked with Adam’s on the other side.

“Looks like you’ve had a wet dream, and not the good kind,” I managed, through heaving breaths.

“More like a nightmare,” he countered, leaning on the pool table.

When I moved to the left he moved, when I moved to the right he moved.

I really didn’t want to die this way. The one thing that Adam and I shared was a massive stubborn streak, the kind that could see us held up in the poolroom for days.

Luckily I had a lunch date with Tammy so at least she would come looking for me if I was a no-show.

Maybe she could slide a burger toward me using a pool cue.

We were locked in a standoff once more, and just like before, Ringer, who made his way casually into the poolroom, eyeing the scene with great amusement, distracted us.

“Thanks for the help,” Adam deadpanned.

“Hey, I learnt long ago not to get involved in a lovers’ spat,” Ringer joked.

Adam smirked, his usual reaction whenever the boys joked about anything Adam-and-Ellie related. He smirked because he knew they were only joking, that we weren’t like that, that saying anything along those lines wasn’t based on any actual fact. We were friends. Just. Friends.

“Christ, Ellie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ringer laughed.

I quickly blinked, thinking how every emotion in me was so readable on my face these days, and I kicked myself for not being more aware of my reactions.

“Wow, you see that, Ringer?” Adam leaned his elbows on top of the pool table, which only accentuated his abs. Oh, sweet Jesus, poker face, Ellie. Poker. Face.

“That right there is what fear looks like.”

No kidding, just not the kind he thought.

I scoffed. “Whatever.”

“You know you can’t possibly win this; I mean, you know that, right?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve already won. Ringer, do you want to grab Adam a towel? I would hate for him to catch a cold.” I pouted.

Adam’s eyes blazed in a not-so-thinly disguised look of challenge. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind as he mentally blueprinted the best tactic to make me pay. I’m not going to lie, it was kind of hot.

“Hey, Ringer.” He directed his conversation over his shoulder, but never once tore his eyes from me. “What do you think the reach of one of those post mix guns would be, you reckon?”

Ringer grinned like a cat that got the cream; so much for him not getting involved.

“Well, from personal experience, quite an impressive distance, I’d say.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

My brows lowered as Adam edged toward the bar.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“You can’t! The pool table.” I pointed, thinking surely he wouldn’t dare damage the cloth; he would have Chris to answer to.

“Oh, there have been far worse things spilled on that table top.”

I flinched away from holding the edge of the table. “Ew.”

“I think you have better things to worry about,” added Ringer, who now sat casually on top of a barstool, arms crossed, watching on with great amusement.

Bastard.

Adam was trying to be cool as he blindly reached for the post mix gun, attempting to find it while never taking his eyes from me. I knew if I bolted Ringer would probably just block my way.

Life can be cruel sometimes.

But to my surprise, Ringer slid off his barstool, seemingly bored by the situation playing out before him.

“Come and get me when you’ve finished your game of kiss-chasey.”

“Give me a few minutes. This won’t take long,” replied Adam with a devilish smirk.

“Oh, cocky much?”

“I like my chances.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Ugh, for Christ’s sake, get a room, you two.” Ringer flipped on his sunnies and made his way out of the poolroom.

Adam’s eyes narrowed after him, seemingly annoyed by what he had said.

I could have used this moment of distraction to leg it, to run and never look back, but I didn’t.

I didn’t because I knew Adam would never stop chasing me, and that I would literally have to watch my back, sleep with one eye open.

I would be living in a perpetual state of fear when all I really wanted was to enjoy my weekend.

It was bad enough that I was as good as under house arrest until tonight.

So I decided to take charge, but in a different way, an unexpected way, according to Adam’s reaction.

His brows raised in surprise as he watched me walk around the pool table, not away from him, but toward him.

He straightened, seemingly tensing as I approached, as if I weren’t to be trusted; to be honest, I couldn’t exactly blame him.

When my hand wrapped over his hand that held the post mix gun he flinched, a reaction that only made me laugh as I brought the nozzle up to my face.

I closed my eyes and pushed, drenching myself in, of all things, dirty soda water.

Thoroughly saturated, I let go of Adam’s hand, wiping my face and scratching my nose from the tickle of the bubbles. I opened my eyes to see Adam looking at me like I was a crazed woman.

“There,” I said. “Now we’re even.”

I felt so smug. Like victory was mine in some bizarre kind of way.

I had turned the tables and took the power back; I was now untouchable, like I could walk away free, knowing I wouldn’t have to be constantly looking over my shoulder.

Even though a portion of my hair was plastered to the side of my face, I lifted my chin to look defiantly at Adam.

I thought maybe he would find it somewhat amusing, that he might have a little smirk and shake his head, call me a lunatic.

Remembering how I could usually predict all of Adam’s responses before they actually happened.

But this time his look was nothing like I would have predicted: his mouth agape, his expression troubled, almost stunned like he couldn’t quite form the words.

I kind of liked this unknown reaction, it made me feel even more powerful, and I cockily placed my hand on my hips. “Well, well, Adam Henderson, speechless; well, this is an added bonus,” I quipped, revelling in his almost-awkward stance.

Adam swallowed, turning his head to the side, blinking, as if trying to shake his thoughts together. Was he going red?

“E-Ellie, your umm … it’s … umm …”

My brows knitted together in confusion, my eyes following where his finger blindly pointed to … Oh, my God!

My nightie, my white nightie, drenched in soda water had rendered it completely see-through.

I gasped, clutching at my chest and spinning away from him, mortified.

Oh, this could not be happening, this could not be happening.

“Do you, ah, want me to grab a towel or something?” Adam asked, facing the wall.

“Yes, anything,” I snapped, my arms crossed over my chest, cringing at the visible panty line.

Adam went to move, but stilled hearing the sound of footsteps making their way through the main bar.

Perfect!

Instead of leaving, Adam instinctively stepped in front of me, shielding me from whoever was making their way into the poolroom. Could this possibly get any worse?

Chris appeared through the alcove, coming to a standstill directly in front of us, his confused eyes locking on to Adam in his boxers, me drenched, peeking over his shoulder, standing in a pool of soda water.

No, no, it couldn’t get much worse than this.

Chris placed his hands on his hips, fury building as he took in the disaster before him.

“What the actual fuck?”