Adam nodded and signaled to the waiter for the bill.
As they made their way toward the office, someone called out, “Adam!”
Jake and Adam stopped and turned. Jake suppressed another sigh when he saw who it was. George, the young intern who’d been making eyes at Adam all week.
“Hey,” George said, smiling at Adam from under his eyelashes. “I was wondering if you were free tonight—”
“He’s not,” Jake cut him off when he saw that Adam was starting to nod. “Later, kid,” he said with a fake smile, grabbing Adam’s arm and all but dragging him toward the office.
Except Adam wasn’t an easy man to manhandle. He freed his arm from Jake’s grip and shot him an annoyed look. “I’m not?”
Jake scowled. “That kid is half in love with you, man! You would’ve broken his heart.”
“I’m not a monster or something.”
Jake scoffed. “Of course not. You would’ve just fucked him and then kicked him out.”
Adam pressed his lips together. “Maybe I wanted him.”
“Right. You aren’t even into blonds.”
Adam pulled a cigarette out and lit it. Jake grimaced and told himself Adam was a grown man. If he wanted to die from lung cancer, it was his own fucking business. It was just one of the many bad habits Adam had picked up in the last year.
Adam took a long drag and let the smoke out slowly. “Maybe now I like them. People change.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. They certainly did.
“What?” Adam said, without looking at him.
“You said you were over him,” Jake said.
Adam turned his head and looked him in the eye. There was no emotion whatsoever in his dark eyes. “Over who?”
Jake shook his head. Right.
Adam took another drag and glanced at his watch. “We should head back,” he said and did just that.
Sighing, Jake followed him.
CHAPTER 27
Six hours later, as Adam let himself inside his flat, he wondered if he should have brought the little blond intern home after all, regardless of what Jake had said.
Dropping his briefcase on the floor, Adam sighed in annoyance. He wished Jake would finally get off his back. First Jake had nagged him constantly, trying to convince him to go out and get laid, and when Adam had done just that, Jake had started nagging him that he was doing it too often. It was fucking rich, considering that Adam had gotten laid all those months ago just to get Jake off his back, because apparently he needed to hook up with someone to prove that he was fine.
He was fine. His word should have been enough. He was fine back then and he was more than fine now. It had been a year. He was fine. It pissed him off that Jake kept implying that he still wasn’t over Harry. Of course he was over Harry.
He barely even remembered the color of Harry’s eyes. Or the way Harry smiled happily when he was delighted or excited about something. Or the way Harry curled into him, like a flower toward the sun.
Clenching his jaw, Adam loosened his tie. Harry had been a lying little shit who’d fucked him up so badly that it had taken him months to recover. He’d nearly lost his job over Harry. His mother had had to come to London and yell at him for being one depressed fuck before he finally got a grip.
It had been a year. A long, shitty year but a year that had changed him a great deal. Apparently time did heal all wounds. The pain and the lovesickness and the feeling of betrayal had long disappeared, leaving only cold rage and nothing else.
Adam removed his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. He rolled his neck from side to side, trying to ease some of his tension. He was unzipping his fly when a tentative knock broke the silence in the flat.
Adam frowned and headed to the door.
He turned the lock, pushed the door open—and went very still.
Because in front of him stood Harry, his violet eyes wide and wary and hungry at the same time.
Something in him lurched.
He did forget the exact color of his eyes.
“Hello,” Harry said.
How fucking dare he.
Adam shut the door in his face.
He leaned his forehead against it, trying to calm down. His entire body was shaking—with rage and something else—and he couldn’t fucking think.
Harry was there. Harry was there.
Adam couldn’t remember how many months he’d hoped that Harry would come back. Three? Four?
And now, a fucking year later, the little shit dared come back, looking all pretty and doe-like, and he expected Adam to... to do what, exactly?
What the fuck did he want?
Setting his jaw, Adam yanked the door open again.
Harry still stood on the other side, looking pale and dejected. It didn’t seem he’d moved an inch.
“What do you want?” Adam said harshly, trying not to look Harry in the eye. It pissed him off that those eyes still had so much power over him, despite everything.