I like the message because I’m unsure of how to respond. Friends sound nice, but I need to figure out this Nathan thing first.
The thing is, nothing we’ve done so far has helped. When we’re together, he always sits close to me. It’s comforting to have him so close to me. It sets my whole body on fire to have him so close but unable to touch him. However, I’ve not held back. Not completely. I’ve touched him as often as possible with little touches. I keep hoping he’ll respond to one of them and save me the trouble. That’s wishful thinking.
I shove my phone back in my pocket, and it immediately buzzes again. I sigh and pull it out; I don’t have the emotional energy to do this tonight. Work might not follow me home, but figuring it out during the day is exhausting.
Nathan Winslow
Still on for tomorrow night?
Me
Definitely
I’m picking the movie
There haven’t beenany complaints about my choices so far.
Maybe I should let him pick? That’s what people do, right? Before I can overthink it, he likes the message. Now, I need to pick out something good. I’ve been suggesting various films I remember seeing as kids. Most are ridiculous, but I don’t care. I love seeing him laugh at the cheesy jokes and ridiculous plotlines.
We’re doing all of this as friends, though. It no longer feels like a friend thing, but we haven’t found what it is. That’s why I’m turning down dates, not because they interfere with our time but because I can’t imagine being with anyone else.
I flop down on my couch—the one Nathan picked—and close my eyes. “Stop being such a chicken,” I say aloud. I need to talk to Nathan. He took the risk years ago, so it’s only fair that I take it now.
I guess Friday night is going to be eventful.
Chapter Twelve
NATHAN
I double-checkthe recipe on my phone to ensure I’m not missing anything. My phone screen dims between steps, and I’m convinced I’ve missed a critical step each time I turn it back on. I take a quick taste off the spoon to be sure it’s edible. Not too bad, considering I almost got stuck working late—again—and ordering takeout. Colt might not care, but I do.
Other than the late nights at work, which are hopefully temporary, my life is pretty good. I have wonderful friends, a job I love, and a home. So why did everything seem so much better now that Colt had waltzed back in?
I still don’t have an answer when Colt knocks at my door. “It’s open,” I yell, not moving from the stove. I don’t want to seem overly eager. Despite the guys pushing me to have an honest conversation with Colt, I’m not sure I’m ready for the conversation tonight. I hear the thunk of his shoes followed by footsteps. I’ve watched him do this enough times now that I can picture the way he toes off his shoes without bothering to untie them.
He sets a six-pack of beer down on the counter. “You know, we can always order something. I don’t mind.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I stir the pot on the stove several times before turning off the burner. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you eat garbage seven days a week?”
“A great one.” He grins and hops up onto one of the stools. “I’m trying to do better, but healthy eating always falls toward the bottom of the list.”
I click my tongue at him. “Taking care of yourself should always be at the top of the list.”
“Oh really? So tell me what you had for lunch today?” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I wince. He’s got me figured out.
“Coffee?” I did try, but with the pressure of doing work for the fundraiser and doing my regular job, skipping lunch became a regular thing. It wouldn’t be as much of an issue if I ate breakfast. At best, I manage a granola bar on my drive to the office. At worst, I sneak a few pieces of candy from the bowl in the office waiting area. I didn’t have a lot of room to lecture anyone on healthy eating.
“Coffee’s not a meal.
“Lucky for both of us, dinner tonight has vegetables and whole grains.”
Colt scrunches up his face. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Any chance you want to reconsider and order takeout? My co-workers were talking about a new Chinese place.”
“Not a chance.” I smack his arm with a stack of napkins. “This is done. Why don’t you grab the dishes and set the counter while I finish.” He opens his mouth but snaps it shut.
He reaches into the upper cabinets and grabs a couple of plates. His shirt rides up as he does, revealing a strip of skin across his abdomen. I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help it. He might not pay much attention to his diet, but he makes up for it by running. My mind conjures images of stripping him nakedand getting to lick a stripe up from his belly button to his chest. Does he like his nipples played with?
“Nathan?”Shit.He’s obviously tried to get my attention a few times.
