Page 42 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Memories flashed of Nate’s hands wrapped around that beautiful girl. Blair. Him kissing her in front of all our friends, showing her off in a way he never did with me—in a way I craved.

“You still there?” He broke me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m here.” I mulled over what to say next, unable to continue until I knew there wasn’t another girl waiting on him to get off the phone. “You sure I’m not interrupting? You’re not recording? Or hanging out with a girlfriend? Or friends?”

He let out a short, dry laugh. “No, I’m, uh—” He paused a beat. “No. No girlfriend, or anything like that, Oli. I’m on the road right now, and service might be a little spotty, but I’m here, okay? I’m here. ”

I nodded, breathing a little easier.

He was letting me take the lead in the conversation, allowing me to offer as much or as little information as I wanted.

Never pushing. Never asking for more. It was appreciated more than he knew, and I didn’t want the conversation to end yet.

I wanted to hear his voice, even if it was only a minute longer.

“Do you want to hear something pathetic?”

He sighed a deep chuckle into my ear, a sweet sound I didn’t realize I missed so badly. Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck. “Yes,” he answered. “Always.”

“I went to one of your shows.”

A beat of silence, and I could almost hear his blink of surprise. “Really?” he asked. “When? Which show?”

“Two months ago, in Boston. I took a friend of mine to see you guys play.” I decided to leave out the details of why I went to their show. It didn’t matter now anyway.

“Really?” he parroted like he didn’t know whether or not to believe me. The noises behind him stopped altogether. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least stick around to say ‘hi’ after? Now I’m trying to remember if I did anything embarrassing on stage.” The smile in his voice was audible.

“I don’t think you did. The show was amazing. It was nice hearing all the old songs.” And a few new ones with lyrics that sounded a bit too familiar.

“Honestly, though, why didn’t you say anything?” He wasn’t going to let me avoid answering the question this time.

“Honestly?” I thought about it, tasting the truth on my tongue before saying it. It was bitter because the truth was that I was a coward. “I didn’t know what I would say to you. ”

The empty space between our words was filled to the brim with all the things left unsaid. I was being carefully selective with my words, and if I were a betting person, I’d say he was being just as selective.

“I can understand that.” He paused again, thinking. “I’m glad you called me tonight.”

I took a deep breath and nodded slowly to myself, realizing that the short-lived conversation with him was coming to an end.

When would we speak again? Would we ever?

Nothing had changed, not really. He was still Nate, determined to succeed in music, noncommittal and unbothered. And I was still me, chasing stability, honoring routine, never fully at ease. I reached to turn my car engine back on, resigned and numb, when he broke the silence once again.

“Wanna get a bite to eat?”

“What do you mean?”

“There you are.”

My head snapped up. Instinctively, I looked over my shoulder and behind my car, but only saw an elderly couple entering the restaurant hand in hand.

A pickup truck passed in the aisle to my left, but the parking lot was otherwise empty.

I peered over my other shoulder, out the back passenger windows, when movement in front of the car caught my eye.

I did a double take, and when my eyes adjusted, he was there.

In the stupid parking lot, striding between cars.

Nate Cassidy was walking toward me.

Long and lean, he had one hand up to his ear and the other shoved casually into a front pocket. I stared at him through the windshield, open-mouthed. He gave me a grin as he slowly rounded the front of my hood, ending the phone call .

I took a split second to close my eyes and gather my wits before pulling the key out of my ignition and gingerly opening the driver’s door.

“I thought you were on the road.” It was the only thing I could think to say as I climbed out of the car, knees shaking with the sudden onslaught of nerves. I didn’t meet his eye.

“I lied,” he said simply, holding the door open. “You sounded like you didn’t want to be alone, and you weren’t hard to find. There’s only, like, two restaurants over here.”

My chin trembled at his words. You sounded like you didn’t want to be alone. How much did he have to know me—the real, deepest parts of me—to know to say that? Those words held more truth than he could ever know. They were the exact thing I needed to hear.

That was the thing about Nate. He just got it. Got me . He effortlessly understood. It didn’t matter that we used to float into and out of each other’s lives, always just shy of lovers but somehow more than friends. We were somehow tethered together, in tune, even when we weren’t together at all.

“That was nice of you,” I whispered, holding back a new round of tears before they could fall. I ran my fingers through my hair, suddenly feeling exposed and self-conscious about the blotchy face I was sporting.

He stood patiently in front of me, waiting for whatever choice I would make next.

I didn’t know what to say to him, but I knew I did not want to spend more time getting lost in my thoughts.

There was no more capacity for self-loathing.

No fight left in the tank. So, I shook the lingering negativity from my head and slowly lifted my gaze to meet his deep blue eyes.

A small, reassuring smile spread across his lips, and a warm feeling bloomed in my chest. Without a word, he opened his arms to me .

I didn’t hesitate as I crossed the single step between us to close the distance.

He circled me in his arms, and I gave in languidly to the comfort of being near him.

Clasping my hands around his waist, I let my head fall against his chest. A long sigh escaped my lips when his arms tightened incrementally around my shoulders.

I breathed in his scent. He smelled just the same as he always did: leathery cologne, fabric softener, and Nate .

A new wave of emotion tightened my throat, but this time it wasn’t because of my shitty day. I just missed him.

“You okay?” His voice was muffled from his cheek pressed against the top of my head.

I nodded against his chest in response.

“You wanna eat and get drunk and forget about it?”

I thought about it for all of three seconds before nodding again. He huffed a laugh through his nose, placed a quick kiss on my hairline, and released me.