I tilt my head. “That’s oddly specific. Maybe you could use some assistance in that department.”
Nate’s eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse you, Ms. Patel, my underwear drawer is a mess, how God intended.”
“Right. I’m sure God intended for you to have wrinkly underwear.”
He takes a sip of his beer, squinting at me over the rim. “Organized drawers are for people who have their lives together. I coach high school football and live with an emo teenager, I’m just trying to survive the week.”
Teenager?
“I bet he’s got a label maker in his nightstand,” Nate smirks when I smile into my drink, hiding it with a long bull of his own beer.
“Okay, I’m mostly joking.”
“Mostly?”
He shrugs. “We don’t get along. He thinks I’m a dumb jock, and I think he’s a know-it-all. It’s a mutual agreement.”
I nod, turning back to the scene across the yard. “Well, know-it-all or not, he seems to love Layla.”
“Yeah, he does,” Nate says, but his expression shifts, and there’s something in his tone, quieter than before, an edge of sadness.
The air between us feels heavier than before.
Since the first day of school, Nate’s been impossible to ignore. He’s loud in a warm way, happiness radiating offof him. But now, he seems subdued.
I know that I hurt him last week, and I’m sure he’s not used to being rejected. Who in their right mind would reject Nate?
Me, apparently.
I wrap my arms around myself and look around at the party. I wish things could go back to the way they were. Before I knew that he felt something for me.
It’s not real anyway.
“You alright over there?” Nate asks.
He’s sweet. He wouldn’t be if he knew the truth.
My traitorous mind tries to tell me that maybe he would be okay with it, maybe he would still want me, but I can’t listen to it. Not when I’ve spent my whole life trying to hide the truth, to earn kindness in a world that rarely offers it to people like me.
I take another sip, slower this time, and glance his way. He’s watching me with those earnest eyes and that stubborn, open heart. “You look like you’re somewhere else.”
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“I’ve been doing a bit of that myself lately.”
“I didn’t mean to make it weird.” I don’t even know why I say it. It’s only going to make things more awkward.
He doesn’t respond right away, looking out into the yard, as he lets out a sigh. “It’s not weird. Not really. Hurts though.”
My breath catches at the quiet truth that I doubt someone like him hands out easily.
And this time, he does look at me. “But I get it. You don’t owe me anything. I just thought maybe we could have something. Sounds stupid, I know.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “It’s not stupid.”
His shoulder stays close to mine, and I don’t move away. Idon’t know what this is, only what it can’t be.
But maybe, somehow, we can still know each other.
