Back to You(45)

Lauren covered her face with her hands and laughed, and Adam leaned over the table, removing her hands. “A month,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles and lighting the warmth in her belly again. “And then another three months as an outpatient,” he said, finally releasing her hand to lift his utensils. “Ready?”
She looked him in the eyes and nodded. “I think so,” she said softly, and whether he realized it or not, she was referencing more than tasting the meal.
The main course was fantastic, and the dessert made Lauren moan, much to her embarrassment and Adam’s amusement. Their conversation was effortless, and interesting, and funny, and Lauren couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. The entire date couldn’t have gone more perfectly.
But despite that, as Adam walked her up to her door, she felt the familiar trepidation building low in her stomach, creeping its way into her chest.
They stopped before her door, and Lauren turned to him, smiling softly. “Thank you so much. I had an amazing time.”
“I’m glad,” he said, looking down at her, and she could tell by the way his eyes flickered back and forth between hers that he was assessing her.
Lauren glanced down, biting her lower lip before she looked back up at him. She wanted to kiss him, she did. She just wished—
He leaned down then, stopping her thoughts as he pressed his lips to hers, and she gasped against his mouth. He immediately stilled, giving her the option to pull away, but after a stunned second she sighed, leaning into him as she deepened the kiss, temporarily forgetting her anxiety and even her name as their lips began moving together.
His mouth was amazing; tender, soft, and playful, sending little bolts of electricity to all the right places in her body.
She had no idea how long they’d been kissing—it could have been minutes or days, she was so lost in the feeling he was giving her—before she finally came back to reality. Her body was completely flush with his; one of his hands wasHappy New Year"> shoulder in her hair, the other on her hip, and she had both of her hands fisted in the front of his shirt.
She pulled back slightly, releasing a trembling breath, and he dropped his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, smiling.
“Adam,” she breathed.
“Mm?”
She exhaled shakily. “I’m not going to invite you upstairs.”
He kept his forehead pressed against hers, but he smiled softly. “I wouldn’t have come up even if you did,” he whispered, his lips ghosting hers on every word.
Her mouth parted softly, and she found herself lifting her chin, trying to increase the pressure of his lips on her own, but he pulled back slightly, brushing the hair away from her face. “You’re something different, Lauren. I’m not gonna rush this.”
He leaned down again, pressing his lips to hers one more time before he took a step back. “I’ll call you tomorrow?” he said.
Lauren nodded, unable to speak, and he smiled his trademark grin. “Good night,” he said, kissing her hand before he turned to walk down the pathway toward his car.
Lauren watched him go for a second before she turned toward her door and unlocked it in a complete stupor.
She undressed, put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed, completely on autopilot.
But as soon as she was lying in the comfort of her bed, all her faculties returned to her at once, and she couldn’t help but replay the entire night in her mind over and over. She smiled to herself, curling the blanket into her chest when it tingled with the memory of the way he made her laugh, the way he looked at her.
The way his mouth felt on hers.
There were only a handful of memories Lauren had done this with; committing it to her mind, playing it on repeat like a favorite movie, pulling it from her subconscious whenever she needed to smile, or laugh, or sigh.
And before this night, all those memories had belonged to Michael.

December 2001
Miserable did not even come close to describing how Lauren was feeling. She laid in her bed, her comforter and an extra quilt tucked up around her chin and a tissue crammed in each nostril. A sudden flash of heat overcame her, and she sat up and kicked off her covers with an angry huff, which quickly turned into a violent coughing fit.
“God,” she groaned, her voice gravelly as she scooped her matted hair into a makeshift ponytail just to get it off her neck.
“Damn, Red. You look like shit.”
Lauren’s eyes flashed to her bedroom doorway; through her coughing, she hadn’t even heard anyone come up the stairs.
“Gee thanks,” she said, pulling the tissues out of her nose as discreetly as she could. She was lucid enough to realize she should have been humiliated at being seen in this condition, especially by Michael, but truth be told, she was too sick to even pretend to care. “Why are you here?” she croaked. “You should be at the dance.”