{"id":150,"date":"2025-09-12T10:41:00","date_gmt":"2025-09-12T10:41:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/Everest\/WordPress%20Project\/viable\/?p=150"},"modified":"2025-09-22T05:27:17","modified_gmt":"2025-09-22T05:27:17","slug":"how-do-adams-look-in-this-new-getup","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/?p=150","title":{"rendered":"How do Adams look in this new getup"},"content":{"rendered":"
The bell above the bookstore door jingles, and I look up from the stack of poetry collections I\u2019m arranging\u2014only to freeze. There\u2019s Adams, standing in the doorway, the afternoon sun streaming behind him like a golden halo, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. He\u2019s wearing a new jacket: a camel-colored wool coat, tailored just right, the collar turned up slightly against the crisp autumn air. It\u2019s nothing like his usual hoodies or flannel shirts\u2014those soft, familiar layers I\u2019ve grown to love\u2014but this? This makes my chest feel tight, like my heart\u2019s trying to leap out of my throat.<\/div>\n
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He spots me, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth\u2014the same lopsided smile that made me fall for him six months ago, when he\u2019d stumbled into the store asking for a copy of my favorite Mary Oliver book. \u201cYou\u2019re staring,\u201d he says, walking over, his boots tapping softly on the wooden floor. I set down the book in my hand, my cheeks warming. \u201cCan you blame me?\u201d I say, gesturing to his jacket. \u201cYou look\u2026 wow.\u201d He laughs, scratching the back of his neck\u2014a nervous habit I adore\u2014and his eyes crinkle at the corners. \u201cI was nervous to wear it,\u201d he admits. \u201cThought it might be too much.\u201d \u201cToo much?\u201d I say, stepping closer. I reach out, my fingers brushing the soft wool of the jacket. \u201cIt\u2019s perfect. You\u2019re perfect.\u201d<\/div>\n
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He leans in, his voice low. \u201cOnly because you\u2019re here,\u201d he says. My breath catches, and for a moment, the bookstore fades\u2014the sound of pages turning, the quiet chatter of customers, the soft hum of the heater. It\u2019s just us, standing in the middle of the poetry section, the scent of old books and his cedar cologne mixing in the air. I\u2019ve seen Adams in so many ways: messy-haired in the morning, covered in flour after we tried to bake cookies, laughing so hard he snorts at a bad movie. But there\u2019s something about this jacket\u2014something about the way it fits him, the way it makes him look both polished and still so undeniably him<\/i>\u2014that makes my heart race.<\/div>\n
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\u201cYou know,\u201d I say, looping my arm through his, \u201cwhen you first walked in, I thought I was imagining things. Like, is that really my Adams, all dressed up?\u201d He grins, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. \u201cYour Adams,\u201d he repeats, like he\u2019s savoring the words. \u201cAlways.\u201d We walk through the bookstore together, our steps slow, stopping to look at a shelf of classic novels here, a display of children\u2019s books there. Every time we pass a mirror\u2014small, round ones hung on the walls between bookshelves\u2014I catch a glimpse of us: me in my favorite sweater, him in that camel jacket, our arms linked, our smiles soft. And every time, I feel that same flutter in my chest\u2014the same feeling I get when he holds my hand, or whispers goodnight, or brings me my favorite tea when I\u2019m sick.<\/div>\n
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Later, as we walk home, the sun setting in a wash of pink and orange, Adams takes my hand, his fingers laced with mine. The jacket\u2019s sleeve brushes against my arm, and I snuggle closer to him, stealing his warmth. \u201cDid you buy the jacket for a reason?\u201d I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. He pauses, turning to look at me, his eyes soft. \u201cI saw it last week, when I was walking past that little shop on Main Street,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd I thought\u2026 I want to look nice for you. Not because I have to, but because you deserve someone who wants to put in the effort. Someone who wants to make you smile.\u201d<\/div>\n
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Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his chest. The jacket is warm, and it smells like him, and I never want to let go. \u201cYou always make me smile,\u201d I mumble into his shirt. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. \u201cGood,\u201d he says, pressing a kiss to my hair. \u201cBecause I plan on making you smile for a long time.\u201d We stand there for a while, watching the sun dip below the rooftops, the world quiet around us. And as I hold onto him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my cheek, I know. It\u2019s not just the jacket that makes him look amazing\u2014it\u2019s the way he loves me. The way he pays attention, the way he cares, the way he makes every moment feel special.<\/div>\n
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When we finally start walking again, Adams keeps his arm around me, and I glance up at him, his profile lit by the last of the sunlight. He catches me looking, and he smiles\u2014my favorite smile, the one that makes his eyes shine. \u201cWhat?\u201d he says. \u201cNothing,\u201d I say, leaning my head on his shoulder. \u201cJust thinking about how lucky I am. To have you. Jacket and all.\u201d He laughs, squeezing my hand. \u201cThe feeling\u2019s mutual,\u201d he says. And as we walk toward our apartment, the sky darkening, the streetlights turning on one by one, I know that no matter what Adams wears\u2014hoodies, flannel, or that perfect camel jacket\u2014I\u2019ll always look at him the same way: with love, with admiration, with that same flutter in my chest that started the day we met. Because it\u2019s never been about the clothes. It\u2019s always been about him. My Adams. Perfect, just the way he is.<\/div>\n
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The bell above the bookstore door jingles, and I look up from the stack of poetry collections I’m arranging—only to freeze. There’s Adams, standing in the doorway, the afternoon sun streaming behind him like a golden halo, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. He’s wearing a new jacket: a camel-colored wool coat,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":28,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4],"tags":[8,16,18],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/150"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=150"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/150\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":567,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/150\/revisions\/567"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/28"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=150"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=150"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.xsslovedating.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=150"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}