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Nathan likes me. Possibly even as much as I like him.
So, it makes sense that he doesn’t enjoy hearing about me planning on abandoning Virginia. Maybe he thinks part of the reason I’m leaving is that I don’t actually have anything more than a hint of a crush on him.
Wrong.
This guy is a drug I could easily spend the rest of my life addicted to. I want to drown myself in him. If I was guaranteed continuous doses of Lucifer for the rest of my college career, I would delete all those applications I sent out and start buying books for my next semester.
Problem is, there are no definite outcomes when it comes to infatuation. I found that out with Derrick. And the flutters I felt in my chest around my high school boyfriend are nothing compared to the flock of seagulls dive-bombing my innocent heart right now as I’m pushed up against my former nemesis.
When Derrick ended things, I spent a weekend crying. Letting myself fall all the way for Nathan risks a hell of a lot more pain if he decides I’m not the one for him.
And I have no safety net here.
Friends are good for more than just curing loneliness. One of my besties, Rachel, who I’ve known since kindergarten, was the one who coaxed me out of my house for the first time after my heartbreak. She got me laughing and convinced me everything would turn out all right. Then, we had a bonfire and tossed in all the pictures of Derrick and me. The way good friends do.
In Virginia, I’m on my own. If I let myself fall for Nathan and he didn’t catch me, there’d be no one here to help soften the landing. I’d be left a mangled heap on the hard ground.
I can’t risk that.
The bus lurches over a few speed bumps before coming to a stop. Our group spills out of the van and immediately heads into the yellow brick building.
Nathan has his smile back, nudging me and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“This is a great group of kids. One of them, Oliver, he’s so cute. He keeps these little toy cars in his pockets all the time. And Jessie, she’ll probably ask what your favorite color is. Don’t pick something lame, like blue. She wants specifics. Think Crayola box. And then Darnel—”
The details about the toddlers are hard to grasp when I have this new version of my nemesis to admire. His hands dance around, and his face radiates joy. Probably without noticing, he’s picked up his pace, like his body can’t wait to get into the school.
I have to jog to keep up. We end up being the first of our group to reach the classroom.
When Nathan told me about the Kid Kare Club he’s vice president of, I thought the idea sounded sweet. College students visit a local elementary school to hang out with some of the children who have to stay late as they wait for their parents to pick them up, giving the teachers a break.
I thought he might just be looking for something to stand out on job applications, but it takes less than a minute for me to realize he’s in this for more than just his résumé.
“Nathan!”
A group of the kids scramble from the floor and barrel into my companion.
“Jungle gym!” one of the little boys shouts as he grabs for my tall friend’s arm.
“Okay, okay!” Nathan laughs and then flexes his biceps.
I don’t understand what the douchey pose is for until the boy wearing a dinosaur shirt launches himself into the air and loops his tiny hands around Nathan’s right arm, swinging and giggling. A girl latches onto his left in the same way, screaming her joy. Two more boys commandeer his legs, hugging his calves as they sit on his feet.
He is engulfed.
As Nathan struggles to take a step with his new toddler outerwear, I realize I’ve never seen a larger grin on his scruffy face.
And, in that moment, I reach a deeper understanding about my nemesis.
A lot of people come to college because it seems like the next step they have to take in their life. Maybe they choose to come in undecided, or they pick a major that sounds kind of interesting, like I did with chemical engineering. Those people might grow to love their major, or perhaps they’ll try out a new one until something fits.
Nathan is not one of those people.
I know without a hint of doubt that he’s meant to work with kids. Somewhere in his genes, there’s a strand of DNA labeled Child at Heart. If he had to spend his nine-to-five toiling in an office, all of this light and laughter radiating out of him would be crushed.
Now, I’m not saying I’m at the complete other end of the spectrum, but becoming a living piece of playground equipment is not high on myfun timeslist. Instead, I trail behind Nathan as he shuffles across the room, weighed down by four monkeys parading themselves as human children. I enjoy watching him in his element while at the same time keeping myself separate.
Not that my ghost act lasts long.
