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  He pulled his brow together and looked down. “Ah, crap,” he said through a groan, shaking his head as his laughter combined with hers.

  On the front of his white apron was the outline of a cartoon woman’s body, her obscenely large breasts bursting out of a tiny bikini top and her thighs swelling out of an equally skimpy bottom. Adam looked up sheepishly as he held his hands over his cartoon breasts, attempting to hide them, which only made Lauren laugh harder.

  “Switch with me,” he said.

  “Not on your life,” Lauren said through her laughter. “Besides, it looks good on you. Who would have thought you were so voluptuous under those scrubs?”

  Adam lifted his eyebrows. “How long have you been thinking about what’s under my scrubs?” he challenged.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, now that we are all properly attired, let’s begin!” the teacher said. “If you’ll have a look at the folder on the right side of your station…” Adam leaned around Lauren to grab the folder, bringing his chest flush with her back.

  “Saved by the bell,” he whispered in her ear, and she felt a faint shiver run down her spine that was as pleasant as it was unexpected.

  She should have known better by now; no matter how many times she thought she had him trumped, he always seemed to end up with the upper hand.

  And she liked it. A lot.

  Adam opened the folder and took out the papers inside, spreading them out on the counter and following along as the teacher went over the menu for the evening. Or rather, their assignment. Smoked salmon and crème fraiche bruschetta for an appetizer, filet mignon with a red wine mushroom sauce over sautéed spinach and baby carrots for the main course, and a cinnamon peach crumble with vanilla ice cream for dessert.

  “Jesus,” he mumbled, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him.

  “A little out of your element?” Lauren asked, feeling a bit nervous herself as she scanned the recipe.

  “There’s a pizza place right down the road,” he said, putting the paper down and looking up at the teacher. “If this takes a turn for the worse, we hit it up on the way home.”

  “Deal,” Lauren laughed, turning to look at the teacher as she held up a knife and explained the proper way to dice a tomato.

  About an hour and a half later, they were seated in the adjacent room, which was set up to look like a makeshift restaurant, complete with linens and good silverware and candlelight. The couples all sat, waiting to be served the meals they had just prepared for themselves.

  “I’m telling you, you’ve found your calling,” Lauren said as Adam poured them each a glass of wine.

  “Don’t get smart,” he said, glancing up at her with a smirk as he placed the bottle back on the table.

  “I’m not! I thought you were great in there. Well, except for the whole carrot thing.”

  Adam laughed, shaking his head. He had started to chop them, not realizing the recipe called for them to be served whole, and each time he brought the knife down on the raw carrots, tiny pieces would shoot off the cutting board in different directions, like rogue missiles, hitting Lauren and at times the couple in front of them. Finally, the teacher came over and laid a placating hand on his wrist, telling him it was unnecessary for the recipe, and Lauren had to focus extremely hard on sautéing the spinach to keep from laughing.

  “Oh, and the onion thing,” Lauren added, smirking before she took a delicate sip of wine.

  “You know, a lesser man’s ego would be bruised by all these backhanded compliments.”

  “Good thing you’re not a lesser man, then.”

  Adam smiled, lifting his glass to hers, and she clinked it softly. “And besides,” he said, “you were the one who assigned me the onions to chop. You could have mentioned it’s a step below getting maced.”

  Lauren laughed. “Why do you think I passed the job to you?”

  Adam narrowed his eyes at her. “Cruel.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

  He raised his brow before he smiled. “Fair enough,” he said as a server brought their appetizers to the table.

  “Well,” Lauren said once the plates were in front of them. “Ready?”

  “If you are,” Adam said, lifting his fork.

  Lauren nodded, and they both cut a small piece of the smoked salmon and crème fraiche bruschetta, bringing it to their lips. After chewing in silence for a second, Adam brought the back of his hand to his mouth. “Wow,” he said around his mouthful of food. “That’s…”

  “Incredible,” Lauren finished for him, taking another forkful. “Do you think this is actually the one we made, or are they taking pity on us and serving us the real deal?”

  “If this is them taking pity on us, I’ll gladly accept it. Damn,” he added after taking another bite. “We’re good. We’re actually good. I’m impressed with us.”

  “Agreed,” she laughed, dabbing her mouth with the napkin.

  Adam took a sip of wine. “So,” he finally said. “Can I ask what made you want to be a child psychologist?”

  Lauren lifted her wine, taking a sip, which gave her a few extra seconds to formulate her answer. She went with partial truth.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just seen a lot of kids who don’t have the coping strategies for issues they’re encountering at young ages, whether it’s emotional or developmental. And I know that having those strategies, having an outlet, makes all the difference. In how they turn out, I mean. And I just…I want to do more than be a teacher for kids like that.” She looked up to find him watching her intently. “I know…that sounds so…”

  “Admirable? Humane? Commendable?”

  Lauren felt her cheeks get hot. “I was going to say clichéd.”

  Adam shook his head. “Not at all,” he said softly.

  She smiled then, dropping her eyes for a moment. “What about you?” she asked, lifting her fork again. “What made you want to be a chiropractor?”

  He shrugged. “I broke my neck.”

  Lauren froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, her eyes growing wide. “You broke your neck?”

  He nodded, taking the last bite of his appetizer before he wiped his mouth.

  “Oh my God,” Lauren said. “When? How?”

  “My senior year of high school. I had just landed a baseball scholarship to the University of Texas the week before it happened. We were playing the last game of our season. I was on second, and the guy up at bat hit a hard grounder down the left side. The third baseman squatted down to field it just as I slid headfirst into third, and boom.” He crashed his two fists together in front of him. “My head, his knee.”

  Lauren cringed, shaking her head. “Jesus.”

  “Oh, it sucked.”

  “How are you…How can you…?”

  “I got lucky. Really, really lucky. And on top of that, the rehab facility I was in was amazing. And that’s when I knew it was what I wanted to do.”

  “Wow,” Lauren said. “So, how long were you in rehab?”

  The server who had just arrived to bring them the main course cast a look between them before he awkwardly cleared his throat and excused himself, and Adam laughed.

  “Great. When they come and confiscate our wine, it’s going to be your fault.”

  Lauren covered her face with her hands and laughed, and Adam leaned over the table, removing her hands. “A month,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles and lighting the warmth in her belly again. “And then another three months as an outpatient,” he said, finally releasing her hand to lift his utensils. “Ready?”

  She looked him in the eyes and nodded. “I think so,” she said softly, and whether he realized it or not, she was referencing more than tasting the meal.

  The main course was fantastic, and the dessert made Lauren moan, much to her embarrassment and Adam’s amusement. Their conversation was effortless, and interesting, and funny, and Lauren couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. The entire date couldn’t h
ave gone more perfectly.

  But despite that, as Adam walked her up to her door, she felt the familiar trepidation building low in her stomach, creeping its way into her chest.

  They stopped before her door, and Lauren turned to him, smiling softly. “Thank you so much. I had an amazing time.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, looking down at her, and she could tell by the way his eyes flickered back and forth between hers that he was assessing her.

  Lauren glanced down, biting her lower lip before she looked back up at him. She wanted to kiss him, she did. She just wished—

  He leaned down then, stopping her thoughts as he pressed his lips to hers, and she gasped against his mouth. He immediately stilled, giving her the option to pull away, but after a stunned second she sighed, leaning into him as she deepened the kiss, temporarily forgetting her anxiety and even her name as their lips began moving together.

  His mouth was amazing; tender, soft, and playful, sending little bolts of electricity to all the right places in her body.

  She had no idea how long they’d been kissing—it could have been minutes or days, she was so lost in the feeling he was giving her—before she finally came back to reality. Her body was completely flush with his; one of his hands was in her hair, the other on her hip, and she had both of her hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

  She pulled back slightly, releasing a trembling breath, and he dropped his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, smiling.

  “Adam,” she breathed.

  “Mm?”

  She exhaled shakily. “I’m not going to invite you upstairs.”

  He kept his forehead pressed against hers, but he smiled softly. “I wouldn’t have come up even if you did,” he whispered, his lips ghosting hers on every word.

  Her mouth parted softly, and she found herself lifting her chin, trying to increase the pressure of his lips on her own, but he pulled back slightly, brushing the hair away from her face. “You’re something different, Lauren. I’m not gonna rush this.”

  He leaned down again, pressing his lips to hers one more time before he took a step back. “I’ll call you tomorrow?” he said.

  Lauren nodded, unable to speak, and he smiled his trademark grin. “Good night,” he said, kissing her hand before he turned to walk down the pathway toward his car.

  Lauren watched him go for a second before she turned toward her door and unlocked it in a complete stupor.

  She undressed, put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed, completely on autopilot.

  But as soon as she was lying in the comfort of her bed, all her faculties returned to her at once, and she couldn’t help but replay the entire night in her mind over and over. She smiled to herself, curling the blanket into her chest when it tingled with the memory of the way he made her laugh, the way he looked at her.

  The way his mouth felt on hers.

  There were only a handful of memories Lauren had done this with; committing it to her mind, playing it on repeat like a favorite movie, pulling it from her subconscious whenever she needed to smile, or laugh, or sigh.

  And before this night, all those memories had belonged to Michael.

  December 2001

  Miserable did not even come close to describing how Lauren was feeling. She laid in her bed, her comforter and an extra quilt tucked up around her chin and a tissue crammed in each nostril. A sudden flash of heat overcame her, and she sat up and kicked off her covers with an angry huff, which quickly turned into a violent coughing fit.

  “God,” she groaned, her voice gravelly as she scooped her matted hair into a makeshift ponytail just to get it off her neck.

  “Damn, Red. You look like shit.”

  Lauren’s eyes flashed to her bedroom doorway; through her coughing, she hadn’t even heard anyone come up the stairs.

  “Gee thanks,” she said, pulling the tissues out of her nose as discreetly as she could. She was lucid enough to realize she should have been humiliated at being seen in this condition, especially by Michael, but truth be told, she was too sick to even pretend to care. “Why are you here?” she croaked. “You should be at the dance.”

  “I already told you, I don’t do school dances,” he said, taking off his jacket and throwing it haphazardly over the papasan chair in the corner of her room. “Besides, I can’t go. Anyone who’s been suspended out of school more than three times this year isn’t allowed.”

  Lauren used a crumpled tissue to wipe her nose. “So is that why you behave the way you do? So you won’t have to attend school functions?”

  Michael smiled. “Yeah, you got me. Every move I make comes down to avoiding some cheesy-ass school dance.”

  Lauren shook her head. “Idiot,” she laughed under her breath as she tossed the crumpled tissue into the trash bin near her bed.

  “You sound like a phone sex operator with your voice like that.”

  “God, shut up,” Lauren groaned, covering her face with her hands and dropping back onto her pillows.

  “I’m serious,” Michael said, leaning against her dresser and folding his arms. “You should try to make a couple of extra bucks for yourself while it lasts. Might as well, since you’re stuck here in bed anyway. If you’ll give me a cut, I’ll give you the numbers of some guys that would stay on the phone for hours. We’ll bleed them dry.”

  “Please just shut up,” she said through her hands.

  “Mmm. Just like that, baby. Keep talking,” Michael said throatily, and Lauren pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh but failing.

  “Honey?”

  Lauren dropped her hands from her face and turned toward her bedroom doorway. “Hi Dad.”

  “You doing okay?” he asked, sending a quick glance in Michael’s direction.

  “I’m hanging in there,” she said as she sat up.

  Her father nodded, lingering in the doorway for a second. “Do you need more tissues?”

  “No, I’m good, Dad, thanks.”

  He nodded again, looking around the room, his eyes landing on Michael one last time before he turned. When they finally heard the muffled sounds of him trudging down the stairs, Michael turned to look at her. His eyes dropped to the bed, taking in the three boxes of tissues that surrounded Lauren.

  “More tissues?” Michael deadpanned, lifting his eyes to Lauren’s face.

  Lauren shrugged, fluffing her pillow up against the headboard before she leaned back against it. “That was just him making sure the door was open.”

  “Well shit, the man should give me a little credit, don’t you think? You’re a walking science experiment right now. As if I’d actually touch you.”

  Lauren grabbed the pillow next to her and threw it half-heartedly at him, missing by several feet. “Did you come here to make me more miserable than I already am?”

  Michael laughed, walking toward his jacket on the other side of the room. “Relax. It’s just the flu. You’ll feel better soon.”

  “It’s not just that,” Lauren mumbled through a pout as she grabbed a fresh tissue from one of the boxes.

  Michael stopped, giving her an amused look. “Oh come on. Did you really want to go to some winter formal?”

  Lauren glanced up at him before blowing her nose. The truth was, she did.

  But all her visions were of being at the formal with him.

  And if he wasn’t going, she really didn’t care about going either way. But there was no way she was giving that away.”

  “Not really, I guess,” she said with a pathetic shrug.

  “Good,” he said, continuing toward his jacket, and he half-lifted it off the chair, digging in one of the pockets. “I got you something,” he said, turning and tossing a plastic bag on the bed.

  Lauren leaned over to grab the bag from the foot of the bed. As soon as she pulled out what was inside, she gasped, holding it to her chest.

  It was a DVD of the movie Dirty Dancing.

  “Oh my God, you remembered!” she squealed, although it came out more
like a grating rasp. Jenn had borrowed her copy of the movie last summer and lost it, and Lauren had complained about it to Michael one day when she’d been in the mood to watch it.

  “I only remembered because I didn’t understand how someone so smart could love something so stupid.”

  She dropped her hands to the bed, still clasping the DVD, her expression defensive. “Have you ever even seen it?”

  “I don’t need to see it to know that it’s crap.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s a classic. It’s practically a rite of passage!” Lauren expounded, and he smirked, shaking his head. “Here, put it in,” she added, holding the DVD out to him.

  “No way.”

  “Come on,” she said, thrusting the movie at him again.

  “You’ve lost your goddamn mind if you think I’m watching that.”

  Lauren dropped her hand to the bed, tilting her head at him. “Please?” she said softly, and for a brief second, something that resembled sympathy flickered behind the contempt in his expression. “It will make me feel better. Just stay and watch it with me for a little while. You don’t have to watch the whole thing.”

  Michael stared at her for a second. “Did you practice that whole pathetic thing in the mirror before I got here?”

  The corners of Lauren’s mouth twitched, and he exhaled heavily. “Fine,” he said, pushing off the dresser and extending his hand.

  Lauren handed it to him, not allowing herself to fully gloat until his back was to her and he was putting the movie into the machine.

  He hit play and walked back to the foot of the bed, sitting down and folding his arms.

  The lyrics to “Be My Baby” filled the room as the opening credits played in front of black and white slow-motion clips of Kellerman’s dance instructors dirty dancing in the clubhouse.

  “Well shit,” Michael said after a minute. He turned toward her, quirking his brow. “Whatcha got me watching here, Red?”

  Lauren shook her head as he added, “You know, if our school dances looked like this, I might go.”