“Hey,” I greet back, and my voice sounds far too soft and sad for my liking.
It’s silent for a moment before Nate speaks again, as if he’s trying to get a read on me.
“Are you alright?” he finally asks.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I just…”
“I understand,” Nate says, but I know he doesn’t. He just doesn’t want to get sappy with me. He doesn’t want that kind of emotional intimacy, not that I can blame him.
I don’t necessarily want to get all emotional with him either; I just don’t know where else to turn. Nothing makes me feel as safe as he does.
This sudden realization has my eyes watering, my heart thumping angrily at the admission.
“Come here,” I murmur, doing my best to keep the tears from sounding in my voice.
“You just saw me,” Nate counters, and he sounds more awake now as he moves around on the other end of the line.
“I know, but I want to see you,” I admit. And as he says nothing back, panic sets in, and I continue to ramble. “Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m just, uh, horny. I’ve been hiding out at my parents’ because Julie’s in town and I—”
“I’ll be there in the morning,” Nate interrupts.
“What?”
“I just booked a ticket. I’ll be there in the morning.”
“Oh,” I mutter, my hands twisting the comforter under me just so I have something to do with them. “Thanks.”
“Is that all?” His tone is a little irritated, bored even.
“Yeah. That’s all.”
“See you tomorrow, then.” And then he hangs up, and I’m left to stare at my ceiling in the dark.
At least he’s coming. Tomorrow, I won’t be so alone.
Now I just need to figure out what to say to him when he arrives.
The sun is beating down on me, warming my skin and flooding my senses with the smell of sunscreen and grass.
People are moving along the streets, window shopping and eating on decorated patios, but I’m standing here like an idiot as I stare up at the hotel Nate always books.
How he can afford to come out here twice a month and book hotel rooms, I don’t know. I guess the Chastains pay him well.
But that’s the least of my worries. Now that he’s here, waiting for me just inside this building, I’m a bit nervous. I’m sure all that’s going to happen is some rough sex and some subtle cuddling, but it still feels more… intimate this time.
I called, and he came. This is not the routine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and as I pull it out, it’s Nate reminding me of the room number. Is he looking down at me now? Can he see me hesitating?
That’s somehow more embarrassing than fumbling once I’m in front of him, so I force my feet to move. Plus, if the topic does arrive, I can blame my emotional instability on Julian’s trip out here. I don’t have to explain that I’m fucked up for no reason.
I don’t have to give him honesty.
Once I make it up to his floor, before I can even manage to knock, the door is being pulled open.
Nate stands before me, his dark hair framing his face and his cat-like eyes narrowing in on me as he runs them over my entire body.
Like he’s checking for damage.
