Part 109 (1/2)

This is exhausting me too. My addiction to s.e.x with Nate has me paying babysitters so Mum doesn't judge or refuse, and sneaking off for late nights with Nate before stumbling home in the early hours. Tonight is my ”official” night off when Mum babysits, but I'm hesitant to stay with Nate overnight and face questions later.

An evening in bed with Nate is usual, but now the time spent isn't the physical level we told ourselves it would be. Some evenings, we curl up together and chat about the world existing beyond the borders of the band and my job, or we mock each other's taste in movies and fight over who chooses what we watch. Gradually the life in Yorks.h.i.+re catches up; covering this Nate and Riley with the peace we created together. Three weeks in and what began as once a week is now five days out of seven. And what we told ourselves would be a month of casual s.e.x is becoming more.

The evening ends in Nate's bed, with the usual weird silence that should be more awkward than it is.

”What time is it?” I ask and roll onto my side to grab the nearest phone. Midnight. ”I should go.”

Nate grabs my arm as I make to get out of the bed. ”Why? Stay.”

”I don't know...”

”I've seen what you look like in the morning, if that's what you're worried about.” He grins at me.

”Like I care.” I muss my hair up so it hangs in my face, and Nate laughs.

”Don't girls like the waking-up cuddling and c.r.a.p like that?”

”I do. But-”

”But you always have to leave.” Nate flops back and looks up at the ceiling. ”Is it just me you're scared of getting close to, or anybody?”

I ignore him and pull on his discarded s.h.i.+rt. ”I need a drink. Want anything from the kitchen before I go?”

He stares at the ceiling. ”Beer.”

I stand in Nate's small kitchen and hold in tears. I want this. I want him. But this pretence will never make the transition to reality. I fill a gla.s.s with water, and a tear escapes. I scrub it away and open a beer for Nate, aware of the weird pattern of domesticity we're falling into. Why the h.e.l.l did I start something that will destroy me when it finishes?

Nate hasn't moved from his position on the bed, the blue sheet moulding around his hips and chest. ”For you.” I pa.s.s him the beer.

”I was engaged once.”

His words come from nowhere as I drink, and I swallow the mouthful before my incredulity sends the water spraying over him.

”You were? You kept that quiet. When?”

”Not recently.”

The girl. ”What happened?”

”I didn't get married.”

”Oh.” Does Nate want me to ask more? To tell me more?

He lets out a soft laugh. ”I told you once before. n.o.body else knows, and you forgot, which is f.u.c.king hilarious. My second biggest secret and you were asleep when I told you.”

”Doesn't Will know?”

”No. n.o.body.”

I sit on the bed. ”Why are you telling me?”

”Dunno. Maybe so you know I'm not a heartless b.a.s.t.a.r.d incapable of a relations.h.i.+p.” He grips the beer; doesn't move or drink.

”Okay...”

”How about you?” He tips his head around and traps me in the intensity I've seen once, maybe twice, before. Nate's decision to share this with me is almost as big a shock as him telling me I already knew.

”I've never been engaged. Never really had a proper relations.h.i.+p. I told you, too busy.”

”Hmm.” He places his beer on the table next to the bed. ”So what's your secret? Because I reckon you have one.”

My scalp p.r.i.c.kles. ”None. I'm just a highly-strung commitment phobe.”

”Ha.” Nate props himself up on one elbow and looks at me. ”We're a good match.”

Yeah, because a relations.h.i.+p between two people scared of commitment due to past experiences is really going to end well.

”What are you trying to say, Nate?”

”We're pretending this is just s.e.x, aren't we?”

What I see in Nate's eyes recently is a world from the distant, hard look from weeks ago; and usually, if I catch glimpses of the open Nate, he always looks away. But this time the eyes fixed on mine search for answers.

”I think we always were,” I say and touch his face. ”Easier to say this is about s.e.x and nothing else than admit we could be more.”

”You think I feel more?”

”We both do. We hated each other. That's an emotion, and we've redirected it. That can't be replaced with nothing.”

Nate kisses me, sliding his lips against mine, and my pulse hikes. Are we finally doing this? ”Do you want more from this? Make things complicated.”

”Since when was s.e.x uncomplicated between two people who feel more about each other?” I whisper.

I wait for Nate to look away, to move from me, and push away what we both repress, but he doesn't. ”I want you. Us. You do too, or I wouldn't say this.”

I've been physically close to Nate over and over the last few weeks, looked into his eyes and seen glimpses of this; inadvertently shared the same. That time in the snow, we fell into a place we struggle to pretend doesn't exist.

”Same,” I say. ”I'd like to give this a go. I want the world to know about us, to know I'm not something you're trying to hide.”

Nate traces a finger across my lips. ”I want guys to know you're mine and to keep away.”

Uh. Not good. ”Where has this come from, Nate? Is this about the other day? About Mitch.e.l.l?”

Nate's jaw clenches. ”I don't like compet.i.tion.”

Wow. ”Is this possessiveness or jealousy, Nate? Neither is okay.”