Part 96 (1/2)
Yeah. Nate and his b.l.o.o.d.y 'yeah'.
”Obviously we've spent the last couple of years with different views on what happened.”
”Looks like it.” He picks up green plastic houses and slings them into the box.
”And there's what you said about me,” I continue.
Nate looks up from the box. ”Said what? To who?”
”Jax. Will. I don't know what you told them, but the whispering and sn.i.g.g.e.ring didn't go unnoticed. I bet you embellished the story.” I s.n.a.t.c.h the playing pieces from the board and throw them into the box on top of the houses.
”I've never told anybody what happened between us!”
”What didn't happen, you mean. Scared I'd ruin your reputation?”
”No, scared I'd ruin yours!” Nate snaps back.
”What?”
”Doesn't matter.” He picks up his empty gla.s.s. ”You win.”
I stare at the board covered in Monopoly money as Nate walks to the bar. I win? The game? Or the long game we've played?
”Do you know how f.u.c.king awesome it is being locked in a pub for a couple of days?” he calls. Nate fills his gla.s.s from a half-empty bottle. ”George is a top bloke. He gave me open access to anything, rocks to be rich, huh?”
I recognise his tactic, one I use myself. Change the subject and lead someone elsewhere. ”What do you mean, Nate?”
”That I won't run out of something to drink.”
”No. About Paris.”
”Screw it, you have the bed. I'll sit here and have a drink.” He rests his elbows on the bar. ”Then when the lovebirds head to bed, I'll sleep on the sofa.”
I walk over and put my drink on the bar opposite. ”You have one too, then?”
”Yeah. Cheers.” Nate lifts up his gla.s.s.
”Not a drink; a switch.” He tugs his brows together. ”In your head. I have one. Flick it the right way and you don't need to think or talk about what you don't want.”
”They're useful.”
”Are they? Recently, I've started to wonder.”
Nate rubs his fingers across his lips and in our exchanged look, I see more of Nate than I ever have since that day he laid himself bare. ”So have I, Riley.”
Our time in Paris I struggle to forget wasn't filled with lies. Hurt, immaturity and misunderstanding, but no lies.
12.
RILEY.
I sleep fitfully, awake at every creak, on alert for Nate carrying out his threat and climbing into bed with me. I wouldn't put it past him to annoy me out of bed by climbing in and teasing me.
He doesn't.
The last conversation we had cycles in my head as I drift to sleep. Nate apologised. Nate Campbell never apologises because Nate Campbell is never wrong. I'm not big on admitting when I'm wrong either; this is a big deal for Nate.
His comment about my reputation came out of the blue and I almost shot back that he's lying, but something in the way he looked at me told me he wasn't. His following sudden switch in topic is a tactic I also share. Underlying all this, we understand each other, and that vulnerability doesn't help.
His explanation about Paris confuses me. I honestly thought he knew what he'd done with the girl that night I refused him s.e.x and Nate behaved like that to punish me somehow. Does the truth change my mind about him? A little, but not enough. All the hurtful things said and done can't be wiped out by one conversation even if it did include an apology. Whatever he says, a big part of the c.r.a.p that happened between us is because I refused to screw him that night. Why else would he have thrown himself back into other girls? What did I expect? We'd never have worked out back then. We were different people; immature and coping with the world in our own ways. A way that doesn't include the maturity for proper communication, obviously.
Josh is more demanding when I speak to him this morning, asking when I'll be home. Outside, the sun s.h.i.+nes and the grey clouds have s.h.i.+fted, but the snow hasn't. Josh doesn't accept ”I don't know” from me because the times I usually use that excuse are the times I need to lie about where I am.
Josh hates when I'm away, and the guilt I carry at those times eats at me. Is this why he's difficult? Because I left him alone too much as a baby? I promised Josh I wouldn't go away longer than overnight again, and two days in Newcastle was already too long. The absence has stretched into a fourth day now, including the original trip. Mum, as always, takes the situation in her stride. Without her, I'd be a mess.
A bigger mess.
George and Val are downstairs when I head down for something to eat, and I hear them arguing. As I walk into the kitchen, they stop and Val immediately offers me a cup of tea from the pot stewing on the table between them.
”Any news?” I ask as I sit at the round table.
”George spoke to Peter in the village. They're hoping the ploughs can get through to them today, but it's unlikely they'll reach us.”
I lower myself onto a dining chair, frustrated tears gathering. ”Okay.”
”Now the snow's stopped, we can dig out a bit further, love,” says George, ”Get some fresh air.”
”I'll help.”
”Nah, us lads will organise that. You can help Val with dinner and clear up a bit.”
I blink at his s.e.xism; normally I'd retort, but this man has been good to me. ”Right. I'm not a great cook though.”
The door to the lounge opens and Nate stands with a blanket scrunched in his arms, the same as yesterday morning. ”If you're looking for something to do, Riley, I need my clothes washed.”
”What?”
”I only have one set. Spilled beer on myself last night.”
I scowl. ”How are you supposed to dig snow naked?”