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He scoops me back up and heads toward the stairs, being careful not to rock me around too much. “Uh-oh is right. Poor kid, he’ll get over it, though, don’t worry. I think he’s going to live here next year, so you’ll have plenty of opportunities to make it up to him. Russ and Henry are becoming friends, I think.”
Nate lowers me onto his bed and wraps me up in the covers until I’m the equivalent of a human burrito. He’s looking at me so lovingly, and in that moment, it’s hard to think about our differences.
“Nathan?”
“Yes?”
“I need to be sick, but I can’t move my arms or legs…”
He frantically unwraps me and watches as I sprint toward the bathroom, and I don’t know what he does while I violently expel everything in my body, but I imagine it’s along the lines of being grateful to have such a graceful girlfriend.
Nate showers me, puts me back in bed, makes me food, and heads to the gym, and I stay in bed, feeling sorry for myself, with a book.
I must have dozed off because I jump when he comes through the bedroom door, looking sweaty, having apparently been gone a while.
“You good?” he asks, dropping his gym bag at the bottom of the bed.
Before my impromptu nap, I’d been reflecting on the past twenty-four hours and quickly came to the conclusion I had an apology to deliver. “I’m sorry I was snappy with you yesterday.”
“You apologized last night, don’t worry about it.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, about thirty times. Then you tried to seduce me, which I politely rejected—sorry. You were far too drunk to be doing anything other than sleeping.”
Sinking farther into the duvet, I feel the heat creep to my cheeks. “Doesn’t sound like me. You sure?”
He hums a “Yep,” smirking to himself. “You were very graphic with what you wanted to do to me. Told me my dick is the prettiest you’ve ever seen.”
Peeking over my duvet shield, he looks so happy. “It is, to be fair.”
Sitting beside my legs, he rubs his hand up and down my shin gently. “Listen, you always want me to be honest with you, so I am. It’s bugging me that I don’t know how yesterday went with Aaron. Can we please talk about it?”
“Of course.” Nathan doesn’t say a word while I’m talking; he sits in silence, listening carefully. When I’m finally done, he still doesn’t say anything. I shuffle nervously on the bed, nudging him with my foot. “Well?”
“Couples therapy?”
“Sports partner therapy.”
“He’s up to something.” Nate crawls up between my legs, wiggling until he’s positioned with his head on my stomach. “I don’t want to upset you again. It’s never about you, baby. I’m sorry if I made you feel like it was.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t like it.”
“I know that too.”
“I’m trying not to make him an us issue. I just get annoyed and it’s hard to see past it.”
“Nate…”
“Yeah?”
“Get off my stomach, I’m going to be sick again!”
FORTY-FOUR | NATHAN
The first twoweeks of term have been an absolute blur of hockey sticks, assignments, and sheer panic that Aaron is going to upset Stassie.
