Saving Wishes (The Wishes Series) (9 page)

The afternoon passed in a blur. Daylight in the Cove during winter faded quickly. Overcast days led to the blackest of nights, and trying to find our way back to the car on a moonless night would not have been anywhere near as romantic as it sounded.

“I should get you home,” he breathed, perhaps realising this.

“You should,” I agreed, very reluctantly.

***

I wasn’t surprised to see Alex’s Ute in the driveway. “I’ll walk you in,” offered Adam, undoing his seatbelt.

“No, it’s fine. It’s cold.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “I thought you said Alex was okay with this.”

“He is, I promise. But I was supposed to be covering a shift for him at the café this afternoon,” I confessed.

“Are you in trouble?”

“Always,” I said, matching his expression. “To varying degrees.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He brushed my face with the back of his hand, making my heart fly. I nodded worried that my words would be gibberish if I tried to speak.

I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and never stop kissing him, but there was a fair chance that Alex was watching. He’d shown remarkable understanding when it came to my newfound love life – not even I was willing to push my luck. I was almost to the veranda when Adam called to me.

“You might need this,” he said, walking towards me with my bag.

“Thank you.”

He slung the bag over my shoulder. The lock he had on my eyes lingered a little too long. “What?” I asked, confused by the silence.

“Fais de beaux rêves, ma Coccinelle.” His silky accent shattered my concentration. Any ability I had to comprehend what he was saying was now redundant.

“Okay.” It was the absolute best reply I could muster. I didn’t even wait for his car to leave. I raced into the house, heading straight for the bookshelf in the lounge.

“Charli?” Alex sounded mad already.

“Give me a minute.” I ran my finger along the line of books, searching for my French dictionary.

“I want to talk to you,” he demanded, ignoring my plea for time.

“Found it,” I said gleefully, grabbing the book off the shelf and waving it at him.

Alex snatched the dictionary from my grasp and dropped it on the coffee table. “What happened to working this afternoon?”

“I lost track of time. I’m sorry,” I replied, knowing I’d have to work much harder to appease him.

He started pacing the room, resting his hands behind his head as if his brain ached. It seemed to take an eternity for him to speak. I knew he was beyond angry now. I also knew it had very little to do with me not showing up for work. Finally he turned to face me. “This isn’t a democracy, Charli. One of us gets to be the boss and guess what?”

“What?”

“It’s still me.” He didn’t sound as menacing as he’d probably intended.

I kicked up anyway. “You’re not the boss, Alex!”

“See, that’s the thing,” he taunted. “I
am
the boss. I have a big certificate to prove it.” He drew invisible letters in the air, just to drive his point home. “Alex Blake is hereby the boss of Charlotte Elisabeth Blake. I should get it framed.” The use of my full name was intentional. He knew it grated on me. “I do not want to go down this road with you.” He struggled with the words but I knew what he meant. Meeting Adam hadn’t just thrown me for a loop – Alex had no idea how to deal with it either. It was as if we were both sailing unchartered waters, without a map, in the dark. “I’ve almost managed to keep you on the rails until now. Don’t let me down.”

I didn’t reply, and I think he appreciated the lack of backchat. He picked the book up, handing it to me like a peace offering. “What do you want the dictionary for? It’s a bit late in the game for that, isn’t it?”

“I wanted to translate something Adam said to me.”

“What was it?” he asked.

I looked at him blankly, trying to repeat Adam’s beautiful words in my head. I remembered the look he gave me but drew a complete blank when it came to the phrase he’d spoken.

“I forget,” I muttered. At least it made him smile.

6. Charm

Six days was all it took for my pre-Adam life to fade. Spending time with him made everything else pale in comparison, which became painfully obvious when I considered the number of uncompleted school assignments I had due the next day.

This knowledge took none of the shine off seeing him waiting for me after school. Adam picked me up every day, always ten minutes late. It was the only sure-fire way I knew of avoiding the Beautifuls.

“Good afternoon, Coccinelle.”

I repeated the word, botching the pronunciation so badly that he laughed.

“You haven’t worked it out yet?” He pretended to be surprised.

“I don’t speak French,” I grumbled, shifting my stack of books from one arm to the other.

“Oh, that’s right,” he said, drawing out his words.

“You could just translate it,” I said hopefully. He smirked, and I knew he had no intention of translating anything for me.

His strong arms wrapped around me the second I was within reach and I pressed against him. The stack of books separating us kept the embrace polite.

“I’ll tell you one day,” he breathed, landing a quick kiss on my lips. “Meanwhile, what are we doing today?”

I wanted to tell him we were going to the beach, or back to my house to watch a trashy movie that, from past experience, neither of us would pay attention to. But I couldn’t. The road Alex didn’t want me to travel was getting long and winding. Adam’s knack for taking my mind off anything other than him was making me crazy, and my inability to get my homework completed was making me stupid.

“I have to go to the library,” I said grimly.

Adam’s face lit up like I’d just invited him on a trip to the moon. “Wow,” he said, astonished. “I didn’t see that coming.”

I nudged my armful of books into his chest. Taking the books from my grasp, he pulled me in close again. My fingers laced through his as I stretched up to get closer to his ear.

“I hear they have books and stuff there,” I whispered.

Adam laughed softly. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” I agreed, composing myself instantly by pulling him across the car park by his free arm.

“Is it going to be open?” he asked. “The whole place looks deserted.”

“Mrs Young is always there. I think she lives there. She’s a scary woman, Adam Décarie.”

I knew he was intentionally lagging behind me. Changing tack, I let him walk ahead of me.

“I’ll charm her,” he teased.

“You won’t be able to. She’s un-charmable,” I replied, prodding him in the back to hurry him along.

“Superb use of the English language, Charlotte,” he mocked.

The library was deserted. Adam waited near the open door while I paced the end of the aisles looking for signs of life. I jumped when Mrs Young appeared out of nowhere and called my name.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here in two years, Charli,” she said gruffly. She was probably not exaggerating.

“I know, but I have a mountain of work due,” I complained. “I just need a couple of hours.”

Mrs Young shook her head so severely that I thought her wire-rimmed glasses would fly right off her face. She played the part of spinster librarian perfectly. Her ivory blouse was crease free and stiff, matching her upper lip. The heavy tweed trousers she wore probably played a part in keeping her posture so rigid. “I have a committee meeting in ten minutes,” she said, tapping her watch. “Come back tomorrow.”

Cue the gorgeous French American boy, who until that point had merely observed from the doorway.

“Ah, Mrs Young, I would be more than happy to ensure the library is locked up when we’re done,” he offered.

“And who might you be?” she asked, far less icily than she’d greeted me.

Adam extended his hand. She shook his hand, grinning like a smitten teenager. It made me smile. She wasn’t a day under sixty.

“My name is Adam Décarie. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” he said, using the unfair advantage of a gorgeous accent and equally gorgeous face to stun her.

“Oh, ah, likewise,” she stammered. “Are you any relation to Gabrielle?”

“Yes Ma’am. Gabrielle is my cousin.”

“Lovely,” she cooed.

“I will make sure Gabrielle gets the keys this evening. She can pass them on to you in the morning.”

Adam wasn’t asking permission and Mrs Young didn’t care. She handed him the bunch of keys. Just as she got to the door, he called out, “Don’t forget this.” He handed her the dated grey cardigan from the back of her desk chair. She thanked him and walked out. Adam stood with his back against the door, twirling the keys and wiggling his eyebrows like a cartoon villain.

“You’re shameless.” It was impossible to keep the smile out of my voice.

“Un-charmable, huh?” he asked smugly.

“Is no one immune, Adam?”

He walked over to me, leaned down and rested both hands on the desk behind me, trapping me at an awkward angle. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to. And when his lips found their way to mine, I couldn’t have cared if I never moved again. He murmured my name against my mouth and I managed a small groan of acknowledgement.

“You have work to do,” he reminded me. He stepped aside, motioning towards the aisles of books with an upward nod.

“I do,” I agreed, trying to calm my thumping heart.

By the time I’d completed enough work to scrape a passing grade, the heat between us was unbearable. Adam sat next to me, so engrossed in an Australian history book that I wondered if the feeling was one-sided.

“I’m done,” I announced, slamming my book shut.

Adam barely glanced up. “Charli, did you know that Australia is the sixth largest country in the world?”

Groaning, I buried my head in my hands, making him laugh. He slapped his book shut, reached over and pulled me into his lap.

We stared at each other for a long moment. I tried to guess what he was seeing – something I’d done from the minute I met him. I swallowed hard, desperate for him to make a move but not confident enough to do it myself.

Finally he leaned forward, slowly skimming his lips along my jaw. Unable to slow my racing heart or thoughts any longer, I knotted my hands through his hair, drawing his lips to mine. I had no idea how far I was prepared to go. All of the lines I’d carefully set myself blurred into the distance. Being close to him was all I could think about and at that point in time, I couldn’t get close enough. His hands slid up the back of my shirt and I felt small in his arms, totally absorbed in his touch, his smell and the way he breathed unevenly.

“Charli, stop,” he whispered. His hands moved to my shoulders, gently pushing me away. He inhaled deeply, pulling in one long breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he said, smiling as he brushed the side of my face with his hand. I jumped off his lap, straightening my clothes. Adam stood too. “We should go, before we both ignite.” He picked my coat up off the chair.

“Yes. Books are very flammable.” My voice was small and hid none of the awkwardness I felt. I was barely able to look at him.

“Charli, I – ”

“Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what?” he asked.

“Don’t say anything,” I muttered, trying to drag my coat on as we made our way to the door.

Getting out of the library was a good idea.

The drive back in to town was mostly silent. Adam concentrated on the road but my occasional glances in his direction were always met by a glance from him.

I played it out in my head over and over, trying to make sense of it all. Less than a week ago I was okay – bored, mediocre and uninspired but okay nonetheless. At this moment, sitting in this beautiful car, next to the most beautiful boy I had ever known, I realised I had no clue what I was doing.

He turned right at the turnoff, heading back into town. “Where are we going, Charli?” he asked quietly.

“Can you take me back to the café? I’ll get a lift home with Alex.”

“I can take you home if you’d like.”

“No, no. Its fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing about the whole situation was fine.

I glanced at him again but his eyes remained firmly on the road ahead. I hated the shift between us.

“Wherever you want to go,” he said.

There were no cars at the café when we arrived and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I fumbled with the clasp on my seatbelt as if I was desperate to escape the car.

“Flee-itis, Charli?” he teased.

“You’re making me crazy, Adam. It’s too much.”

He reached for my hand, and kissed my fingers. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offered.

I sighed. “What’s the deal?”

“You won’t run away from this, whatever
this
is...”

“And in return?”

“I won’t let you get too crazy,” he said, smiling.