The Four Leaf (A Holinight Novella)

I’m pretty sure embarrassment is supposed to fly out the window when you do something like fall on your ass in front of your best friend. The one who’s also witnessed me being stuck in an air duct, eating my weight in chocolate after being stood up on a date, and sees me on FaceTime when I’m still half asleep, looking like a rag doll. But with the lingering, misplaced feelings I’ve yet to truly shake, it doesn’t. So not only is my body burning from the humiliation, but my core aches from the intense clench.

Mainly due to his smile.

Like everything else about the man, it’s sexy as sin, including the slightly larger canines, completing my Twilight fantasies. Team Jacob or Edward, it doesn’t really matter when they both can chase down their prey and tear them to shreds. Swoon.

Adrian leans down and grips me firmly by the shoulders before titling me forward. With my heart beating in my throat, I latch on to the counter and carefully hoist myself to my feet.

“Having a bit of trouble with Doris?” He gestures to the sink, threading one hand through his hair while the other disappears inside his jean pocket. The white Henley hugging his massive frame leaves nothing to the imagination, but instead, showcases the hours he spends ramming into other guys on the field.

Somehow, I feign annoyance and roll my eyes as I rip the gloves from my hands and brush invisible dust from my slacks. “I don’t know why you and Willow named this infernal thing.”

He chuckles, and I instantly wish he hadn’t. The sound is deep and gruff. “Because you have to talk to these things and be gentle with them. Something like handyman foreplay, so you loosen them up.”

I try my best not to notice the way his words make my insides tingle and shove the pliers into his solid chest. “By all means.”

Adrian’s warm hand brushes against mine as he accepts the tool with a sly smile. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Don’t try to make me feel like an ass. I literally saw you on FaceTime before your game to wish you luck.”

He throws an arm casually around one of my shoulders and side hugs me, like a decade-old friend should. Still, the pang in my chest is hard to ignore. “Because I lose any game when I don’t get to talk to you beforehand. Look, I’ll take care of Doris, and you can go work on the rest of your list. Then, we’re getting drinks, since I haven’t been home in two weeks.”

I scoff and shove his arm off playfully, like my stomach isn’t experiencing a tsunami from the massive butterfly frenzy. “Yeah, if you get that thing to go leak-free for more than three minutes, drinks are on me.”

Adrian holds out a big hand. “Yeah?”

Reluctant at his confidence, but also sure Doris is the literal worst and won’t stop leaking for anyone, I shake. “Deal.”

It’s funny how I don’t get jittery or nervous when our hands touch. Believe it or not, it’s actually calming.

“Good luck,” I mutter as I grab the few things I’ll need to finish the rest of the hall.

He smirks, pushing up his sleeves and revealing thick, tan forearms. Something about it feels dangerous as hell. “Ah, Bambi. You know anytime you wish me luck, I never fail.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” I quickly turn around, desperate to get some air not flooded with his warm scent. It’s a mix of things I’ve never been able to describe but reminds me of the Venus flytrap. Pleasant and alluring, waiting for its prey to hop in its lap.

With a dismissive wave, I hurry to the next room and continue with the myriad of things on my list, all while ignoring the damned butterflies.

Thirty minutes later, my first list is complete. My arms are killing me, and my hands are covered in black soot from one of the air vent closets, but everything is done and ready for guests. The second list can wait till my body isn’t bordering on collapse.

I trail back to room 3T, and find that no matter how much I readied myself to see Adrian, I’m never truly prepared.

He’s on his back with his shirt off. Sweat glistens across his muscles and glides down the dips and valleys of each one. They contract every time he rotates his hand to tighten the trap into place.

Heavy grunts echo in the small space and collide with my libido, weakening my knees and forcing me to lean into the threshold. The effect is frustrating as always, and I make a mental note to scroll on Tinder later to distract me.

With a dramatic sigh that does little to drown out his groans, I kick his bent knee. “I know you said foreplay, but this is a little much, Adrian.”

His laugh fills the air as he draws himself out of the cabinet. “We’ll see if you have that same condescending tone when you realize she’s fixed.”

I scoff. “Yeah, right.”

“See for yourself.” He gestures to the plumbing, but when his eyes drop over my frame, my breath stalls.

For a moment, I assume he’s assessing the mess I’m sporting from the stupid air vent, but the way his eyes darken and linger say something else entirely. His tongue peeks out, sweeping across his lips as his gaze moves upward, and by the time he meets my eyes, I’m flushed and barely pulling in air.

Then, just as quickly as everything became dense, he smiles and speaks in a casual tone that makes me feel like I’ve imagined the entire thing. “Right now, you remind me of that time you got yourself all dirty. What did I used to call you back then?”

He pauses, as if he really needs to think about it while I’m already cringing at the memory. “It was Stinky Sam.”

Adrian snaps his fingers. “That’s right. After you fell into the mud.”

“First of all, you pushed me into the mud. Second, this is dust.”

He takes a step forward, a grin planted firmly on his face. “We were wrestling, and you lost.”

“Because I lost focus. You were acting like you–” I stop myself, snapping my mouth shut. It’s enough to be reminded of the one time I tried to make a move, only to be shoved not only into the friend zone, but into actual mud as well.

He takes another step, and my pulse begins to quicken. His voice lowers. “Acting like what?”

I shake my head, forcing my chin up to meet his gaze. He knows what I’m talking about. We were eleven, and at the park, while our parents fumigated a hall. We were in the woodsy spot because the trails were boring, playing a classic game of tag. It had rained that week and there were plenty of mud puddles I was having trouble avoiding, considering I’m more on the clumsy side.

Naturally, Adrian caught me and had me pinned with nowhere to go, but still, I tried to duck away. He allowed me the brief courtesy of diving under his arms, but then snatched me around the waist and twirled me around. We ended up on the ground and began wrestling, not uncommon for us on a Tuesday. But somehow, I managed the delightfully rare scenario of ending up on top of him like Nala in the Lion King.

I yelled out my victory in time to be tossed on my back with him hovering over me like a predator about to rip their prey to shreds. But even with the thought of possibly being devoured, I never felt so alive. My heart was pounding, my nerves were on fire, and the excitement between us was palpable.

But then he ruined everything. His eyes did the thing you’d see in movies before a guy kissed the girl, and for a second–the sweetest second–my crush wasn’t one-sided.

I closed my eyes and puckered. I freaking puckered.

Luckily, Adrian has always been a nice guy, even in fifth grade, and let me down easy. He rolled to the side, and suddenly aware of what was happening, I moved too, only right into the mud. I drenched myself in both filth and humiliation that day.

He helped me up, but gave me the name Stinky Sam, permanently etching in stone that we would never be more than friends. We’ve never talked about or even passively brought it up. So I guess there’s that.

“Acting like what, Sam?” Adrian’s voice is closer now, plucking me from my thoughts and into the realization he is only a few inches from me.

His broad frame blocks the bathroom light, casting us in a dark shadow. Just like when we were kids, his lids are lowered, his face titled, as if he plans to close the distance. My heart hammers in my chest, and a heaviness blooms low in my core, only this time, I don’t make the same idiotic mistake.

Instead, I push out a breath and my words. “You know like what.”

“I don’t think I do.” His tone is low, and husky.

I’m pretty sure at this point he can see the vein pulsing in my neck, but still, I’m able to steel my voice as I say what we’ve ignored for over fifteen years. “Like you were going to kiss me.”

Adrian’s eyes flash to my lips, then back up. “Would you have let me?”

“What?” I’m not sure the words are audible until he shifts his weight and moves forward.

“I’m curious. Would you have let me?”

Adrian isn’t the one to play wicked games, not when it comes to people’s feelings, so the notion he’s asking, with his lips three inches from mine, almost feels like a dream. Or a nightmare waiting to rear its head.

“Of course not. Why do you ask?”

His lips pull down in the corners, and he shrugs, backing away casually as if he wasn’t just suffocating me with want. “Only wondering, Bambi.”

Adrian snatches the shirt from the counter before gesturing to the sink again. “Now, have a look so you can buy me that drink.”