The Thousand Words We Spoke (A Novella)

Chapter Two

Adam removed his baseball cap and tossed it on one of his suitcases after he sat up. When he'd left, he had a sufficient set of hair. Now it was buzzed short, and the brown was sprinkled with gray. "Hey." His tone was tired, but just as smooth as she recalled. It had forever reminded her of a jazz song playing lightly in the background, relieving her nerves. "Look at you."

Mia looked down at her outfit, feeling ridiculous. Still, a black sequin dress was better to be encountered in than pale blue pajamas with rubber duckies on them and a face mask on; which is what she would have been wearing if she were home when he'd showed up. "Friend's birthday party," she explained.

"No," he said, "I mean, look at you. You're all grown up, and I completely missed it." He was a mix of delight and melancholy in that moment.

Mia waved the remark off. "You didn't miss that much."

Except for every momentous occasion in her life, a comment Mia didn't dare say out loud. He'd been there when she first drove a car, standing by the side of the road listening to her father scream before finally jumping out, allowing Adam to take his place.

He'd been there for her first kiss, one that left her weeping in his arms because it was dreadful and mediocre and the boy who'd given it to her hadn't requested to kiss her. Truth was, she was crying because she always imagined Adam would be her first kiss. She hoped maybe, just maybe, if she waited until she was eighteen and asked him, he would concede. Now that she looked back, Mia knew there was no way in hell he would have. Eighteen years older than her, he only looked at her as someone he had to care for and as a friend, seemingly viewing her as the child he never had.

But everything after that, every life changing moment, he wasn't there. He'd been by her side taking pictures of all the occasions, vast and minor, capturing her in a manner no one else could see.

Then nothing.

Every moment after were just vacant memories, vanished in time because he wasn't there to capture them. The images her parents had taken were all staged, neglecting to show the moment for what it truly was and failing to capture the emotions she truly felt.

"Don't brush it off, Mia," Adam spoke as he boosted himself up the wall of her hallway. "Your eyes never could lie to me and you know it. You hated it as much as I did that I wasn't there."

"Not hated, just disappointed. Besides, you were always with me, even if you weren't there."

Any sketch of melancholy in his pale blue-green eyes washed aside, and he gave her that delicate, barely a smile she treasured. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome for that." Mia finally looked him up and down, noting that all his weight was against the wall, scarcely able to stand on his own two feet. She also took in the sight of his many bags.

If he'd checked in to a hotel, he wouldn't have brought his bags. If he went to see his parents first, being three hours away, he would have only had a single bag with him. "Did you just get into the states?"

"About two hours ago," Adam confirmed, wiping the tired away from his face once again. "Had to see my best girl first. Guess I should have realized you'd probably be out having fun on a Saturday."

Mia wouldn't call her evening fun; more like an obligation. "My friend Zoey nicknamed me 'Eldie' because I act like an old woman. I'm the biggest pain in the ass to get to go out and I'm always the first one to leave."

His hand traveled from his eyes down to his chin, wiping at the stubble. "You always were a weird one."

"Thanks?" Mia shoved her apartment key into her door and turned the lock. "So are you coming in, or should I just toss a blanket and pillow out here?"

"Something tells me your couch is more comfortable than the floor. If you don't mind me crashing here, I can be out of your hair in the morning."

Mia pushed the door free and snatched one of his bags, setting it on her glass dining table along with her keys. "I've never wanted you out of my hair." She wanted him running his finger through it, caressing his lips against it, inhaling the scent of her rosemary shampoo. Another thought she'd never dare say out loud. "And I've got a guest bedroom, so no couch for you."

Adam let out a quiet chuckle as he followed her in, closing the door behind him and setting his bags on the floor. "Even better."

"So... hungry, sleepy, thirsty, dopey?"

"Hungry, yes," Adam replied. "Sleepy, beyond, but couldn't fall asleep if I tried right now. Thirsty, a little. Dopey, I guess flying for that long can make you feel a little stoned by the end. Mostly dirty."

"Guest bedroom's down the hall. Bathroom's next to it. Fresh towels are on the shelf above the toilet." Mia turned on the light in the living room before she turned around to face him. "I'll see about getting some Chinese delivered and when you get done with your shower, you can join me for my first legal drink... with you."

"But not your first drink with me," Adam reminded her.

How could she forget?

She went to a party with her boyfriend early her senior year. She caught him screwing some girl in one of the bedrooms. Her fault, apparently, for not putting out. She took a shot, then took a shot at his nose, before going outside to wait for Adam to pick her up.

When he did, he drove her around until she calmed down, then took her back home to an empty house since her parents were at some fundraiser for the weekend. He poured them both a drink and told her to never drink when angry, and to only drink with those you trust.

Mia hadn't followed either piece of advice.

"First one where you wouldn't be contributing to the delinquency of a minor."

Adam hung his head and let out a laugh that was barely audible. "So, since you aren't a minor anymore, does that mean you're too old for hugs?" he asked, holding out his arms only slightly higher than his waist.

Mia's hand swept up to her lips as she gasped. "I'm such an asshole. I can't believe I haven't even hugged you yet." She rushed over to him and into his waiting arms, wrapping hers around his torso and squeezing him with every ounce of strength she could muster.

"You're my asshole, and that's what counts," he whispered against her shoulder.

Mia breathed him in, hoping to revitalize all those familiar scents of the past. Woodwork had always been his hobby, and he used to smell of freshly chopped wood. He also enjoyed working on vintage cars, making him smell of motor oil and grease. Every now and again he would smell of cigarettes, but rarely. Mia had no clue why she expected him to smell of that, since he'd been busy making money with his photography the last five years. "You were right," she conceited, "you really need a shower. You smell like sweat and stale frustration."

"I've spent the last fourteen hours on an airplane and running from one terminal to the next. What did you expect?"

Mia shrugged against him. "Something more familiar."

He let her go and walked over to grab one of his bags from by the door. "After my shower I get a do-over."

She gave him a quick nod. "Take your shower, you filthy beast. I'll get some food ordered up."

Then he gave her that bright smile, the one that took over his face and created large creases along the sides of his mouth. Her other favorite smile, followed by the signature wink she hadn't seen in so long. "Yes, ma'am."