Attraction - a fraudulent marriage

11. one night

This is the revised version of Attraction (and now mature)

I always found that the air tasted special at twilight. Warmth remaining from fading sun mixed with the rapidly cooling air, turning vapor into a veil of mist above the grass.

The others sat inside around a candle lit table, waiting for dessert. I couldn't stomach much more and had sneaked out for a breather.

Venus twinkled in the distance, faint but fair in the relative darkness. Mars was out there somewhere, as well, but I wasn't sure where to look. It was supposedly reddish, but my astronomy skills could do with a polish. I wondered if Tom would have liked me better if I were a woman. He hadn't said anything about his sexuality, and I'd never had the courage to ask outright.

I had a feeling that he was bisexual, or if not, he was seriously good at staying beneath the gay radar. I glanced over my shoulder, watching Tom chat with the others. He spoke sparingly, but whenever he uttered a word, the others listened. His rigid stance made it seem like he wore a shell, an exoskeleton hiding the vulnerability beneath.

Adam caught me watching, perking up in an instant. He leaned across the table, not far from setting his hair on fire, said something, and rose to leave. He fetched a glass from my empty spot and squeezed through the patio door.

"Hey you." He handed me the drink with a soft smile.

"Hey Addy."

We clinked our glasses, staying silent until the tone of ringing crystal dispersed into the night.

"Was the food okay?" I asked, almost biting my tongue at the trivial question. I was fairly certain that he had something serious on his mind that he wanted to talk about. He had that look on his face—a fine wrinkle between his brows and a gaze that drifted as if lost in thought.

"Seafood is my favorite, but I'm eager to taste the dessert. Cloudberries, vanilla and chocolate can't go wrong."

"Add some liquor to that, and we're talking."

Adam tilted his glass and drank with a kind of delicacy that never left him. It was difficult to imagine that someone had wanted to hurt him.

He puffed out a breath, shifted his weight and fidgeted with his cuffs. The guy was easy to read. He wanted something but was nervous about saying it out loud.

"Are you in love with him?" he asked.

I gripped the stone railing and studied the line of trees against the darkening sky. The question wasn't entirely unexpected, especially not from Adam. He cared deeply about love and had every reason to question the sanity of joining hands with someone I knew virtually nothing about.

"No, I don't love him. I barely know him."

"You look like you're in love."

I stretched my lips into a grin. Adam was painfully innocent sometimes. "It's called lust, Addy. Don't confuse it with love. That only leads to ruin, or so I've heard."

He sipped his drink, allowing both of us to settle in the momentary silence. I didn't need to tell him how confused I was—that was something I would have to figure out on my own.

"Just don't get hurt."

I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him close to my side. "No one's getting hurt. I promise."

We stood there, staring out into nothing while hearing life passing by behind us. It felt as if I'd entered a secret hide-out where we remained a part of the world but skirted the fringes. Warmth escaped from the buzz of voices and the flickering candles—it seemed to pull us in, one inch at a time until we had no choice.