Part 97 (2/2)
”Charming, Nate. I'm a private person, that's all. I keep things professional; my life outside my job is my business.” I fold the board and wait for him to poke further.
”Fair enough. Will you stay for another drink while you wait for the sofa?” Nate holds out his empty gla.s.s. ”As I won, I get the bed.”
With a sigh, I stand and take his gla.s.s. ”Do you ever have a night when you don't drink, Nate?”
”No.”
”Why?”
”I'm a rock star.”
”You're not a rock star here.”
”I'm a bored rock star, but I'm still him.”
”No, you're not.”
”I think you'll find I am.”
I shake my head and walk over to the bar to pour myself another vodka, and Nate a whisky. ”Is George okay with you using his bar as if it's your own?”
”I'm paying for it all.”
”But still...”
Something catches my eye, half-hidden amongst the menus stored on a shelf beneath the bar. A white cord. I grab it. ”How did this get here, Nate?”
He pulls an innocent face. ”What is it?”
”My laptop charger! Did you hide it?”
”Why would I do that?”
”You tell me.”
I clutch the cord as he stands and approaches. ”Are there any crisps back there?”
”Yes.” I point at a half-empty box. ”Nate. Did you take it?”
Nate leans over the bar and grabs a packet of crisps from the nearby box. ”Okay. I took the charger. I wanted you to talk to me.”
”What about?”
”Anything you wanted.”
”Paris?”
”Apart from that.”
”Why you're a mess?”
”And that.”
”So you're admitting you're a mess.”
”Takes one to know one, Riley.” Our batting of words stops and we both retreat. I look away and Nate shoves crisps into his mouth.
”There's not much else to talk about outside of our working relations.h.i.+p, is there?” I point at his whiskey. ”Stay here and have a drink. I'm going upstairs, now I have my charger. When George and Val are done watching TV, let me know and I'll move onto the sofa.”
”Not staying to talk to me?”
”I don't feel like a Nate and Riley fight, no.”
”What if I promise to be nice?” He offers me a crisp.
I waver but the peace of the bedroom beckons. ”Sorry, Nate. I want some s.p.a.ce.” And to call Josh.
Nate huffs and rests his elbows on the bar. ”Sore loser, huh?”
”I am not, I just want some alone time.”
”Fair enough.” Grabbing his whisky gla.s.s, Nate returns to his position at the table under the window. The light above the table highlights his deep frown and pursed lips. ”Solitaire it is, then.”
I step out of the small bathroom and straight into Nate.
”Jesus Christ!” I half-shout, relieved I'm in pyjamas and not wandering around in a towel.
Nate sweeps a gaze over my ensemble. ”Do you have kittens on your pyjamas?” I pout at his obvious question. ”Pink kittens and rainbows. That is so cute!”
I bristle. Josh chose these; how dare Nate tease me. ”What did you want?”
”Sofa's free.”
”Oh. Right.” I search the room for the blanket Nate used the last two nights, and gather it in my arms. Not looking at him, I walk to the open door. ”Night, then.”
Nate closes the door and stands with his hand on the wood. ”Don't be stubborn. You can share the bed.”
”No, thank you.”
”Riley. The bed is big enough for both of us. I didn't touch you last time you told me to stop, and without an invite, I won't.”
Our eyes meet; the intensity I can never understand raw in them again. ”I can't, Nate.”
”Why not?”
”Because I'm fed up with you teasing me and the pa.s.sive-aggressive rude behaviour. Why would I want to get into bed with you?”
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