Page 13

I run my hand through my hair nervously and leave the room. Luke and Max are still unmoved from their spot on the couch, so I walk quietly into the kitchen, aware of Luke’s eyes on me. When I stand at the sink to refill my water glass, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

“I’m going to go out for a bit, if that’s okay,” I mutter.

“Of course.”

“You guys will be fine? Should I…should I order some food for when Max wakes up?” I’m already reaching for my phone when Luke shakes his head.

“I’ll handle it. See you when you get back? ”

I nod, glancing once more at Max’s prone form and Luke’s proprietary hand on his head.

He’ll be all right, I tell myself. Throat a little tight, and now feeling bad for leaving him after a rough day, I tug on my shoes and close the door gently behind myself.

Locking it, I fiddle with my keys for a second, suddenly feeling unsure.

Should I really be doing this? It’s unfair to be going over to Nate’s house for the express purpose of hooking up, knowing that I’m only doing it to make myself feel better. I’m using him, and I know that I am.

Biting my lip, I pull out my phone and see that there’s additional texts from Nate.

Nate

Hurry up! Drive faster.

Just kidding. But seriously where are you?

That does it. Decision made, I put his address into Google Maps and stride to my car, heart thrumming with nerves and excitement.

I’m fidgeting on the doorstep of Nate’s house, tugging down the hem of my shirt and scuffing the sole of my Converse on the concrete step.

Standing here, I’ve lost all the confidence I had back home and am once more having regrets.

What the hell do I think I’m doing? This isn’t me.

I need to quietly slip away and text him an excuse.

I need to let this Nate thing go, once and for all.

But since I’m already here, and it would be rude not to at least say hi, I should probably stay. Reaching my hand up before I can change my mind again , I rap my knuckles on the door. It opens so quickly, I take a step back, startled.

“Hi,” Nate says, smiling so widely I could count his teeth if I wanted to. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I was standing on the other side of the door, waiting.”

He laughs at himself, stepping backward to give me room to walk inside. I avert my eyes as I pass him, once more finding it hard to look at him. It’s like staring directly into the sun. I am so out of my league, it’s not even funny.

“How are you?” he asks, closing the door. I shake my hands out, trying to dispel some of my nerves. I haven’t even said hi yet.

“Hey, I’m…fine. How are you?”

He steps closer to me, drawing my eyes away from the floor and onto him.

Fuck, but he’s handsome. He’s wearing an SCU basketball shirt and a ratty pair of cotton shorts that look like they are several washes past their expiration date.

They’re short enough that I can see the vivid tan lines on his muscular legs.

A solid demarcation between his pale thighs and brown calves.

His brown hair is a little messy, and when he sees me looking, he reaches up to touch his fingertips to the soft hairs above his ear.

His fingers are long and thin, but his knuckles look rough.

I can see a couple scars across the back of his hand.

I jolt when my eyes meet his and he smiles crookedly at me. Oh fuck me, he was talking.

“Uhm. What?”

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? This is sort of weird, isn’t it?” Nate laughs again, running a hand through his hair and biting his lip as he looks at me. I relax a little, comforted to know that he’s at least a little bit as nervous as I am .

“I was actually talking myself into leaving,” I admit, gesturing toward the front door. His face falls.

“You don’t want to stay?”

“No, I do, but…I probably shouldn’t.” There were things I was going to say—well-thought-out reasons I was going to give—and now I can’t remember a single one. I can’t leave. How could anyone leave Nate?

“Please stay,” he requests, putting a hand on my shoulder as though he’s going to steer me further into the house. I glance down at his fingers, proud of how I didn’t flinch away. He sees me looking and snatches his hand back. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” I came over here with the express purpose of feeling his hands on me, and frankly, I’m going to be disappointed if I don’t get it.

“Why is this so awkward?” He laughs, scrubbing his palms vigorously over his face.

“Listen, can I just kiss you? Because I think if we get that out of the way, it’ll be better.

Unless that’s not why you’re here, which is fine too.

We can do whatever. But if you’re here to hook up, I’d like to request kissing be involved, because?—"

I cut him off by putting my hands on his hips and scrunching his shirt up in my fingers.

Using the grip to pull him none-too-gently toward me, I tip my chin upward once his chest brushes mine.

Nate inhales in surprise. Taking this as precisely what it is, he doesn’t hesitate to cup my face in his hands and lean down to kiss me.

It takes me a second to kiss him back, distracted by the fear of how I’ll react to his hands directly on my face.

But instead of that familiar prickle of discomfort and the rush of vertigo, I’m treated to a delightful swoop in my stomach, like I’ve missed a step walking down stairs.

It’s a good feeling, for once. A normal one.

Wanting to take advantage, I ruck up the hem of his shirt and put my own hands directly against his chest. He gasps and pushes me backward until I come up hard against the wall.

“Fuck,” he mutters, when I change my grip to pull him harder against me.

His hands are rough—calloused, like he’s no stranger to manual labor—and the scratch of those palms against the sensitive skin of my cheeks is heady.

I so rarely get to experience this, I want to take it while I can. I want more.

Breaking my mouth away from his, I kiss frantically down his neck and pull on his shirt.

“Can we take this off?”

He huffs a laugh, but immediately yanks it over his head. Before I can move to put my hands on every inch of his torso, he palms my face once more and tips my eyes up to meet his. My chest tightens at the look of unmistakable longing in his stunning eyes. Longing for me .

“Do you want to?—”

“Yes,” I agree, leaning forward to try and kiss him again. He laughs, and the warmth of his breath against my lips sends my heart galloping.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says after a time, stepping backward and running a thumb across my cheek before letting go. “The walls are great, but I’ve got plans for you in an actual bed.”

Scooping up his shirt, he tugs it back on as though uncomfortable walking around half naked.

I flush, a little embarrassed by my eagerness to get his clothes off.

He makes a move like he wants to reach for my hand, but swings his arm away instead.

I shake my head and grab his forearm, sliding my hand down to his.

“It’s fine. You can touch me.” His face lights up at the words and he gives me a solid tug toward the staircase, stepping to the side so that I can precede him up.

He looks as happy about the news as I am.

I feel like we need to hurry up, because it’s possible I’m running on borrowed time.

It’s possible that in ten minutes, the rough texture of his hand against mine will make me want to vomit.

Please, just give me this. Let me enjoy this, I beg the universe.

“Okay, so I’m not quite done packing. I promise I’m not usually this messy,” Nate says, interrupting the stern talking-to I was giving myself.

He reaches forward to open the door, letting me into his room, a slightly sheepish look on his face.

Given the way the clothes are scattered about, and the suitcase is lying open in the middle of the floor, it looks like the thing exploded.

My lips twitch, automatically trying to curl into a smile at the sight.

Why is it that the things that usually annoy me seem to be attractive and adorable when Nate does them?

“Want me to help you pack?” I offer.

“Oh my god, no. I want you to get naked.”

He demonstrates this by tucking his fingers through one of my belt loops and tugging. Glancing over at the wall, I put one hand on the button of my jeans and reach the other toward the light switch. Nate catches my wrist.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Turning the lights off.”

He stares at me, incredulous. “What? No! How will I see you?”

I don’t point out that not seeing me would, in fact, be the whole point of turning the lights off. The room is bright with the overhead light on. Getting naked in this room is going to leave nothing to the imagination. I clear my throat.

“Well…if you’re sure.”

“Of course, I’m sure.” He huffs, fingers trailing lightly down my abdomen .

I’m not someone who blushes easily, but this manages to make my cheeks heat.

It’s not that I’m shy, really, but there’s a difference between getting naked in a locker room and getting naked in front of someone you’re probably going to have sex with.

Especially when that person is Nate, whose body looks like it was chiseled from marble by Michelangelo.

While I, on the other hand, have about as much muscle definition as Gumby.

Pulling my shirt up over my head, I drop it carelessly to the floor and keep my attention on Nate as he strips down. He undresses quickly, and is down to his underwear before I’ve even undone the fly on my jeans. Putting his hands on his hips, he grins at me.

“Need some help?”