Page 27 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Three Years Ago, January

Is it possible to run toward and away from someone at the same time? I feel like that’s what I’m doing. I know it’s dumb, but I don’t know how to stop.

T wo weeks later, Gemma and I piled into the house Martinez, Miles, and Jared shared with armfuls of liquor and cupcakes Gemma had spent the morning making.

Children’s party hats and an array of even more liquor decorated the kitchen counter.

We had less than half an hour before Grant was supposed to show up, and time was of the essence, so I set to work.

“Where the fuck is Jared?” Martinez shouted somewhere in the house. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago with the balloons.”

I rummaged through the cabinets until I found a large pitcher.

“He said he was finishing with the band and would pick them up after,” Gemma called back.

I still hadn’t heard from Nate. Even the pointless texts—mostly songs sent back and forth every few days with “check them out” or “sounds like something you’d like”—had stopped.

I’d been relieved to get a sign of life from him when he responded in our group chat about Grant’s birthday. But other than that? Crickets.

It didn’t matter because he was putting a hold on working on Crescent Light’s new EP for a night to come out to the bars with everyone, and I was downright giddy to see him.

My stomach fluttered at the anticipation of being wrapped in his strong arms, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent, of the likelihood of going home with him once the night was over, and finally telling him how I felt.

The crazy part was that I wasn’t anxious at all. Where nerves usually settled in my system, there was only excitement.

I poured an entire bottle of rum into the pitcher in front of me, followed by half a bottle of vodka, orange juice, pineapple juice, and a packet of children’s fruit punch mix. I was filling the last few inches of the pitcher with water when Gemma cut the silence.

“Hey, so…” she started, steadily frosting a cupcake until it was covered in a pastel green, “have you heard from Nate lately?”

I smiled. “Other than a few texts last week, not really. I’ve been busy with classes, and I know he’s been busy, too.” I pulled my phone out for what felt like the hundredth time and opened my text chain with him. “Why?”

She shrugged, not meeting my eye as she started on another cupcake. “Just curious if you’ve talked yet. I heard something—”

“What’s this?” Martinez asked as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. He pointed at the gallon-sized pitcher, now full of dark orange liquid.

“Hunch punch,” I told him, grabbing a red plastic cup and filling it with ice from the bag melting in the sink. “Strong as hell and oh, so delicious.”

Jared, who’d finally made his arrival along with Miles and Leo, followed behind, peeking at the pitcher.

Bobbing over his shoulder was a giant balloon with the words Birthday Boy on display, and next to it, an even bigger balloon of Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

I poured another cup of the punch without waiting for him to ask.

As Martinez sniffed the concoction, I poked my head around the corner to the living area.

I’d hoped to find Nate there with his other bandmates, but only found Miles crossing the apartment toward the bedrooms, and Leo setting down a guitar case in the corner.

Unlocking my phone again, I quickly finished typing the text message to Nate and hit send.

Me

Hey stranger! Still coming out for Grant’s birthday tonight?

Martinez’s eyes lit up as he took a sip. “What’s in it?”

“Who cares?” Jared took a huge gulp. “It’ll get you fucked up and fast.”

“Correct,” Gemma added, plopping the icing on the counter and pouring herself a full cup.

“He’s here!” Leo shouted from the front room.

I grabbed the stack of Star Wars party hats and distributed them quickly as we squeezed into view of the front door in time to yell, Surprise! when it swung open. Grant’s toothy grin as he took us in was infectious.

“You guys,” he droned, clutching his hand to his chest. “You shouldn’t have!” He managed to look genuinely shocked despite the “surprise” planned in his presence two weeks prior .

“Here.” Jared shuffled ahead and handed a nearly overflowing cup of hunch punch to his brother. “Drink this.”

The gang acted as ridiculously as I’d expected at the bar, and I loved them for it.

Grant, as it turned out, was a very popular birthday boy.

After being joined by no less than ten of his other friends, we thankfully secured a couple of tables, and I volunteered to babysit our spot while everyone else went wild.

Martinez refused to take the Star Wars party hat off and forced Grant to keep his on too.

Jared never let go of the Obi-Wan balloon, going as far as explaining to the security guard outside that Obi-Wan didn’t have an ID on him, but it’s okay because, as a Jedi, he’s very responsible.

He even took the damn thing onto the dance floor, which wasn’t that bad because we never lost sight of his location.

All we had to do was look for Ewan McGregor bobbing around.

“Where’s Nate?” Grant hollered to Jared between shots about an hour after we arrived.

“I think he’s on his way?” he said with a question in his voice. He fished his phone out of his pocket, and I checked mine, too. No response to my earlier text. No responses from him in our group chat with everyone, either.

“Wait, there he is!” Jared yelled over the music. He pointed Ewan McGregor over the small crowd gathered around our table. With a hand cupped over his mouth, he shouted, “Speak of the handsome devil!”

I followed the direction of Jared’s shouting and spotted the top of Nate’s head on the far side of the crowd. His disheveled hair poked over everyone else’s heads like a beacon in the crowded place.

My heart jumped. I missed him .

Holy shit, I missed the guy.

He was sandwiched between some of Grant’s other friends I didn’t know, and though I could see parts of him, there was no chance he could see me yet.

Two months.

G od, has it been that long?

I made to slide off the barstool to work my way toward him when the crowd parted enough for me to catch a real glimpse of him, just in time to see the blood-red nails on a feminine hand reach up to cup the back of Nate’s neck and pull him toward her.

In time to see him lean in to plant a lingering kiss on her lips.

I stopped cold, frozen to the spot.

My stomach sank and settled heavily in my gut. Their kiss probably only lasted a second, but it could have been an hour.

I saw it in my head like a scene in a shitty drama show: a girl I’d never seen before wrapping her arm around Nate’s neck, kissing him with all the confidence in the world, Nate kissing her back with a hand resting on her waist. And me, stunned on the other side of the crowd, caught like a deer in headlights.

What. The. Fuck.

I came to my senses a second later and settled back into my seat, looking down at my phone as if I were answering a text. As if I didn’t just see the man I wanted to confess my feelings for kissing someone in front of me and all our friends.

How many times had I wished he would kiss me out in the open like that?

I wanted so badly to ignore him.

I scanned the crowd, unsure of what to do with my hands, my face, and settled on Gemma as she shot daggers at the back of Nate’s head. She had my back, even if she was hammered drunk .

I willed Nate and his friend to move further away, but they maneuvered closer, weaving through the packed crowd until they were only a few feet away. I couldn’t force my ears to mute the sound of Nate’s smooth voice as he spoke.

“Hey, man.” He clapped Grant on the shoulder and pulled him into a bro-ish half-hug.

My eyes stayed glued to my phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” his voice carried over the music. My elbow came to rest on the tabletop in a ridiculous attempt at hiding my face. The urge to find a quiet place to hide was overwhelming. “I was waiting for her to get off work,” Nate went on. “This is my girlfriend, Blair.”

My eyes went wide. If he said anything after that, I blocked it out.

I gave myself one heartbeat to absorb the blow of his words.

Girlfriend.

Embarrassment—hot, sticky, weighty embarrassment—sank deep into me. An angry, blotchy flush burned my skin as it rose up my neck, speeding to my face.

I glanced at the time flashing in the upper left corner of my phone.

Ten-thirty is an acceptable time to head out, right? It is now. It has to be. I am so fucking out of here.

I debated an Irish Goodbye, but that probably would’ve hurt Gemma’s feelings, and likely Grant’s, too. But Nate was too close. There was absolutely no way I could avoid him if I said goodbye to Gemma.

Whatever. Let him see me.

I squeezed behind Gemma and rested my chin on her shoulder. “I think I’m gonna head out. I’m not feeling well.”

She whipped around, her blonde hair arcing behind her, and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m going to fucking kill him. ”

I shook my head against her neck. “Nope. It’s fine.” A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

Fuck that. I’m fine. Everything is fine.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine . Have fun, okay?”

“Grant!” she yelled in my ear, swinging her arm back to nudge Grant in the back. “Oli’s leaving.”

“Olive, no!” Grant pulled me out of Gemma’s arms and held my shoulders. “It’s my birthday! You can’t leave yet. You have to stay here and sing to me.” His glossy, bloodshot eyes looked adorably like a sad, drunken puppy dog.

“She isn’t feeling well,” Gemma reasoned.

Grant’s frown deepened. I couldn’t help but crack a smile looking at him.

Nate stood in my periphery, running a hand through his dark mop of hair.

“Happy birthday, buddy.” I patted Grant’s chest. “I’m going home and going to bed.” He’d get over it within minutes, or when the next round of shots came.

The fake smile I’d plastered on fell as soon I turned my back to everyone.