To Hate Adam Connor

Lucy

“I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Can you two please stop apologizing? I told you it’s okay. Jesus, you’re leaving me in a palace; I’m pretty sure I’ll manage to survive without you two,” I assured Olive for the tenth time as I sat cross-legged in the middle of their bed.

Olive gave me an apologizing look and glanced back at Jason while she continued to throw random clothes into a big suitcase. “Flying to London for the promotion stuff wasn’t on the schedule for at least another week. Why did they switch the timeline at the last minute like this?”

So…remember how I mentioned my talented friend writing a book that made the bestseller lists in no time? Well, that book, Soul Ache, also got made into a movie. The leading actor? Jason Thorn, of course. How did you think they met again after so many years? She wrote a goddamned book inspired by him and voila! She got the dream guy with her dream job.

“You don’t have to hurry, Olive,” Jason said as he captured Olive’s hand and dropped a kiss on her palm. “We still have two hours until they pick us up.”

“You think two hours is enough time to decide what to take with you for a weeklong trip? They’ll follow us everywhere; I don’t want them to write a whole damn article about how messy I look next to you and that maybe I should get my nose out of my books if I don’t want to lose you.”

“They already wrote that, Olive,” I chimed in, just to be helpful.

“That’s exactly my point!” she exclaimed as she started taking clothes back out of her suitcase. “I don’t want to read that again.”

Jason grabbed her attention as he zipped up his own small suitcase, which he’d packed in ten minutes. “I love it when you look messy. It reminds me of how good you look after I love you a little.”

“Ah,” I groaned, trying to hide my smile and doing a piss poor job of it. “Your kid is in the room. Gross.”

He pressed his lips against Olive’s hair, and I noticed how her body relaxed a little. “But,” he continued, “I think I’m gonna wait for you in the living room. I need to call Tom anyway.”

Tom was his agent, and even though he probably did need to call him, I would’ve bet a thousand dollars he was more interested in fleeing the scene than discussing his potential next project with his agent.

“Chicken shit,” I murmured; he gave me a quick wink before exiting the room.

“Help?” Olive asked, looking at me hopefully.

“Oh, I guess I can help,” I relented. “But you’re not taking that black dress with you. You’re not going to a funeral. This is your movie, more than it is his, actually. And this is not the premiere, right?” I crawled off the bed and headed toward her gigantic closet. Olive was right behind me.

“It is still happening, the premiere in London, I mean, but it is after the LA and New York premieres. This London trip is just interviews and a few talk shows.”

“You’re doing the shows too?”

She shook her head. “As much as Megan would’ve loved that, I said no to live shows. We’ll do a few of the recorded interviews together, but that’s it. I don’t want to be seen that much. That’s his job, and that’s all the excitement I can handle anyway.”

“Well, okay. Then you definitely don’t need this floor-length dress,” I said, fishing out another black dress she wouldn’t need at all.

Half an hour later we emerged from her bedroom with enough clothes packed to hold her over for at least a month.

“The car is here,” Jason said as soon he saw us wheeling two suitcases toward the front door.

“Already?” Olive and I asked at the same time.

“Yes,” Jason said, reaching to take the suitcase out of Olive’s hand. “There was a change in the schedule.”

“Oh, I’m gonna miss you.” She gave me a tight hug and followed Jason outside. “I’m really sorry for leaving you like this. I swear as soon as I’m back—”

“You’ll make it up to me,” I said, finishing her sentence before she could get into another long-winded apology. “It’s only a week, Olive. Pray for me while you’re over there so I can find a job by the time you guys come back.”

“About that,” she murmured as she sat down on the bench right outside their door to put on her shoes. “I sent you an email with a few contact numbers attached to it. While we are on our way to the airport I’ll forward you some emails too.”

“And what do you want me to do with those emails again?”

“Not much. I want you to play my agent.”

Done with her shoes, she got up and stood in front of me.

“Play your agent?” I asked, confused.

“Look, you don’t want to be an accountant. There. I said it. You might be good with numbers, but that’s not your calling. And before you say no—”

“Olive?” Jason called out, holding the passenger door open for his wife. Olive looked over her shoulder. “We have to leave. Can you call Lucy on the way to the airport?”

“I’m coming, just give me a second.”

When she turned back to look at me, I had a frown on my face. “Olive—”

“I’m not doing it for you, Lucy. I’m asking for your help. You flaked on me when I needed to talk to the movie studio the first time, so you can’t say no to this too. I talked to a good number of agents, and we don’t see eye to eye. I doubt they even read my book. You inhaled every line of that book; if someone has to sell it, I want it to be you. And before you say it, if I start negotiating for future book and audiobook deals, I won’t have a single minute to write. You’ll help your friend out, right? ’Cause you’re the bestest of the best friends, right?” She lifted her eyebrows, waiting on an answer from me.

“Olive, I have a business major. I know nothing about being a literary agent.”

She started to back away from me and lifted her hands up. “Just add up some numbers then multiply them, do whatever the hell you do with numbers, and find out which deal is better for me. I have to make a decision before I’m done writing.”

“I don’t think the numbers should be your only worry, Olive,” I yelled after her as she headed toward the black car. “What are they offering you in terms of marketing? Are they planning something you couldn’t do yourself if you were to self-publish again?”

Reaching Jason’s side, she yelled back, “See? You already know the right questions to ask. Just talk to them, okay? I’ll call you when we land.” With those last words, she hopped into the car.

“I don’t like your wife very much right now,” I grumbled loudly enough so Jason could hear. His eyes found mine, and he smiled.

He glanced into the car then looked back at me with a bigger smile on his lips. “She says she loves you, too.”

I rolled my eyes and waved at Jason, ready to get back inside.

“Lucy?” Jason called out.

“Yes?” I answered, peeking behind the door.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Call Tom if you need anything at all.”

“Aw, you love me too.” I pressed my hands against my heart and sighed, dramatically. “I knew you secretly wanted to adopt me. I’m the daughter you never knew you wanted, aren’t I?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

Jason just shook his head before hopping in next to Olive.

***

The days following Olive’s departure to London passed as you would expect them to: fairly uneventfully.

The number of job interviews I’d had: two.

The number of phone calls I’d gotten from Olive: countless.

The number of phone calls I’d gotten from my grandma, Catherine: three.

And let me tell you, that was three phone calls more than I wanted. As much as I wished I could, I couldn’t avoid her for eternity, but I did put off talking to her as much as I could.

And, umm…the number of ladder climbs I’d done in the first few days after Olive left…well…that would be eight. By day three, I’d climbed that ladder a total of eight times. No eye rolling, please. What would you have done? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be curious. There is no fucking way you’d shrug and say whatever, I’ll just pretend he doesn’t exist—not if the next-door neighbor was Adam Connor.

Anyway. I didn’t see the guy until the fourth day anyway, so you can hold off on the judging.

I had just ventured outside, a pretty coffee mug in one hand and a printed copy of one of the offers Olive had gotten from one of the big five publishers in the other when I heard the unmistakable sound of a child’s giggle. Obviously, I had to drop everything and go investigate, because that’s what good housesitters do. What if it wasn’t a kid’s giggle but thieves I’d heard? Things like that totally happen all the time, and since I’m a good friend, I looked into it. Obviously my only intention was to protect my best friend’s house.

I tried to be as quiet as possible when I neared the wall and started climbing up. Raising my head just enough so I could see what was going on on the other side, I spotted my prey just stepping out into the backyard.

“Holy mother of…”

Trying not to lose my balance, I reached for my phone—which I had of course concealed in my bra—found Olive’s name, and hit dial.

“Hello?”

“I’m in love,” I admitted in a rush.

“That was quick. I thought you were never saying those words to another man again.”

“This one can have anything and everything he wants from me.”

“Who’s the lucky guy? And did you have to find him when I wasn’t there to approve?”

I ignored her question and instead said, “I have a question for Jason. Could you please be so kind as to relay it to him?”

In an amused tone, she said, “I’ll try. Hit me.”

“Where do they breed these Hollywood people? Like, is there a farm we can visit to pick out the ones we like best? I would just like to have a look-see. If there is a place like that and you’ve been keeping it from me…I’m not sure I can be your friend anymore.”

Olive laughed. “I’m not aware of its existence, but I’ll ask for you. Did you have someone in mind?”

“Yes, actually. How nice of you to ask, my beautiful and smart friend. And before you get mad at me, just look at this,” I said before quickly taking a shot of what was happening in front of my eyes.

“What? What did you do, Lucy?”

“Nothing. Have a little faith in your friend. Just sent you a pic. Open it.”

“Okay. Give me a sec.”

I lowered the phone and kept my eyes on the duo in front of me. Oh, you wanna know what I was seeing, too?

I was looking at a half-naked Adam Connor. He had these loose shorts on that sat dangerously low, and he was showing me those impressive arm and shoulder muscles as he did pushups with a giggling kid sitting on his back. It was a private show just for me.

How considerate of him, I know.

“I might’ve just drooled a little bit. My God, those arms,” I groaned.

“What are you even talking about?” Olive asked. “I’m trying to open the picture—shit.”

“I zoomed in on those muscles. You can thank me later.”

“Lucy…” She sighed.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be up there.”

“Not without you, you mean.”

There was a short silence, then she said, “Yes, and that is only because best friends don’t let you do stupid things alone.”

“Riiiight. I’ll let you stick with that.”

The kid hopped off his back and screamed, “You did it, Daddy!” He clapped his hands excitedly. His daddy had definitely done something to my panties, all right. Adam Connor, that mountain of a man, got up off the ground and smiled down at his kid, ruffling his hair. The kid jumped up and they high-fived, then he said something to his hot-as-fuck dad and ran inside. Leaning down, Adam grabbed a towel from one of the lounge chairs and started wiping off the sweat from his chest and abs.

“Dear Lord, I’m done for,” I whispered into the phone.

“What’s he doing? Tell me,” Olive whispered back.

“I wanna lick him up, Olive. Like really bad. I wanna peel him like a banana and…”

“Tell me!”

“Jesus, don’t yell,” I said quietly before I started to describe what was going on just next to her backyard. “His son ran inside, but he is wiping off his abs with a towel right now. He’s so sweaty. Olive…he has a V! He has a damn near perfect V.”

“Is there a different kind?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely. Some just look wrong. But his…my green Olive, those shoulders…I think I’ve died and just stepped into heaven. Even his hair is fuckable. Does that even make sense? Not a huge fan of blonds, but his dark honey blond hair is doing it for me. It’s almost brown anyway. Jesus, I wanna get under him and hold on to those shoulders and just let him pound—”

“Lucy, calm down and don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Olive warned, but it was too late.

“I have to,” I said, whining a little. “I have to say it so it can come true. Pound me. I wanna hold on and just let him pound me.”

“You’re…I don’t even know what you are,” she said, laughing.

“And there is a bulge, Olive.” I groaned quietly as Adam faced me and started stretching his arms with his eyes closed and his head thrown back. “Sweet Jesus, even his throat is sexy. And there is a big bulge, Olive.”

“Is he hard?”

“No—hell, I don’t know, but it couldn’t possibly be that big when he is soft.”

Oh, dear Lord, please don’t let him have big balls and a small dick…

I wondered if I would get arrested if I just hopped over the wall, ran to his side while his eyes were closed, and pulled down his shorts. They wouldn’t count a case of extreme curiosity as a crime, right? Hell, maybe what he was packing in there would be worth the time I’d spend behind bars, daydreaming about his cock.

His kid came running outside, and I shook my head to clear my mind. The kid was wearing the exact same shorts his dad was wearing. The only addition was a white shirt, probably to protect him from the unexpected chill. Never losing the big smile on his face, he handed his fuck-able daddy a water bottle, and I watched him gulp it down in one chug.

I could’ve used some cold water myself, but was anyone thinking about me? Nope.

Then I watched Adam slowly lower himself down again, this time on his perfectly bite-able ass.

“Lucy? You still there?”

“Yeah. Awww, look at that.”

“What?”

“He is doing sit-ups now and the kid is hugging his knees with his little arms and counting.”

“Awww. Picture. Picture.”

“Okay, hold on.”

I took another photo and sent it.

“There is definitely a bulge,” I added as I tried to shift on my feet to get a better look. “He is definitely hung.”

“His kid is there, Lucy.”

“And? How do you think he created that kid? Do we have to talk about where babies come from again?”

Olive laughed in my ear, and I smiled, picturing her shaking her head at me.

“Oh, shoot. Jason is coming up; I have to go.”

“Up? Where are you?”

“In bed. There were some fans camped out in front of the hotel when we came back from a late dinner, and he went down to sign a few things for them so they wouldn’t spend the night out there.”

“Got it. Well I’ll let you go then, have fun with the crazy fans.”

“You too. Oh, he is here. I’m hanging up now. Get down from there.”

And the line went dead.

I spent a few more minutes watching the perfection that was a dad and his son spending time together, then reluctantly got down and went inside to work on those offers some more.

After that encounter, I spent most of my time up there, checking things out. Was I proud of myself? Eh, maybe not so much. But do you know what’s hotter than watching Adam Connor work out in his backyard every day? Watching him spend time with his son. Instant reason to jump his bones. Instant. He was practically dangling himself in front of me, daring me.

Certainly it wasn’t my fault that I was a weak human being, and as long as I didn’t hurt anyone, it couldn’t be that wrong, could it?

So it was my last day alone, and I was up on my perch again, watching my temporary neighbors as discreetly as I could as Adam jumped into the pool. The little version of him sat on one of the lounge chairs playing with his iPad, kicking his little legs every now and then. Holding on to the ladder, I rested my chin on the wall and stayed vigilant. Repeating the process every day for the rest of the week.

Because you never know, right?