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“A day.” I huff. “You lasted a day.”
Nate keeps me laughing all the way back to my apartment, mainly at his expense, but it still counts. Climbing out of the car and grabbing my bag, I lean in. “See you in the morning.”
“Bring coffee!” he yells as I close the door.
I’ve secretly been dreading coming home, and now that I’m watching the elevator numbers rise, I wish I were anywhere but here. I haven’t told Nathan, but Aaron has been ignoring me since I told him about my new skating arrangement when I got home last night.
If that wasn’t enough, what Nathan said about my meal plan has been playing on my mind since this afternoon. Blame where it’s due, I’ve never shown any interest in learning about nutrition. When I lived at home, my mom dealt with it, and at college, I let Aaron deal with it and trusted he knew what he was doing.
I know Sabrina is at rehearsals, which means Aaron should be alone, hopefully giving me the perfect opportunity to talk to him. Emphasis on thehopefully.
Letting myself into the apartment, I immediately spot him on the living room couch, watching a movie.
“Hey.” He turns his head, looking at me, but doesn’t respond. I swallow the lump forming and wipe my sweating palms against my stomach as I approach him. “Can we talk?”
Again, he doesn’t respond, but he pauses his movie and looks at me when I sit on the couch, dropping my gym bag at my feet.
“Uh, I was just wondering…Do you think my meal plan has enough calories? And is, like, I dunno, varied enough and stuff for me to be healthy?”
“Why the fuck are you asking me that?” he snaps.
Taking a deep breath, I shrug. “It just came up today, and it was sorta suggested that I’m undereating. I wanted to run it by you, so we cou—”
“Suggested by who? Hawkins?” The way he says Nathan’s name is borderline poisonous. “You suck his dick a couple of times and suddenly he knows what you need better than I do?”
His words knock the wind out of me. I splutter and choke on what I want to say, surprised. Astounded is a better word for what I’m feeling right now. As that feeling dissipates, the hurt sets in.
“What? No? Why are you being so mean? I only wanted to check with you, so we cou—”
Interrupting me again, he stands from the couch, dragging a hand down his face. “You know what, Anastasia? Fuck off. If Nate Hawkins is so fucking smart, go rely on him for everything.” His hands are shaking, eyes burning into me. “But when he gets bored of you, don’t come crying to me because you’re the one who drops your panties for anyone in a jersey!”
My heart bangs in my chest as he storms toward his room, slamming the door so harshly it’s like the whole building shakes. Sinking to the couch, I reach into my bag, pulling out my phone.
“Miss me already?” He laughs when the call connects.
Wiping the tears away with the back of my hand, I clear my throat. “Can you pick me up?”
TWENTY-SIX | NATHAN
“Pinch of saffron.No, a pinch. A pinch, Robbie! That isn’t a pinch!” Anastasia takes a deep breath, forcing a smile as she fishes out the mountain of saffron Robbie just added.
“My bad,” he mumbles, taking a real pinch this time.
“It’s okay. Sorry for shouting.”
Stassie is teaching Rob how to make tajine zitoune, which is Sabrina’s favorite meal. I bet Stas ten bucks she’d lose her cool with him before the food was cooked. It’s a chicken dish with olives and vegetables, which Stas claimed would be easy for him to make, but I think he’s sweating from the stress, and every time she’s about to say something, her eyes flick to me first, and she says it calmly.
Brin feels a bit homesick knowing she’s not going back to New York for winter break. Her family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so her parents are traveling to Algeria to visit family, and she doesn’t want to stay with one of her brothers.
Robbie was supposed to be traveling home with me, but after speaking to his parents last night, they’re going to come here. Reece, Robbie’s older brother, is a bodyguard and is currently deployed overseas, so he won’t be home anyway, and they’re looking forward to a warm Christmas.
He hasn’t told Sabrina yet, which might be why he’s suddenly motivated to make her favorite meal.
“You’ve got to let it all get to know each other in the tajine,” Stassie explains semi-patiently. “But you can’t let it burn because I did that when she taught me, and she got super mad.”
“No burning. Friends in the pot. Got it.”
Walking around the counter, Stassie slides into the seat beside where I’m working, reaches for her textbook, and resumes studying.
