Page 33 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Now

Sometimes I wish I would keep my mouth shut.

I ’m not sure what compelled me to keep walking. My feet carried me over the uneven terrain between the rows of vines, closer to Nate as he scribbled away in the notebook I’d seen a thousand times.

His brows drew together as he concentrated.

The profile of his familiar, handsome face—his straight nose, the angle of his jaw—took the breath out of my lungs.

He eventually closed the leather-bound notebook, shoved it into his back pocket, and raked a hand through his hair.

Head bent, he watched his sneakers as he started walking again, instead of the beauty of the vineyard around him.

I chewed the inside of my lip, thinking it better to turn around before that sinking, unsettled feeling from earlier returned, but I didn’t. I remembered my guilt and followed, closing our distance in a few short seconds.

“What are you doing up so early, Cassidy?”

He whipped around at the sound, hair falling over his forehead with the movement. As he pushed the locks back into place in that classically Nate way, I spied a small tattoo of the Crescent Light logo peeking from under the sleeve of his black zip-up. It was new.

He huffed a laugh that was more like a sigh when his eyes focused on me. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Nodding, I tugged at the sleeves of my sweater. “Me neither.” I shifted my weight, thinking I should explain my sudden appearance. “I went out hunting for some tea and saw the paths down here.”

“Yeah.” He glanced toward the far-away main building. “I was hoping to find some coffee, but the cafe wasn’t open yet. Thought a walk would do me some good.” His eyes shifted to mine and back to his feet on the path as he tentatively took another step. “Do you… wanna join me?”

I hesitated, knowing I should say no, but felt pulled forward anyway. I fell into a slow pace beside him, the path so narrow, our arms ghosted past each other with each step.

“So, how’ve you been?” I didn’t dare to look at his face but settled on making eye contact with his shoulder.

“I guess I didn’t ask you last night.” My steps slowed to a halt.

“I’m sorry, by the way. I know I was being a dick.

” He mirrored my movements, slowing and half-turning to face me.

“I just… I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see you. ”

His eyes dropped to his shoes again. “I’m not sure how to respond. I mean, you did tell me I wasn’t allowed to look at you or smile at you, and I wouldn’t want to break your rules.” He lifted his gaze enough that I could see the amusement twinkling in his eyes.

I tsked. “See? What a dickish thing for me to say.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Oli, it’s fine.” He chuckled. “I probably deserve it.” He took a casual step on the path again. “And I’ve been good. Really good. The band’s doing great. We, uh—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We have our first European tour coming up soon. So, that’s exciting.”

I pretended I didn’t already know. As a writer for The Mountain , it was my job to keep my finger on the pulse for groups on the rise like Crescent Light. Not that my personal tie to the band didn’t have me keeping tabs anyway.

“Nate, that’s huge—congratulations. You should be really proud of yourself; you guys deserve it.”

His lips pressed into a wide, close-lipped smile, and I had a perfect shot of his dimple as it flashed. My eyes lingered there, savoring the familiar sight before it disappeared again.

“Still liking Boston?” he asked.

So much to say, yet so much I didn’t want to say.

So I settled on, “I love it.”

It was weird making small talk with Nate. We’d always somehow been beyond it. Too good for it, even that very first night. He’d always had a knack for jumping right into conversation like we were lifelong friends.

This? This wasn’t us.

This felt like we were actors on a stage, dramatically playing the role of two people who’d always been platonic, friendly acquaintances.

Not fuck buddies who turned into friends, who fell apart and became strangers who still unfortunately had mutual friends and were forced to be in the same place from time to time.

But there we were.

“So,” he began a while later, once we’d turned back in the direction of the main path to the resort. The shift in his tone sent my alarms off, and I knew his words before he said them. “That guy you’re here with. ”

It was bound to come up. Nate could never resist asking the tough questions. I nodded slowly. “Kieran.”

“Is that the same guy you were so upset about? Back when—”

“Nate,” I warned, my memory flashing to that last night Nate and I spent together. Every time I remembered it, my chest hollowed.

“What?” He huffed a lackadaisical laugh, feigning nonchalance, but his eyes held a lingering seriousness. He wanted his answer.

I halted again to look up into his deep blue eyes. “Let’s not do this.” It was a stupid request on my part, but it was worth a shot.

He blinked and shifted his feet, the mask of aloof indifference slipping. “I’m just curious if that’s him because—”

“Yes,” I cut in. “Okay? Yes, that’s him.”

He pressed his lips into a hard line, recognition painting his brow. “Mmh.” He nodded tightly, saying nothing and yet saying everything.

The weight of his reaction sat heavily on my chest, but I didn’t turn away from it. Instead, I held Nate’s gaze for a long minute, unmoving and unblinking.

The space between us filled to the brim with all the things we weren’t saying, the things we should have said a long time ago.

I swallowed. “Look, I—”

His eyes flicked over my shoulder and settled on something behind me. “Speak of the devil.”

I glanced back before screwing my eyes shut and taking a big step away from Nate, increasing the distance between us.

We didn’t say another word as we walked the rest of the way to the path’s starting point.

Kieran loomed on the brick platform there, looking a little worse for wear with his disheveled hair and dark circles, but he waited patiently regardless.

When we neared the end of the trail, Nate hung back a step .

“Hey, you,” I said casually, keeping my tone light as I closed in on Kieran. “How are you feeling?”

Kieran held out an arm for me to walk into, circling it around my shoulders as he bent to kiss my temple. He held on a little tighter than usual, his lips on my hairline lingering for an extra beat. Just for Nate to see.

“Like shit,” he answered. “I was heading down to get something to eat. Figured I’d find you on the way.” He leaned a fraction closer so only I could hear. “Especially since you didn’t answer my texts.”

“Well, you found me.” I laced my fingers with his, which were still draped over my shoulders. I made to turn us away from the field when Kieran spoke again.

“Good to see you, Nathan.”

“Nate,” Nate and I corrected in unison. I cringed.

Nate’s eyes narrowed for a split second before he assumed a carefully relaxed posture, sliding his hands casually into his front pockets. “And it was Kevin, right?”

“Kieran,” Kieran said.

Nate nodded, blinking slowly. “Right.”

“Breakfast sounds awesome,” I said a little too loudly, patting Kieran’s side. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”

Thankfully, the dining hall for breakfast was on the far side of the main building, but Kieran kept his heavy weight against me the whole walk over.

“What were you guys talking about?” Kieran asked when we were out of earshot.

“Not much, just small talk. I ran into him on the trail.”

“It didn’t look like small talk. I’m telling you,” he said, lowering his voice and whispering into my hair, “that guy definitely wants you. ”

“Har har.” I rolled my eyes, but the pit in my stomach tightened all the same.

I hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did I feel like I’d just been caught red-handed?

Why did simply being around Nate make me feel like I was doing something scandalous?

Part of me wondered if I should’ve told Kieran the full story right then and there, but the other part of me thought it wasn’t worth dredging up the past. There was a reason Kieran and I didn’t talk about our exes in detail.

It wasn’t our style. And up until that point, it was never a problem.

It still wasn’t a problem.

Kieran shivered against the morning air, having neglected to grab a sweatshirt. “It’s cold out here.”

“It feels nice!” I argued. “It was much colder earlier when I first came out.”

“Good thing you had Mr. Cool Guy to keep you warm, right?” he teased, but the question lingered, mixed with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

I elbowed him.

He caught my arm, chuckling. “Careful. I’m still a little queasy. I might hurl.”

“Why in the world are we getting breakfast if you’re so hungover you might puke?”

“Because—” He waved to Michael when he spotted him sitting alone at a large table in the back of the sunlit dining room. “The best way to get over a hangover is to keep the party going the next morning.”

Michael had a comically large pitcher of mimosas already poised in the center of the table as we approached.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”