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I’d never undressed anyone before, let alone out of bloody clothes, but still I gave it my best try, slowly unsticking first the shirt and then the slacks, getting him down to his jockeys. Although it definitely wasn’t the right moment, I still couldn’t help but appreciate his body.
Every inch of him was sculpted with muscle, and in nothing but his skivvies, I could tell he was definitely well-endowed. What our parents might think if they’d walked in on us. To his credit, Nate didn’t seem to really notice.
Not sure what else to do, I used about six of the wet wipes from the box on the night table to clean away the mostly dried blood, brownish and sticky on his skin.
“What happened?” I asked finally, unable to hold it in anymore.
“There was a gun. He was going to shoot me, wouldn’t wear a mask. I told him he had to wear a mask.”
“Someone was going to shoot you for that?!”
I was shocked, even though some part of me knew I shouldn’t be. There were tons of crazies out there just looking for a reason, honestly.
Nate just nodded, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched it.
“But they didn’t.”
“Said the safety was on, made him look.”
The last bit took on a mocking, school-yard tinge that sounded disconcerting coming from him.
“Then what happened?”
“I got the gun, knocked him down, and then -”
The striking motion he made with his hand and the blood on his clothes painted a rather vivid picture as to what happened. A clear, if unlikely, case of self-defense, evidenced by the fact I’d picked him up from the manager’s office, as opposed to the cop shop.
Leaving Nate on my bed, I went through the gap in the plaster to the Gattis side of the duplex and grabbed some clean clothes for him. Nate recovered enough to get them on himself, as I turned my back.
“Better?”
“A bit.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head in a way that immediately brought up a strong shot of empathy in me. I could only imagine what he must be going through. Not only nearly dying but doing what was needed to keep that from happening.
Detachment, which I finally understood was Nate’s M.O. all along, could only take you so far, and I’d never known him to be violent. Even on the football team, his main job was to run away, and avoid getting hit.
“Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure.”
It was what we did most days, usually after dinner, but I was more than willing to make an exception. He could probably use some normal.
“You pick,” I said.
“Right.”
Nate went over to my shelf, deciding to go old school, and picked out The World’s End. Putting aside my rule about watching The Trilogy out of order, I put it on, and when he leaned over and rested his head on me, I put an arm around him and the two of us cuddled on my bed in a way that still felt platonic, just me comforting a friend. Right up until he kissed me.
I’d heard people could go odd after a near death experience. Including wanting to get busy as a “fuck you” to death. I knew this in the back of my mind, but it wasn’t the main thing I was thinking about. Nate's hand went up my shirt and there was nothing in the world except that moment.
“Are you sure?” I asked, pulling myself away, just for a moment.
“Yes.”
That was all I needed. Diving back into a passionate kiss, I got on top of him, basically sitting on his lap. I hadn’t heard of ‘dry humping’ and honestly had no idea what I was doing as I rubbed myself against the warm bulge that had formed in his lap. Nate didn’t seem to mind either, putting his hands on my hips and gently guiding my movements. We had just gotten my shirt off when Mom knocked on the door.
“Coming,” I yelled, trying to ignore the irony as I hastily tugged my shirt back on and stuffed ironically Nate’s bloodied clothes under my bed.
“Hey, honey.”
“Hi,” I hoped she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks or hear my traitorous, racing heartbeat.
“I thought you’d like some popcorn and sodas.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
“That was nice,” Nate said, as I returned to the bed.
“The snacks or - the other thing?”
“Both.”
We commenced cuddling, with only the occasional kiss between mouthfuls of treats, so as not to set off my mom’s radar again. But even so, Nate’s hand remained resolutely on my ass the entire time, getting absolutely no objections.
Chapter Twelve - Nate
Hell could be other people, but whatever miserable so-and-so came up with that little chestnut needed to make some better friends. Not that the term seemed to fit the situation. At least not any longer. The desire for Elise was very real. As were our respective responses.
