Page 59 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Now

…And yet?

I stayed close to the reception hall doors, unable to breathe easily until I knew Martinez and Jared were back. When they finally returned ten minutes later, they looked like they’d just stepped outside for a quick smoke and nothing more.

“All good,” Jared said when he reached me, raising his voice over the music.

“Really?”

“Yep. He’s all tucked into bed. No worries.”

“How did you even know where we were?”

Jared shrugged. “I saw you pull him into the hall. Wanted to stay close in case things got ugly.”

Martinez came to my other side, hanging an arm over my shoulder.

I sighed, closing my eyes. “Thank you, guys. Please don’t say anything to Gemma or Grant. I don’t want this to cause any more of a scene than it already has.”

Martinez winked. “We got you, girl. Now, go have fun.”

Jared Christensen and Jaden Martinez. My heroes.

The opening notes of The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside” rang through the reception hall, and the dance floor surged with a fresh wave of wedding guests.

Pushing through the huge group, I wedged my way to the center until I located my beautiful bride.

Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and I wrapped my arms around my best friend in a spine-crushing bear hug.

Grant was there a second later, picking Gemma up by her waist and spinning her, scream-singing, “It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss!”

Words couldn’t express how happy I was for them. Had there ever been a more perfect couple in the entire existence of the world? No, I thought. I don’t think so.

I deserved what they had. I deserved something great. Really fucking great. Not just good enough.

I was finally present and in the moment. There was no regret. Not even a shred. In fact, I wasn’t sad at all.

I felt fucking great.

My friends and I crowded together as the song rounded out its final chorus—Grant and Gemma sharing a comically long kiss, Martinez, Jared, and Miles singing at the tops of their lungs. Even Leo took to the dance floor. The only one missing was…

I spotted Nate on the perimeter of the dance floor, smiling as he bit his lip and bobbed his head to the music. His brows rose when I approached him.

“Why aren’t you out there busting a move, Nate Cassidy?” I took up a spot at his side, nudging his arm with my own.

“Because I’m not sure they could handle me out there, Oli McLaren.”

I laughed at him and shook my head, letting my eyes linger on his dimple for an extra second .

A late 1990s alternative rock ballad faded in, the lighting shifting to a moody blue, and on the dance floor, friends and couples alike paired up.

“Do you wanna dance?” He tilted his chin to the center of the room.

I hummed, pretending to weigh the question. “I do love this song.”

Goosebumps rose over my arms at the first contact of his hand with mine. “Let’s go then.”

Surrounded by couples, Nate eased me closer and inched a hand around me until it rested modestly on the middle of my back.

His other held mine aloft, my fingers resting in the crook between his thumb and index finger.

We swayed with middle-school level stiffness, and I suffered middle-school level nerves when he stepped closer.

It only took a second before a melody of broken giggles bubbled up my throat, shaking my shoulders even as I held them back.

“What?”

I shook my head, another round of giggles escaping.

He cracked a smile, steering us to sidestep a passing couple. “Come on, what? Tell me.”

“I’m just thinking about the night we met. When you asked me to dance.”

“Oh god.” He laughed, a full burst that I eagerly drank in. “How could I forget? I was so nervous about it.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t get nervous.” You’re a rockstar, for crying out loud.

“Oh yes, I do. And I was very nervous that night.”

“Why?”

A sweet smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “Because you terrify me, Oli.”

I snorted. “Is that a bad thing? ”

“No.”

I hummed contentedly and leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder.

Nate’s arm encircled me further, lowering to rest comfortably on my waist. With the hand he was holding, he ran his fingers around the back of mine and held it against his chest. My heart squeezed, and I closed my eyes, relishing in the sound of him humming along to the song’s second verse.

Another laugh flew from my lips a second later.

“What now?” he asked, exasperated but grinning down at me as I lifted my head from his shoulder.

“Nothing. It’s just… surreal.”

He swallowed, nodding slowly.

Surreal was one word to use. I could have also said nostalgic, heartwarming, gut-wrenching, tender, sentimental—but as usual, words escaped me when it came to him.

The song crescendoed and slowed again to the end, and we took an extra beat together before pulling away, even as the DJ mixed in the next pop song.

When the rowdy crowd returned, he scratched his eyebrow, half-turning in place.

“Come on.” I pulled at his sleeve. “It’s still a party.”

And party we did. For the next hour, we sang, we ate cake, we watched as the crowd macarena’d, chicken danced, and cha cha slid.

Jared and Martinez owned the dance floor, making fools of themselves with the bride and groom, and I twirled right along with them.

When Gemma announced she needed a refill, I volunteered to get it.

Nate was already at the bar, dropping dollar bills into the bartender’s tip jar as I approached. I grinned when his eyes met mine.

“Drink duty?” he asked .

“Of course. A white wine and a water, please,” I said to the bartender, then propped an elbow on the bartop. “It’s my honor to keep the bride both tipsy and hydrated.”

“Very thoughtful,” he said with a casual sip of his beer. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re drinking, though.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “Vodka soda?”

“Vodka soda with lime .”

My eyes closed in recognition as I bit back a laugh.

“Are we in a celebrating-slash-‘fuck it’ mood, Oli?” Nate challenged with a twinkle in his eye. His hair had returned to its usual messiness throughout the evening and now hung over his forehead in that stereotypical Nate way.

The bartender slid Gemma’s drinks to me, and I shook my head at Nate, breaking into a full smile that mirrored his own. “Something like that.”

I peer pressured him into joining us on the dance floor, and when we returned, the whole group was finally accounted for.

We tore up the dance floor together, all of us celebrating, laughing at each other’s ridiculous dance moves, and living in the moment. When Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” started, every remaining wedding guest flooded in, squeezing together shoulder to shoulder.

I let myself fold against Nate, the movement so natural and familiar, and we sang at the tops of our lungs, lacing our fingers together as Neil Diamond belted, “Reaching out. Touching me, touching you.”

Is there anything better than a room full of drunk people screaming Bah! Bah! Bah! in unison while Neil Diamond serenades them? Probably. But in that moment, I couldn’t think of anything.

I’d missed this—the joy and levity of being surrounded by my friends.

The goofiness, the freedom from judgment, the love we all shared.

The desire to want nothing but the best for each other.

There was something special about when we were all together.

Like weird, jagged, mismatched pieces of a puzzle that shouldn’t fit together, but somehow do.

“It’s starting to clear out,” I said to Nate late in the evening as the crowd thinned. The room went from being packed only twenty minutes prior to being about a third full as soon as the bars made their last call and liquor stopped flowing.

“That it is.”

He watched me with that ever-perceptive, deep blue gaze. Studying me, like he always did. Always had.

A familiar fluttering started up in my belly.

I nudged his side with my elbow. “What?”

“I have a proposition for you.” Nate rested his forearms against the high-top table where we stood and leaned in.

“Oh gosh,” I sighed. His arm rested against mine, his body so close I could smell his intoxicating leather and laundry scent. But I couldn’t resist the urge to give him shit. “I’m tempted to say no right off the bat.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes but inching closer. “Look, Oli…” My heart never failed to thump harder when he used my nickname. “You need a room to stay in tonight, right?”

I rolled my lips together.

Crap. There’s no way I’m going back to the suite with Kieran there. Not tonight. I was so busy thinking about a game plan for getting home tomorrow, I didn’t consider where I would stay tonight. I can’t exactly crash with Gemma.

“Uh, yeah. I guess I do. ”

“Well, between you and me,” he said in a hushed tone, looking around conspiratorially, “I have a mighty large, very comfortable bed in that fancy-ass suite they gave me.”

I gave him a doubtful look, even as my pulse quickened.

Is he doing what I think he’s doing?

“Get that look off your face!” He stood straight, holding his hands out in front of him as if this was a well-prepared sales pitch. “Just hear me out, okay? There aren’t a lot of people I would trust not to murder me in my sleep if we shared a bed. And we’ve shared a bed lots of times, so.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, blinking once, twice. “Nate.”

“Oli.”

Can I be alone with him without doing something rash? Without making the same mistakes again?

“This—” I shook my head slowly. Unconvincingly. “This is a bad idea.”

He faced me head-on and put both hands on my bare shoulders with a sigh. “I know.”

“Like, it’s a very bad idea.” I swallowed.

He nodded. “I know.”

“It’s never worked with us, Nate. Never.”

He took a small step closer, letting his hands fall from the tops of my shoulders, gently pressing his thumbs into the bend in my elbows. “I know.”

“And it’s not going to start magically working now.” I tilted my chin up to look him in the eye. “You do realize that, right?”

His grin widened, revealing a brilliant, full smile. “I know.”

When he took a step back, I watched as he downed the rest of his drink and placed the glass delicately on the table behind him .

Circling me, he reached out a hand for me to take. “So, are you coming or not?”

I stared at it for a long moment, shaking my head in disbelief and biting back the ridiculous smile spreading over my face. But then a rightness settled in my gut. A surety. I loved him. And I was willing to bet he loved me back.

My heart thundered in my ears; butterflies took flight in my chest, and without another thought—without a single doubt—I put my palm in his waiting hand, and followed Nate Cassidy out the door.