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Summary
If someone had asked Adam what his type was before all of this, it definitely wouldn’t have been Lawrence. His exes- few and far between as they were- had all been… similar, in a way. Edgy, punk or trying to be, party animals. Vikki had had a trust fund, practically, but she had still dressed the part at least. His hook ups had been more varied, to be fair, the main criteria being willing to go home with a stranger, but even the older men he had gone for had tended to be regular guys, truckers looking to blow off some steam, losers. If anyone had asked him, he would have said his type was a fun time, something pretty to play with before crawling into his own bed at the end of the day.
It definitely wouldn’t have been this, but maybe it should have been. ‘Cause it was really working for him now.