DreamOutLoud13
Blue Crack Addict
I started this fic several months back with the intention of writing a short October-era Adam fic. Before it was over it had become a 51 page romantic comedy (more romance than comedy though... if it were a movie it would be a chick flick 
). I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out.
The story takes place on the first leg of the October tour or so (early 1982), but it's laden with historical inaccuracies, so those'll just have to be forgiven, artistic license and all
The story takes place in a sort of fictionalized New York City. The city is never mentioned by name, and I didn't really attempt to make it geographically accurate at all.
The title is from the Doors song, by the way.
Enough explanation, on with the story. I dunno how many chapters it's gonna take, and some of the chapter breaks might end up being awkward, since I didn't think about that when I was writing it. The chapters are probably gonna be long though, so that it doesn't take me a freaking year to post it all
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Heather couldn’t believe she’d done it, but she had. She’d quit her job. The personal belongings that she had accumulated in her desk over the last three years were now tucked into a paper bag, which she held against her chest with one arm. As she stepped off of the elevator and crossed the lobby, two thoughts were in her mind. The first was that she really shouldn’t have quit her job. She needed the money, and jobs didn’t just fall out of the sky, but the pressure had gotten too strong, she’d quit because she couldn’t take it any more. The second thought on her mind was that she needed a cigarette. Badly.
As she stepped out of the building, Heather felt a brief sense of liberation. She was done with this place. She never planned to step foot into it again. She smiled as she squinted into the sunlight and turned to her left. She would, of course, have to find a new job, but that could wait for a moment. Right now she wanted to relish in her newfound freedom. On any other day she would have had two more full hours of work ahead of her. Today she could do anything she wanted with those two hours.
A narrow ledge of concrete ran in a lip along the front edge of the building. Heather moved down a few feet from the door and plopped herself down on it. She dropped the paper bag between her feet and dug her cigarettes out of her purse. She tapped one out and slipped it between her lips, then pulled out the lighter. She struck it, and nothing happened. She tried again, but still nothing. Again, and nothing. The lighter, just a cheap plastic device with BiC stamped on the side, had failed her. All she wanted in the world right now was a godamned cigarette, and she couldn’t even have that.
It was now really beginning to catch up to her. Heather put her head in her hands, her cigarette dangling from the fingers of one, her useless lighter clutched in the fingers of the other. She stared down at the pavement, fighting tears and trying to figure out why she’d been so stupid and quit her job.
“Miss, do you need a light?” The voice was young, but deep. Smooth, with a distinct English accent.
Heather raised her head up to see her saviour. He was young, younger even than she was, with a head framed in golden curls that shot up in every direction. He peered down at her with eyes the colour of an autumnal sky, framed behind thick glasses. He looked incredibly cool, standing there in a sleeveless vest-type shirt and tight jeans. Thick bracelets were stacked halfway up his left arm. An already half-smoked cigarette dangled from his fingers while he held out a lighter to her. The sight of the thin tendril of smoke rising up from it was enough to make her mouth water.
“Please.” She said, smiling gratefully and reaching up to take the lighter. She lit her cigarette and took a long, deep drag from it before handing him back the lighter. “Thank you. God, I needed this in the worst way.”
“What’s wrong?” He said, sitting down beside her.
She smiled and looked over at him sideways. “I just quit my job.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
“I was fine with it until my lighter decided to die on me. But, on the bright side, I guess that means I don’t have to dress like this any more.” She said and looked down at her attire. She was wearing an unflattering blazer, and a matching skirt that fell down to her knees. She wore a pink and blue patterned silk scarf tied around the collar of her shirt and tucked into the blazer, as well as pantyhose and high heels.
“Not your style, I take it?”
“No, not at all.” She said, and pulled her hair loose from its bun, then unknotted the scarf at her collar, and instead, tied it around her hair as a headband. “This is better, I think.”
He smiled. “It’s a start.”
“Indeed. And I’m being rude, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Heather Foster.” She said, offering her hand.
“Adam Clayton.” He said, shaking her hand.
“So, Adam, what is that you do that lets you dress so cool and walk the streets in the middle of the afternoon?” She asked, assuming he was probably a student.
“I’m a musician, actually.”
“Ah, well, it beats typing all day. Is that what brings you to America?”
He nodded. “Yes, we’re on tour.”
She raised her eyebrows. “On tour, really?”
“Yes, we’ve just released our second record.”
“Wow! So, are you famous? Have I heard of you?”
“I don’t know, have you heard of U2?”
“You Too?” She furrowed her brow.
“Yes, just the letter and the number.” He raised his hand and traced the name in the air with his cigarette.
“Oh, I don’t know. I seem to live under a rock when it comes to that sort of stuff anyway.” She paused. “You have a lovely voice, do you sing?”
“Oh no.” He gave a brief laugh. “No, Bono sings, I play bass guitar.”
She nodded, pretending she actually knew the difference between a bass guitar and any other kind of guitar. She noticed that although he’d finished his cigarette, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. He was good looking, and nice, and seemed interested in her. She wasn’t ready to let this conversation end just yet. “What kind of name is Bono, anyway?”
He laughed again. He had a wonderful laugh. “Oh, it’s just a thing he and his friends did back in school. They all gave each other names. There’s The Edge too, he plays guitar in our band.”
“The Edge?! That’s even worse than Bono!” She said, stifling her giggles. “Are you the only one in the band with a normal name?”
“No, there’s Larry as well, our drummer. He actually started the band.”
“Well thank God for Larry.” She said, putting her cigarette and brushing her hands off on her skirt. They were both done smoking now, the only thing keeping them both here was the seemingly mutual reluctance to end this strange communion.
Now that her cigarette was gone, Heather felt awkward with her hands. She fiddled with the corner of her paper bag and fumbled for something else to say. “Are you playing tonight?”
“Not tonight, tomorrow night though. You should come.”
“I just might. It’s not like I can say ‘but I have to be at work the next morning.’” She paused, standing up. “But right now, all I want to do is get out of these clothes.” She watched his face as she said this, and was pleased with what she saw. A look of amusement, curiosity, and intrigue had crossed his face when he realized what she’d said. To her surprise, he matched her boldness, but took it a step farther.
“Well go ahead then, don’t let me stop you.”
She gaped with feigned shock, covering her mouth with one hand and turning slightly away. “You’re terrible!” She scolded, laughter creeping into her voice all the while.
He stood up and crossed his arms. “You walked right into that one.”
She nodded, smiling. “I did. I did indeed. I might have even done it on purpose.” She bent over and picked up her paper bag. “So tell me, do you have any plans this evening?”
He smiled. “Nothing that can’t be avoided.”
“Good, we should hang out. You’re fun.” She smiled. “How does six o’clock sound?”
“That sounds fine.”
“Okay, want to meet me at this little bar, it’s around 23rd and Washington, across from a music store, you can’t miss it. Wait, wait.” She paused, mild anxiety and annoyance written on her face. “You are old enough to be served, aren’t you? Please say yes.”
“I am in fact, twenty-one. You Yanks and your ridiculous drinking age!” He shook his head with exaggerated disapproval.
“Yanks?!” Heather asked, amused.
“It’s an affectionate term, I assure you.”
“Right.” She playfully rolled her eyes, then smiled. “So I’ll see you at six?”
He nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Great.” Heather waved briefly and made her way down the block toward her apartment. It wasn’t a date, not really, but it was better than nothing. Despite being now unemployed, things were looking up.
Two hours later, Adam stood before the bathroom mirror in the hotel room he shared with Edge, delicately running a brush through his curls. In the mirror’s reflection, he could see Bono approaching him from behind, bearing his usual look of innocence strangely crossed with mischief. Adam groaned, knowing that whatever was about to come wouldn’t be good.
Bono leaned against the wall behind Adam and smiled. “And where are you going tonight?”
“I’m just going out, that’s all.”
“Oh, with who?” Bono asked, looking amused.
Adam tried not to visibly roll his eyes as he set the brush down and turned around to face Bono. “Who says I’m not going alone?”
“You’re getting all spiffed up, so you must be meeting someone. I bet it’s a girl.” Something in Adam’s reaction must have given away the truth, because almost immediately, Bono’s grin grew with triumph and he turned around to face the others. “Hey Edge, Larry! Adam’s got a date!”
Adam raised one hand to his forehead in exasperation, then peered through his fingers past Bono, into the greater part of the hotel room. Edge was sitting on a chair in a corner, barely looking up from the magazine he’d been perusing. Larry was lying on his stomach on one of the beds, propped on his elbows, chin in his hands, watching an episode of Underdog, looking more like a child than a musician.
Bono flopped onto the other bed. “Hey, didn’t you guys hear me? I said Adam’s got a date!”
Finally Larry indulged Bono. He rolled over onto one side to face
the others and looked up at Adam. “Where did you meet her?”
“On the street. She’d just quit her job and needed a cigarette. I gave her a light.”
Adam’s answer struck Bono with juvenile amusement, he rolled over on the bed in laughter. “You gave her a light? Did she say ‘Come on baby, light my fire’? Are you gonna try set her night on fire?”
Adam opened his mouth to tell Bono off, but before he could get a word out, Edge saved him the trouble. “Bono, grow up. And get over here and look at this ad.”
“Huh? What ad?”
Edge held up the magazine. “There’s a guitar store downtown having a one day sale tomorrow.”
Bono shuffled across the room to get a better look at the magazine. “Edge, you’re not going to buy a new guitar the day of a show.”
“Well I’m not going to use a new guitar during a show, but I can buy one.”
And with Bono temporarily distracted from any further remarks concerning his love life, Adam slipped out of the hotel room, once again smiling and looking forward to seeing Heather again.
As Heather made her way up the block toward the bar where she was to meet Adam, she felt much more comfortable than she had earlier. Since their brief meeting outside her former workplace, she’d had a shower and changed into a clingy black top and jeans that fit well in all the right places. Her hair was combed straight and pinned back on both sides with barrettes. She kept reminding herself that this wasn’t technically a date, but she wanted to look her best, regardless.
As she stepped into the cool darkness of the bar, she spotted Adam immediately. That shock of hair made him hard to miss. He was sitting at the bar with a beer in one hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray in front of him. As she approached him, he turned around and caught sight of her.
“Heather! Wow, you look gorgeous.” He turned away then, and quickly took a swig of beer, as though embarrassed with himself for blurting that out.
For the moment, Heather was glad he’d turned away. She could feel her cheeks growing hot, and was sure they were turning red as well. She quickly composed herself and slid onto the barstool next to him. “Thanks. And you look quite handsome yourself.”
“So, do you want to get a table, or...?”
“No, this is fine.” Heather said, and waved the bartender over so that she could order a beer. When that was done, she turned back to him and leaned on one elbow. He looked back, smiling slightly, his mass of hair surrounding his head like a cloud. For a brief moment, Heather was reminded of a French poodle her grandmother had had when she was a little girl. “You know, I still can’t get over your hair.”
He gave a small chuckle. “Like it?”
“I do indeed.” She lifted her hand up toward his head. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” He said, lowering his head slightly so that she could reach.
Heather sank her fingers into the swirl of curls, and immediately corrected herself. This wasn’t like her grandmother’s poodle at all, this was like sticking your fingers into the wool of a sheep at a children’s petting zoo. Heather giggled and pulled her hand away. First she’d compared his hair to the fur of a dog, and now to the wool of a sheep.
Adam gave her an uncertain look. “Something funny?”
Heather shook her head. “You don’t want to know. But believe me, it’s positive.” She gave him a genuine smile to show her honesty.
“Good.” He said, taking a swig of his half-finished beer.
Heather took the first swallow of her own. It was perfect, ice cold and smooth, but she didn’t want to spend her entire evening with Adam in this dark little bar. “But I’m not going to sit here all night and get drunk with you.”
“Oh.” He said, lowering his head, disappointment showing clearly in his tone and body language.
“Oh shit. I didn’t mean to sound so rude, that’s not what I meant at all. I meant one drink, and then we’re getting out of here and find something more exciting to do.”
He took another swig of beer, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, before looking over at her with a coy smile. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
Heather was momentarily taken aback by the sight of Adam without his glasses. She’d thought he was good looking before, but suddenly he was like a different person. Unfortunately he slipped them right back on. He needed them, she supposed.
Heather took the time to light a cigarette and take a quick, calming drag on it before answering him. “I have a few things in mind, but I can’t reveal all of my secrets just yet.”
Adam raised his eyebrows suggestively. “So I take it you will be revealing something tonight?”
Heather put her face into her hands and laughed. “I walked into that one too, didn’t I?”
“Right into it.”
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That's all for now. Let me know your thoughts
Also, let me know if the chapters should be longer
). I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out.The story takes place on the first leg of the October tour or so (early 1982), but it's laden with historical inaccuracies, so those'll just have to be forgiven, artistic license and all
The story takes place in a sort of fictionalized New York City. The city is never mentioned by name, and I didn't really attempt to make it geographically accurate at all.The title is from the Doors song, by the way.
Enough explanation, on with the story. I dunno how many chapters it's gonna take, and some of the chapter breaks might end up being awkward, since I didn't think about that when I was writing it. The chapters are probably gonna be long though, so that it doesn't take me a freaking year to post it all
---------
Heather couldn’t believe she’d done it, but she had. She’d quit her job. The personal belongings that she had accumulated in her desk over the last three years were now tucked into a paper bag, which she held against her chest with one arm. As she stepped off of the elevator and crossed the lobby, two thoughts were in her mind. The first was that she really shouldn’t have quit her job. She needed the money, and jobs didn’t just fall out of the sky, but the pressure had gotten too strong, she’d quit because she couldn’t take it any more. The second thought on her mind was that she needed a cigarette. Badly.
As she stepped out of the building, Heather felt a brief sense of liberation. She was done with this place. She never planned to step foot into it again. She smiled as she squinted into the sunlight and turned to her left. She would, of course, have to find a new job, but that could wait for a moment. Right now she wanted to relish in her newfound freedom. On any other day she would have had two more full hours of work ahead of her. Today she could do anything she wanted with those two hours.
A narrow ledge of concrete ran in a lip along the front edge of the building. Heather moved down a few feet from the door and plopped herself down on it. She dropped the paper bag between her feet and dug her cigarettes out of her purse. She tapped one out and slipped it between her lips, then pulled out the lighter. She struck it, and nothing happened. She tried again, but still nothing. Again, and nothing. The lighter, just a cheap plastic device with BiC stamped on the side, had failed her. All she wanted in the world right now was a godamned cigarette, and she couldn’t even have that.
It was now really beginning to catch up to her. Heather put her head in her hands, her cigarette dangling from the fingers of one, her useless lighter clutched in the fingers of the other. She stared down at the pavement, fighting tears and trying to figure out why she’d been so stupid and quit her job.
“Miss, do you need a light?” The voice was young, but deep. Smooth, with a distinct English accent.
Heather raised her head up to see her saviour. He was young, younger even than she was, with a head framed in golden curls that shot up in every direction. He peered down at her with eyes the colour of an autumnal sky, framed behind thick glasses. He looked incredibly cool, standing there in a sleeveless vest-type shirt and tight jeans. Thick bracelets were stacked halfway up his left arm. An already half-smoked cigarette dangled from his fingers while he held out a lighter to her. The sight of the thin tendril of smoke rising up from it was enough to make her mouth water.
“Please.” She said, smiling gratefully and reaching up to take the lighter. She lit her cigarette and took a long, deep drag from it before handing him back the lighter. “Thank you. God, I needed this in the worst way.”
“What’s wrong?” He said, sitting down beside her.
She smiled and looked over at him sideways. “I just quit my job.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
“I was fine with it until my lighter decided to die on me. But, on the bright side, I guess that means I don’t have to dress like this any more.” She said and looked down at her attire. She was wearing an unflattering blazer, and a matching skirt that fell down to her knees. She wore a pink and blue patterned silk scarf tied around the collar of her shirt and tucked into the blazer, as well as pantyhose and high heels.
“Not your style, I take it?”
“No, not at all.” She said, and pulled her hair loose from its bun, then unknotted the scarf at her collar, and instead, tied it around her hair as a headband. “This is better, I think.”
He smiled. “It’s a start.”
“Indeed. And I’m being rude, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Heather Foster.” She said, offering her hand.
“Adam Clayton.” He said, shaking her hand.
“So, Adam, what is that you do that lets you dress so cool and walk the streets in the middle of the afternoon?” She asked, assuming he was probably a student.
“I’m a musician, actually.”
“Ah, well, it beats typing all day. Is that what brings you to America?”
He nodded. “Yes, we’re on tour.”
She raised her eyebrows. “On tour, really?”
“Yes, we’ve just released our second record.”
“Wow! So, are you famous? Have I heard of you?”
“I don’t know, have you heard of U2?”
“You Too?” She furrowed her brow.
“Yes, just the letter and the number.” He raised his hand and traced the name in the air with his cigarette.
“Oh, I don’t know. I seem to live under a rock when it comes to that sort of stuff anyway.” She paused. “You have a lovely voice, do you sing?”
“Oh no.” He gave a brief laugh. “No, Bono sings, I play bass guitar.”
She nodded, pretending she actually knew the difference between a bass guitar and any other kind of guitar. She noticed that although he’d finished his cigarette, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. He was good looking, and nice, and seemed interested in her. She wasn’t ready to let this conversation end just yet. “What kind of name is Bono, anyway?”
He laughed again. He had a wonderful laugh. “Oh, it’s just a thing he and his friends did back in school. They all gave each other names. There’s The Edge too, he plays guitar in our band.”
“The Edge?! That’s even worse than Bono!” She said, stifling her giggles. “Are you the only one in the band with a normal name?”
“No, there’s Larry as well, our drummer. He actually started the band.”
“Well thank God for Larry.” She said, putting her cigarette and brushing her hands off on her skirt. They were both done smoking now, the only thing keeping them both here was the seemingly mutual reluctance to end this strange communion.
Now that her cigarette was gone, Heather felt awkward with her hands. She fiddled with the corner of her paper bag and fumbled for something else to say. “Are you playing tonight?”
“Not tonight, tomorrow night though. You should come.”
“I just might. It’s not like I can say ‘but I have to be at work the next morning.’” She paused, standing up. “But right now, all I want to do is get out of these clothes.” She watched his face as she said this, and was pleased with what she saw. A look of amusement, curiosity, and intrigue had crossed his face when he realized what she’d said. To her surprise, he matched her boldness, but took it a step farther.
“Well go ahead then, don’t let me stop you.”
She gaped with feigned shock, covering her mouth with one hand and turning slightly away. “You’re terrible!” She scolded, laughter creeping into her voice all the while.
He stood up and crossed his arms. “You walked right into that one.”
She nodded, smiling. “I did. I did indeed. I might have even done it on purpose.” She bent over and picked up her paper bag. “So tell me, do you have any plans this evening?”
He smiled. “Nothing that can’t be avoided.”
“Good, we should hang out. You’re fun.” She smiled. “How does six o’clock sound?”
“That sounds fine.”
“Okay, want to meet me at this little bar, it’s around 23rd and Washington, across from a music store, you can’t miss it. Wait, wait.” She paused, mild anxiety and annoyance written on her face. “You are old enough to be served, aren’t you? Please say yes.”
“I am in fact, twenty-one. You Yanks and your ridiculous drinking age!” He shook his head with exaggerated disapproval.
“Yanks?!” Heather asked, amused.
“It’s an affectionate term, I assure you.”
“Right.” She playfully rolled her eyes, then smiled. “So I’ll see you at six?”
He nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Great.” Heather waved briefly and made her way down the block toward her apartment. It wasn’t a date, not really, but it was better than nothing. Despite being now unemployed, things were looking up.
Two hours later, Adam stood before the bathroom mirror in the hotel room he shared with Edge, delicately running a brush through his curls. In the mirror’s reflection, he could see Bono approaching him from behind, bearing his usual look of innocence strangely crossed with mischief. Adam groaned, knowing that whatever was about to come wouldn’t be good.
Bono leaned against the wall behind Adam and smiled. “And where are you going tonight?”
“I’m just going out, that’s all.”
“Oh, with who?” Bono asked, looking amused.
Adam tried not to visibly roll his eyes as he set the brush down and turned around to face Bono. “Who says I’m not going alone?”
“You’re getting all spiffed up, so you must be meeting someone. I bet it’s a girl.” Something in Adam’s reaction must have given away the truth, because almost immediately, Bono’s grin grew with triumph and he turned around to face the others. “Hey Edge, Larry! Adam’s got a date!”
Adam raised one hand to his forehead in exasperation, then peered through his fingers past Bono, into the greater part of the hotel room. Edge was sitting on a chair in a corner, barely looking up from the magazine he’d been perusing. Larry was lying on his stomach on one of the beds, propped on his elbows, chin in his hands, watching an episode of Underdog, looking more like a child than a musician.
Bono flopped onto the other bed. “Hey, didn’t you guys hear me? I said Adam’s got a date!”
Finally Larry indulged Bono. He rolled over onto one side to face
the others and looked up at Adam. “Where did you meet her?”
“On the street. She’d just quit her job and needed a cigarette. I gave her a light.”
Adam’s answer struck Bono with juvenile amusement, he rolled over on the bed in laughter. “You gave her a light? Did she say ‘Come on baby, light my fire’? Are you gonna try set her night on fire?”
Adam opened his mouth to tell Bono off, but before he could get a word out, Edge saved him the trouble. “Bono, grow up. And get over here and look at this ad.”
“Huh? What ad?”
Edge held up the magazine. “There’s a guitar store downtown having a one day sale tomorrow.”
Bono shuffled across the room to get a better look at the magazine. “Edge, you’re not going to buy a new guitar the day of a show.”
“Well I’m not going to use a new guitar during a show, but I can buy one.”
And with Bono temporarily distracted from any further remarks concerning his love life, Adam slipped out of the hotel room, once again smiling and looking forward to seeing Heather again.
As Heather made her way up the block toward the bar where she was to meet Adam, she felt much more comfortable than she had earlier. Since their brief meeting outside her former workplace, she’d had a shower and changed into a clingy black top and jeans that fit well in all the right places. Her hair was combed straight and pinned back on both sides with barrettes. She kept reminding herself that this wasn’t technically a date, but she wanted to look her best, regardless.
As she stepped into the cool darkness of the bar, she spotted Adam immediately. That shock of hair made him hard to miss. He was sitting at the bar with a beer in one hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray in front of him. As she approached him, he turned around and caught sight of her.
“Heather! Wow, you look gorgeous.” He turned away then, and quickly took a swig of beer, as though embarrassed with himself for blurting that out.
For the moment, Heather was glad he’d turned away. She could feel her cheeks growing hot, and was sure they were turning red as well. She quickly composed herself and slid onto the barstool next to him. “Thanks. And you look quite handsome yourself.”
“So, do you want to get a table, or...?”
“No, this is fine.” Heather said, and waved the bartender over so that she could order a beer. When that was done, she turned back to him and leaned on one elbow. He looked back, smiling slightly, his mass of hair surrounding his head like a cloud. For a brief moment, Heather was reminded of a French poodle her grandmother had had when she was a little girl. “You know, I still can’t get over your hair.”
He gave a small chuckle. “Like it?”
“I do indeed.” She lifted her hand up toward his head. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” He said, lowering his head slightly so that she could reach.
Heather sank her fingers into the swirl of curls, and immediately corrected herself. This wasn’t like her grandmother’s poodle at all, this was like sticking your fingers into the wool of a sheep at a children’s petting zoo. Heather giggled and pulled her hand away. First she’d compared his hair to the fur of a dog, and now to the wool of a sheep.
Adam gave her an uncertain look. “Something funny?”
Heather shook her head. “You don’t want to know. But believe me, it’s positive.” She gave him a genuine smile to show her honesty.
“Good.” He said, taking a swig of his half-finished beer.
Heather took the first swallow of her own. It was perfect, ice cold and smooth, but she didn’t want to spend her entire evening with Adam in this dark little bar. “But I’m not going to sit here all night and get drunk with you.”
“Oh.” He said, lowering his head, disappointment showing clearly in his tone and body language.
“Oh shit. I didn’t mean to sound so rude, that’s not what I meant at all. I meant one drink, and then we’re getting out of here and find something more exciting to do.”
He took another swig of beer, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, before looking over at her with a coy smile. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
Heather was momentarily taken aback by the sight of Adam without his glasses. She’d thought he was good looking before, but suddenly he was like a different person. Unfortunately he slipped them right back on. He needed them, she supposed.
Heather took the time to light a cigarette and take a quick, calming drag on it before answering him. “I have a few things in mind, but I can’t reveal all of my secrets just yet.”
Adam raised his eyebrows suggestively. “So I take it you will be revealing something tonight?”
Heather put her face into her hands and laughed. “I walked into that one too, didn’t I?”
“Right into it.”
---------
That's all for now. Let me know your thoughts
Also, let me know if the chapters should be longer
Last edited:
you finally posted it!!!!
