The Libby Garrett Intervention (Science Squad #2) (22 page)

Adam swallowed as if his throat had closed up before slowly lifting his eyes from the page to meet my gaze. Twisting the book in his hands in a white-knuckled grip, he nodded toward the garbage bag I held. “Open that.” His voice came out raspy.

I opened the bag and he tossed the book inside. “Hey wha—”

“I think that counts as Owen stuff.”

After taking a big breath, he let it out slowly, wetting his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and turned back to the bookshelf.

What was his deal? He couldn’t possibly be
that
attracted to me. Owen was a fluke. No way could I attract two freaking scrumptious guys. But there was an undeniable heat in his stare that made my heart race.

“Are there any more Owen books here?”

“Not if you’re going to start throwing them away.”

Adam turned around and gave me a look.
The
look. What was it about that face that forced my will to give in to his? If I weren’t graduating this year, I’d use that question as my next science fair project. “Fine. There are a few. But do I have to get rid of them?”

He held up another book he’d found with dog-eared pages. “Would you be able to read this without thinking about whatever time you and Owen acted it out?”

When my face flushed, he threw the book into the garbage bag with its sequel.

“Still, it’s not like I have the money to go and replace my book collection.”

Mr. No Sympathy rolled his eyes. “You can buy books like this for ten cents apiece at any secondhand store. Then you can read new sexy scenes and dog-ear your favorites to shock some other poor, unsuspecting guy with.”

I wanted to be mad, but I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. I stepped over to the bookshelf and sighed dramatically as I pulled about a dozen books off the bookshelf and dumped them in the bag. I moved slowly, giving Adam ample time to see each cover, wishing I could make him blush. But after I got rid of the last book, I looked up at his face and was surprised to find him smirking. It annoyed me. “What?”

Seeing my irritation, he laughed and shook his head. “Only you, Libby, would keep
Fifty Shades of Grey
on your bookshelf between Harry Potter and a biography on John Adams.”

I couldn’t hold my pout, and grinned at him again. “I have eclectic taste.”

“So it would seem.” He scanned the room. “So what else is there? Movies? Music? Any gifts he gave you?”

My eyes immediately shot to the small velvet-covered box on my dresser. Adam followed my gaze. “The jewelry box?”

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of Adam making me throw out what was inside, and I quickly shook my head. “No. It’s nothing. Never mind.”

Adam’s answering smile was sympathetic. “You’re not a great liar, Libby.”

Sighing, I opened the box to show Adam the pair of diamond earrings inside. When Adam saw them, his eyes widened. “Owen gave you those?”

I nodded and Adam whistled. “No wonder you don’t want to throw them out. But you could sell them.”

My stomach churned at the thought of selling the earrings. “You don’t understand.” I took a breath and prayed I could explain myself without having an episode of emotional diarrhea. “Owen surprised me with them when I turned eighteen. He couldn’t come to my birthday party—at least, that’s what he’d claimed—but he’d taken me out the next weekend to celebrate, just the two of us, and he gave me these earrings. It’s not just that they’re expensive. They were special, you know? They were a
real
gift. I’d never been given anything like that from a guy before.” I swallowed and glared at Adam, steeling my resolve against the argument I knew he would soon berate me with. “I don’t care if they remind me of Owen for the rest of my life. I’ve never felt more special than the night he gave me these, and I probably never will again, so I’m not getting rid of them.”

Whatever Adam saw in my expression, it was enough to keep him silent as I closed the jewelry box and set it back on my dresser. There was a beat of awkward silence as Adam studied me, and I ignored his heavy gaze. He sighed and said, “What else?”

I finally looked at him. “There are some songs that remind me of Owen, but I’m not letting you delete my iTunes.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “You’re missing the point of this exercise, Libby.”

“I
need
my music. And some of the songs on my Owen playlist are my favorites. They’re not going. No way, no how, Coffee Man. I don’t care how many times you cock that sexy eyebrow at me.”

I crossed my arms and took a defiant stance. Adam matched it and waited me out with a brutal stare. I narrowed my eyes. He was so not going to win this one. “It’s my workout music and my boarding music. You are not getting rid of it. How about I just delete the Owen playlist and put those songs into new lists?”
Like the new Coffee Man Mix I’d started the other night…
“Out of order, they won’t remind me of Owen.”

I expected Mr. Bad Cop to shut down the compromise, but he surprised me with a nod. “That’s fair. But if it becomes a problem later, like some stupid sappy song always makes you cry or whatever, then you’ll have to delete the ones that cause emotional outbursts.”

I snorted. “Again. Sexist. I do
not
have emotional outbursts. That’s Avery’s department. I also don’t do sappy, Coffee Man. I happen to have rockin’ taste in music.”

I opened up my iTunes on my computer and pulled up Owen’s playlist. Reading over my shoulder, Adam laughed. “Elvis Presley? Marvin Gaye?”

“Have you ever even listened to either of them?”

“No.”

It was my turn to give him a look. “What do you listen to? Metal crap?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t listen to music much. I don’t have a computer or an mp3 player or anything. I just hear whatever’s playing on the radio at work.”

He had no way of listening to music? The poor, deprived man. I needed to find a way to fix that for him. And I definitely needed to expand his musical palate. “Ugh. Top 40 crap. Avery and Grayson love that junk. And Owen only ever listens to rap and all that booty-shaking club music.” I shuddered, repulsed. “No one ever appreciates the classics anymore.”

“Classics?” Adam asked.

I was supposed to delete my Owen playlist, but instead I grinned at Adam and hit
PLAY
. “Allow me to enlighten you, oh sexy spiritual guide, and together we can reach a musical nirvana.”

His lips twitched when the first few bars of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” seeped through the speakers and filled the room. I laughed and let the music roll over me. “Marvin is the man.”

I’ve never been shy—not even a little—but I do hold myself back a lot out of fear. People are cruel and rarely appreciate my wicked style and sense of humor. Adam didn’t give me that fear. He wasn’t going to judge or make fun of me. I felt comfortable in his presence. With it being just the two of us, it was easy to be myself, and I let myself go, swaying to the scrumptious tune.

Another look of surprise flashed in Adam’s eyes. He stood there and watched me dance as if he wasn’t sure what to think of me, or what to do with me. Yes, he clearly thought I was insane, but there was a hint of amusement behind his tough guy act, so I grinned at him and started to dance for him, lip-syncing along to the lyrics. I sang along loudly when it got to my favorite line.

Finally, Adam shook his head and laughed. “You are crazy, Libby Garrett.”

“Admit it. This song is pure genius.”

It took him a moment, but he conceded. “It’s good.”

I grinned again and went to my closet, letting the music play. Pushing my clothes aside, I pulled out a plastic storage container and popped a squat on the floor. “Owen only ever gave me presents of a certain nature. I had to hide them, because I would die if my parents found them.”

Adam came to sit with me and plucked the top article of clothing from the pile in the bin. “The cat shirts!” He held up the shirt to look at it. It was a really fat cat wearing a bunch of gold bling all gangsta style. It had lots of glitter. “Oh, I’ve missed the cat shirts!”

I choked on a laugh. “You
like
the cat shirts?”

He smirked. “Are you kidding? They’re
hideous
. I
love
them.”

I’d have thought he was joking, but his smile was too genuine. He picked up another one that was of a couple kittens flying through outer space in tacos. “This was always my favorite one. I mean, seriously, how the hell did something this ugly even get made?”

Despite the fact that he was insulting my old wardrobe, he made me laugh. “Shows how much you know. That shirt is cute. Look at those kittens. They’re adorable.”

“They’re flying tacos through space!”

“Don’t be a hater.”

He lifted his hands. “Not hating. It’s totally ugly, but it made me smile every time I saw you wear it, so it gets a win in my book.”

Adam baffled me, and the more time I spent with him, the more he surprised me. He was such a different guy than anyone I’d ever met. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand him. He was a conundrum. An intriguing, sexy, sometimes-annoying-but-still-very-likable mystery.

Feeling me watching him, he put down the shirt and returned my stare. His gaze was always so direct. There was no question in his eyes this time, or any demand for some kind of answer as to why I couldn’t look away. It was as if he knew I was confused and was just letting me take my time to try and figure him out. But he couldn’t simply let me do it the easy way and tactfully pretend he didn’t notice the staring. No. Not the Coffee Man. He had to make me squirm.

Never get in a staring contest with Adam Koepp. You. Will. Lose.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I returned to the bin in front of me and dug past the cat shirts for the pile of lacy lingerie I’d hidden in the bottom of the bucket. I couldn’t decide if I was embarrassed or having fun with the fact that Adam was there to witness all my dirtiest secrets. Yeah, it sucked to have to admit to him that the only thing Owen and I had was a physical relationship, but at the same time, part of me hoped it might be turning the sexy cider supplier on.

“He couldn’t have completely hated the way I looked,” I said, holding up one of my prettier pieces, “because he often brought me something new to wear. He loved making me model for him.”

I thought back to the night he’d brought me the blue silk nightie in my hands. It had been the fourth piece of lingerie he’d brought me, and he demanded I put on a fashion show for him. I wore all of the outfits that night. He told me how beautiful I’d looked in each one, and I’d believed him. I
felt
beautiful in them.

The next day I asked him to go to the mall with me to help me pick some clothes that would look good on me since he had such excellent taste. He’d said no, claiming we couldn’t be seen in public together because our relationship was a secret. He fed me crap about Avery and Grayson not understanding. I wasn’t stupid enough to buy it, but I told myself that in time he’d love me enough to be proud of me.

Bitterness burned me from the inside out. Silently, I got to my feet and snatched the jewelry box off the dresser. I thrust it at Adam before I could change my mind. At his startled, confused look, I said, “You’re right. The sooner I get Owen out of my head, the better.”

I shook the box when Adam didn’t reach for it. “Take them. I don’t want them.”

Adam reluctantly took the box. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll sell them for you. You can put the money in your college fund or something.”

Watching Adam slip the small box into his pants pocket hurt. It was such a stupid thing to be upset over, because I knew Owen was bad for me. I knew I needed to get over him. But without him, I’d be alone again. And being on my own was scary and lonely.

My eyes began to burn, so I started shoving all the lingerie deep into the garbage bag, using a little more force than was necessary. I was so busy wrestling with my inner demons that Adam startled me when he placed his hand on top of mine. He met my gaze with a sad but encouraging smile. “I know it’s hard right now, but you’ll feel better in the long run. Promise.”

I clung to that promise. I couldn’t see the hope, but I was beginning to trust Adam, and I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. If he said it would get better, then it would.

He gazed at me a long moment, contemplating something, and then suddenly pulled the large gray hoodie he was wearing over his head. I wanted to ask him why he was getting undressed for me, but there was something about the way he stared down at the hoodie he now held in his lap that made me unable to tease him.

“This sweatshirt was my father’s,” he said quietly. “He split when I was little, and my mom went through the entire house and trashed everything that belonged to him. I found this sweatshirt under the couch about a week later, and I kept it. I hid it from my mom for years, afraid she’d take it from me if she found it. It’s the only thing of his I still have.”

Adam’s eyes were fixed on his father’s hoodie. Though I didn’t know why he was telling me such a personal story, I now understood the distant, sad, wistful look on his face. My heart broke for him.