Page 22 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Now

I thought I could fight it. Or at least pretend it wasn’t there after all this time. But—shocking to absolutely no one—I was wrong.

I shot up from the picnic table, mumbling something to Kieran about running to the restroom. I barely registered his response over the blood pounding in my ears, the emotions swelling behind my eyes.

My thoughts and feelings muddled together, each more confusing than the last. Annoyance, frustration, anger, insecurity, longing, sadness, desire.

Nate fucking Cassidy.

I burst through the restroom doors and came to a halt, pressing my palm against my forehead.

It seemed silly, being so worked up over something as simple as a look.

But that look shook something loose within me, something that had been tucked away for a long time, forgotten or ignored long enough that I hoped it was gone for good.

And it took one look. His gaze settled on me for a beat too long, I got lost in his deep sea eyes for a time-expanding millisecond; those eyes dipped to my mouth, and the chord was plucked like a symphony cellist tuning before a performance.

I splashed cold water on the back of my neck just to ground myself and closed my eyes.

I counted to ten, then counted to ten again before I opened them and stared at myself in the mirror.

My brown waves frizzed and curled at the roots from the night’s humidity.

My dress, wrinkled at my rounded hips from sitting, felt less flattering than it had a few hours prior.

And my eyes? They looked as tired and torn as I felt.

How could I go from feeling so good to feeling so… not good in a matter of seconds?

Nate Cassidy. That’s how.

Fuck him for making me feel this way, I thought.

Fuck him for making things so easy and so fucking hard at the same time.

Fuck him for making my brain short-circuit just by saying my name.

Fuck him for looking at me with those eyes, smiling with that dimple, laughing that silent laugh, existing with that cool, unbothered confidence.

Like nothing ever shakes him, nothing ever gets under his skin.

Like he isn’t phased by me at all, not even a fraction as much as I am by him.

Like none of this matters to him; like I never mattered to him.

Does he enjoy messing with me? Just to watch me squirm?

I wrung my hands to release some of the pent-up, uncomfortable energy.

Just once, I’d like to see him as unsettled as he makes me. Just once, I’d like to see him feel out of control and anxious. Feel the way I feel.

Fuck him for not being honest with me years ago. Fuck him for not being able to be vulnerable without spinning out of control. Fuck him for not talking to me, not telling me how he felt.

Fuck him for making me fall in love with him.

Even thinking it gave me pause. I didn’t love him. But I had, once upon a time. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had .

If I could go back, if I would have realized it when it was happening, I would have turned it all off in a heartbeat. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to feel this way.

Because the truth was, I fell in love with Nate Cassidy a long time ago. And he never fucking loved me back.

When I finally left the bathroom, Nate was standing a few feet away, half hidden in shadow, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

Can’t I get a moment of peace around here?

Heat still flooded through me, fueled by frustration and confusion and heartsickness and something else I still couldn’t discern.

“Why do you keep following me?” I snapped at him, the object of my ire.

Even in the dark, I could make out his quick blinks. His surprise at my words.

Good.

“I’m just making sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine, Nate. You don’t have to check on me like I’m a little kid.” My uncomfortable heels clacked on the stone floor as I passed him.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them out defensively as he pushed off the wall to follow me. “Okay, fine. Jesus.”

I whipped around to face him. “Don’t.”

He dropped his hands, palms slapping against his thighs. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, Oli?” His brows pulled together, and something crossed over his features. Confusion or annoyance, I didn’t care .

I pressed the heel of my hand into my forehead before smoothing it over my hair.

Over Nate’s shoulder, a large bay window overlooked the courtyard where the party had been.

It was completely cleared out, devoid of all tables and decorations, and was left looking bare and desolate by comparison. “Just leave me alone, please.”

“Alright,” his voice softened, so low it was almost a whisper. “I’ll go back outside.”

“No, Nate.” The sharpness in my voice lessened as I met his eye.

“I mean, leave me alone . This weekend. I— I think it’s best if we just steer clear of each other.

” I chewed on my lip. Nate tracked the movement.

I stopped. “Kieran, he… He doesn’t know about you, okay?

About…” I gestured mutely to the air between us.

He made a face, the crease between his eyebrows deepening, and looked somewhere over my head like he was trying to piece together brand-new information. “He doesn’t know about it at all? Or he just doesn’t know about the last time?”

Heat climbed up my neck. I tried not to think about the last time. I’d forget it ever happened if I could. It wasn’t worth the heartache that followed. “He doesn’t know about any of it. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff and—”

Nate swiped a hand in front of him, cutting my words off.

“Oli, I’m sorry, but that’s not my problem.

We’re both here. We’re both going to be hanging around for two more days.

” He shook his head and brought his hands to rest on his hips like he didn’t know what to make of the situation. “I can’t exactly avoid you.”

“Yeah, but you can avoid following me when I don’t want to be followed.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You can avoid looking at me. You can avoid smiling at me, like… ”

My ridiculous argument slipped away the moment I heard it out loud. I’m acting like a child. How was I supposed to articulate something I haven’t been able to put words to for five years? “Can you just play it cool? For all he knows, you’re just another guy from school, okay?”

Nate’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he rocked back on his heels. The guy had the nerve to look like I’d wounded him. Me. Wounding him. Laughable.

I continued. “There’s no reason to act like we were ever anything but friends.” My thoughts hitched on the word.

“I’ve never been your fucking friend.”

How many times had those words rang through my head since the day they were spoken?

“And I know you won’t, but please don’t say anything to him.”

He dropped his head between his shoulders, eyes downcast as if concentrating on his breathing. His hair hung over his forehead, and despite my agitation, my fingers itched to tuck it back into place.

“Please, Nate. I just want to get through this weekend and celebrate our friends. The last thing I want to do is dig up all our shit.” I liked to believe I was above begging, but I wasn’t.

He nodded, more to himself than to me. “Yeah, okay. Fine.”

I released a breath and opened my mouth to thank him, but he’d already brushed past me in a flash, striding into the night.