I pick up a luminous yellow shot, the colour reminding me of the medicine I used to have to take as a kid if I were poorly. They lied and said it was a banana, but it definitely wasn’t. The shot glides down my throat, and I’m surprised at the pineapple flavour that follows. I look at Nate and smile. “I want to learn something new. I don’t know what, but I want to learn.”
He scribbles that down too and points to another shot.
I pick it up, green and toxic-looking, and I raise my brow at him. “You too, Mr X-Factor. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”
“Does outside my family count, because I’m a pretty open book?” He shrugs, and I nod. “I…struggle with things sometimes. Growing up, I was always told by teachers and coaches that I was too much and stupid because I’d mix things up and other stuff. It was only when my mum got me some help that I was diagnosed as being dyslexic.” He takes a swig of his beer but doesn’t look at me.
“Thank you for telling me.” I down the toxic green sludge. “I want to do a safari.”
Nate bursts out laughing at this one. “Why a safari?”
“When I was a kid, my granddad would talk about all of the other countries he had been to and all of the things he had seen, and nothing stuck out more to me than seeing animals in the wild. Not cooped up in a zoo, but where we’re the ones in a tin can, and they’re roaming free, but growing up, we didn’t have time for holidays, so-” A flash of pity flickers across his face, so I shake my head. “No. Don’t throw any pitying looks my way.”
He writes it down, then takes another drink of his beer. “I always wanted to see icebergs when I was a kid, and I was furious when my mum said we couldn’t.” His face is so serious that it makes me laugh.
“Icebergs? Why?”
He shrugs. “Kate and Leo. Next shot.” Wow, no messing around with him then.
I knock back another of the yellow shots. “I want to learn how to cook, and I don’t mean simple things, I mean I want to learn how to make fancy-sounding dishes that I can’t even pronounce.”
“Cooking class. Got it.” He writes it down. “Did your mum never teach you?”
Like a bucket of iced water has been thrown over me, I sober. The lightheaded feeling of fun disappears at the mere mention of my mother. I shake my head. “Nope. I’m going to the bathroom.”
I leave Nate sitting at our table, his shoulders slumped, and his brows pulled together in confusion. Part of me wants to go back and apologise for rushing away and cutting him off, but I don’t. I push through the doors to the bathroom and stand over the sink, hanging my head as my hands hold me up. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Willing myself not to cry.
Memories of being my mother's daughter are suddenly assaulting me from all sides. Her expectations, her cutting words, the pressure–did I deserve that? Did I deserve any of this? And naturally, because my brain is fucking cruel, I think of Pete. Another person on the endless list of people who have dramatically altered my life. But I'm the common theme here, right? Is it my fault? Did all of this happen because of me?
The door bangs against the wall, the noise reverberating around the room, and my head snaps up as Nate stalks in behind me. His head dips under the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling it, his strong chest rising and falling as he stares at methrough the mirror. My eyes widen, but I don’t move; I’m rooted to the spot.
“You can’t be in here, Nate. This is the ladies' bathroom.”
He’s directly behind me now, looking at my reflection. “No shit, Sherlock. You left me, why?” I open my mouth to rebuff him, to deny it, but he cuts me off, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me, Hayleigh.”
Oh god, why did he have to say my name? My cheeks flush.
His eyes zero in, and he moves closer, and suddenly I’m a mouse caught in the sights of the cat. He takes his hand and brushes my hair from the side of my face and over my shoulder, baring my neck. He brings his face close to my ear, still looking at me through the mirror, and he whispers. “Why are you shaking, Hayleigh?” His brow furrows as his deep timbre vibrates through me.
I shrug a shoulder, not trusting my words, but my body gives me away as I push further back into him.
Ever so gently, he traces a finger from my cheek and down my neck, the trail lighting a fire in my veins as my eyes fall closed, and then I feel it. The lightest touch, a brush of his lips on my neck. The pleasure that zings through me is both exquisite and intense.
When I open my eyes again, my cheeks are flushed, my chest heaving, and Nate bites gently where my neck meets my shoulders. A moan escapes my lips, and Nate’s eyes flash up to mine, uncertainty swirling in them before he pulls away.
I almost want him to move back, but he shifts my jacket back in place. I hadn’t even noticed it was off my shoulder, then smiles at me in the mirror. “I think you shake because I scare your heart, but I won't always.”
When he walks out of the bathroom, my knees almost buckle, and I breathe easy again, but that throbbing ache between mylegs is still full force even as I make my way back to the table, the heady feeling of his lips on my skin still scorching my insides.
I sit, and Nate carries on like everything is normal and fine. He points to the whiskey sour. “Drink up, you’re up next.”
“Huh?” Oh god, Hayleigh, what the hell are you doing? Use your words, you doofus!
“You’re up next. I signed you up to sing. What’s next on your list?”
That heady feeling he gave me? Gone. “I can tell you whatisn’ton my list, Nate. I am not singing!”
He nods. “Oh, yes, you are. It’s a good song, I promise.”
