CHAPTER 25: It's 2 am, and you and Adam walk down the streets of New York City after a Christmas party where you met once again by some kind of miracle, nine months after Adam got screwed over by his girlfriend and you and him had a one night stand in a bar bathroom, both pretty plastered and fucked up. He got back with his girlfriend, you got pissed, he got pissed, he drove off and you didn't see each other for nine months. Only, despite your best efforts to avoid developing any feelings for him whatsoever, they started sneaking in on you, slowly, creeping and tip-toeing so carefully yet steadily that you didn't have a chance to stop them, and now, now that you've met him again, now that you've looked at him and heard his voice, they're overwhelming. You've been talking the whole evening, enjoying each other's company, and now he's taking you to this small bar-ish place he knows, and you don't even stop talking while you walk there - you just talk and talk and talk and talk about everything that crosses your minds. At one point, Adam pulls out his phone from his jacket pocket (you're kind of surprised he carries it around in the pocket of his tux) and starts playing a song with someone you've never heard of, but who sound amazing, and one time two girls walk towards you, shouting Adam's name, and he looks at you and grins and grabs your hand and starts running, and you laugh and follow him as you hear the girls screaming after you. Once you've gotten rid of his screaming fans and stop running, he lets go of your hand and smiles, and although he seems casual about just having held your hand tightly, you can't get the sensation of his warm palm against yours out of your head. It was nice, and you kind of want it back, yet Adam doesn't seem like he's thinking anything of it, and you don't want to push your luck. Just being around him is great, and it's enough.
As soon as you enter the bar, you realize it's the absolute perfect place if you don't want to be found by too curious fans. It's a small place, yet not too small for privacy, and it's filled with corners and niches where people sit by hidden tables and talk without anyone even noticing their presence, and when Adam walks in, the bartender immediately steps out and smiles and says: ''Hi, Mr. Adam!'' and then he looks at you and he grins before escorting you to a hidden table by the back of the room, because of its remote location primarily lit up by the one candle in its middle. Adam pulls out your chair for you, before sitting down across from you (and they say chivalry's dead) and ordering a bottle of champagne. You look at him, not able to hide your surprise, and as soon as the bartender host guy walks off to get your orders, you lean forward and stare at his smiling face, puzzled.
''What are we celebrating?'' you ask curiously, trying hopelessly to contain your joy over the fact that you're sitting with him, you're one on one and he just ordered champagne, you have all night, you can talk, you can just be there and not think about how fucked up your brief acquaintance nine months ago was, you can just be Emilie and Adam, two old friends catching up. It's amazing. He smiles at you, a smile filled with warmth and kindness and happiness, before shrugging and leaning back in his chair, slinging one leg over the other.
''Well, I thought that the fact that you and I miraculously met again after nine months at some fuckin' random Christmas party...'' He chuckles, ''was worth some good old champagne celebration. Don't you agree?''
You smile wide, meeting his eyes, feeling how his happiness is drifting around the room and filling you up completely. His grin is infectious.
''Definitely worth a toast,'' you nod, softly laughing with him, enjoying everything, feeling happier than you have in forever. The night is casting its spell over you, and everything you look at is promising, little components in a big, beautiful world. The bartender-host brings you a bottle of champagne and two glasses. and he pours for both of you, wishing you a good night. You toast, bumping glasses over the candle, the flame casting glows in your eyes, and then Adam looks at you and smiles a light, but somehow tender smile, and says: ''Believe It or not, but I'm actually happy I've met you tonight. I love a good first impression, and yours is definitely awesome. I like this, which is weird, cause you should be reminding me
of my girlfriend and I should be sobbing in my whisky glass in some rotten karaoke bar. But you don't, and I like that. Basically, you know, just.... thanks for not slapping me the moment you saw my face. I... I probably deserved it if you had, but, you know... thanks for just smiling at me and talking to me and pretending we've never met. It's kind of... refreshing, not feeling like I fucked it all up for once. It's kind of a hobby of mine, and, well... it's nice to break things up a little. I'm really...'' He chuckles slightly nervously, and seems shy, which almost makes you blush. ''...like, really excited that you wanted to come with me, to be honest. I'm happy we can still talk.''
You smile faintly, feeling all warm inside, and you look at him with deep-felt joy in your eyes, wanting to hug him, but staying still. He's so sweet, and although he was an asshole nine months ago, how can you not fall for his genuine smile, his shy words, his kind, sparkly eyes? You enjoy being with him, that's too obvious to deny, and you can't help but feel kind of relieved and rather happy that he apparently enjoys being with you, too.
''I'm really happy we can still talk, too,'' you admit, meeting his gaze, holding it, loving the way you're both sitting right now, in the stillness, pushing all the shit away, just enjoying this very moment. He lifts his glass, reaches out, and smiles as you, once again, bump your glass to his, and at the same time you both sip the champagne, engulfed in the magic of the night.
As you leave the bar-ish place later that morning at maybe 5 or 6 am, and Adam takes your arm and helps you down the one step from the door to the curb, the magic of the night is slowly vanishing with the sunrise, but your own magic hasn't quite subsided. You hold on to him as you walk a few steps, and then you're loosening your grip, letting go, and you look up at him as he smiles and let his arm drop to the side. His eyes are kind of sleepy, and you can't blame him, cause you're getting tired too, after being up for almost twenty-four hours straight, although you'd wish you wouldn't have to split.
''I wanna do this again,'' you say, looking for approval in his eyes, and smiling widely when you see it as an immediate presence in the warm gaze he sends you.
''Yeah, sure,'' he answers softly. ''Call me.'' There's a hint of laughter in his voice, because actually he texted you a few hours ago so you'd have his number, since you deleted it a long time ago, just as he deleted yours. Your heart stops beating for just a second as you see him leaning in, and then, briefly, gently, feel the brush of his soft lips on your cheek. He looks at you, and just before walking off into the sunrise, he adds: ''Don't dial the wrong number.''
THE END
