The Time Traveler's Boyfriend by Annabelle Costa Read Free Book Online

his brown eyes to meet mine. He has so many lines around them for someone his age—it makes me ache sometimes. “Think about it, Claudia,” he says. “If I’d never broken my back, my life would have been so much easier.”
    So here’s the crazy thing: Adam never struck me as particularly bitter about being in a wheelchair. Yes, he’s had it rough. But at the same time, he’s never once expressed any sort of sentiment that made me think he truly wished he could walk again. He actually seemed pretty okay with it. In fact, that accident is what made him enough money to be able to live the kind of lifestyle he wanted. But obviously I had him all wrong.
    “And if I never get hurt,” Adam goes on. “I’ll never meet her .”
    I know who he means, of course. Her. The Bitch.
    Well, he’s managed to tempt me, that’s for sure. After all, if Adam never meets The Bitch, then he won’t be so anxious about commitment, and maybe we actually have a chance to spend the rest of our lives together. And all I have to do is risk my life being zapped through a wormhole in space. No big deal.
    I wish I were a risk-taker but I’m really not. I’m terrified of taking risks. I’ve never gone bungee jumping or even skiing. I don’t gamble when I go to casinos. I even get a little nervous about those scratch-off lottery tickets. And of all the things I could risk, I’d say my life is way up there.
    When I don’t say anything, Adam looks away. “I shouldn’t have asked,” he says. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
    “Okay, let’s just forget about it,” I say.
    But how could I forget? Adam just offered me an opportunity to fix everything wrong with his life. And I said no.
     
    ***
     
    The rest of the evening is pretty subdued.
    I mean, my boyfriend just showed me a time machine, zapped a rabbit back in time three days, then asked me to go back in time and keep him from getting hit by a car … and I said no. So, since all those topics are kind of off limits right now, I don’t know what we can possibly talk about. The weather? The latest contestants on American Idol ? It all seems a bit weak.
    Adam asks me if I’ll spend the night, and I say yes because I’ve got to say yes to something tonight. He hits the shower while I lie in bed in an oversized T-shirt I borrowed (i.e. stole) from him, and I play a mindless game on my phone. Adam’s a night showerer, while I’m a morning showerer, which works well for our relationship because we’re never both trying to hit the showers at the same time. It’s also good because he’s definitely not fast in the shower—it’s hard to be when you can’t stand up. He’s got a bench in there that he transfers onto, and a second nozzle he uses that’s within easy reach.
    When Adam comes out of the bathroom in boxers and an undershirt, he’s got a towel draped over his wheelchair, under his legs, to keep the cushion dry. The shirt is sticking to his chest a little bit from moisture, and I can make out all the muscles below the fabric. For a geeky scientist, Adam has an incredibly muscular upper body—he explained to me that it’s from years of wheeling himself around full time, and I love the rock-hard pecs, delts, and biceps. His hair is still dripping wet, so that it’s harder to see the gray. He looks incredibly sexy right now. But somehow, I can’t help but wonder how he looked when he was twenty-two, on that day he went out with his bicycle.
    “I’m sorry, Claudia,” he says for what feels like the millionth time tonight.
    “You don’t have to apologize,” I say, mostly because every time he says he’s sorry, I feel a little bit worse.
    “It was an asshole thing to ask you to do that,” he says.
    “Yeah,” I say, trying to force a smile. “You’re a huge asshole.” Not really. He’s actually the nicest guy I’ve ever known.
    He transfers into bed next to me and I cuddle up to his chest, while he puts his strong arm around my shoulders and hugs me