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“Stop being stubborn.” He smiled and dipped his head to the side. “Come on.”
How was I supposed to fight against that?
I couldn’t. My entire body felt warm and weightless, buoyant, and I just wanted him to keep looking at me like that. Indulgent. Affectionate. Like I mattered, even just a little. So, with zero regard for self-preservation, I mumbled my thanks and fell into step beside him.
Christ, I was in so much trouble.
Three
~ Gage ~
The day of the tree lighting event arrived with overcast skies and temperatures near the freezing mark.
Since I didn’t have to be at the park until five o’clock that evening, I spent the day catching up on chores. I cleaned my place from top to bottom, including my oven, which I rarely used. I did a couple of loads of laundry. I changed the sheets and blankets on my bed, despite having just done so two days before.
Once I ran out of things to clean, I showered and changed out of my sweats, donning a pair of boot-cut jeans and a cable-knit sweater. Not what I would typically wear for a trip to the supermarket, but I no longer knew who might be watching, and I didn’t want to embarrass Nathan. Even when he wasn’t with me.
Our first date had been eye-opening, to say the least. I had assumed that because it had been a spontaneous decision, no one would be there to document it. In fact, I had been banking on it, hoping it would give us time to get to know each other with the pressure of acting for the cameras.
So, my surprise had been genuine when I’d seen pictures of us trending on social media five minutes after I had dropped Nathan off at his car. There had been photos of us entering the diner. A couple of us eating together. Another where I had my arm around Nathan, probably right after I had pulled him back from the curb.
The one that seemed to be garnering the most attention, however, was a front shot of Nathan wearing my jacket. I could see why. With his windswept curl, rosy cheeks, and my leather jacket draped over his shoulders, he was the perfect mix of innocence and sex appeal.
For our second date, I’d chosen a quiet Italian restaurant outside of the city limits. Of course, Nathan had still been uncooperative. He had spent most of the meal glaring at his spaghetti while offering single-word answers. Whether his intention or not, there had been a subtle but noticeable change in his demeanor.
He hadn’t been quite so combative, and his usual acerbity had been practically nonexistent. Once, I thought I might have even seen him smile, though he had been quick to drop his head when he’d caught me looking.
Again, photos of us had started making the rounds on social media just minutes after we had left the restaurant. There also appeared to be a lot of speculation about who I could be. A friend? A family member? A new boyfriend?
I honestly hadn’t expected such an immediate and passionate response from netizens. Not many children of politicians reached even pseudo-celebrity status, and certainly not to the level Nathan had. A quick Google search had revealed plenty of articles and photos of him, documenting his many transgressions.
Jesus, the poor guy couldn’t even pump gas without someone writing a lengthy think piece on it. I just didn’t understand why. He didn’t model, act, or sing. He didn’t play sports. He wasn’t an influencer or a spokesperson. From everything I had read, he was just a regular college kid from a rich family.
I knew the names of maybe half a dozen senators. The ones who always made headlines for one reason or another. I didn’t know anything about their personal lives, though, including if they even had children. I sure as shit didn’t care about the daily comings and goings of said offspring, and I had a feeling most people felt the same.
So, what made Nathan different? Why did he seem to be the exception rather than the rule?
Of course, it was impossible to speculate since I still didn’t know anything about him. He never talked about himself—his likes, dislikes, interests, or hobbies. The only thing I could say with any degree of certainty was that he definitely didn’t like the idea of my forced company.
While he also didn’t discuss his family, in that case, what he didn’t say spoke volumes.
Like the fact that he had a turbulent relationship with his mother. Hell, he didn’t even call her “mom.” On the rare occasion he did bring her up in conversation, he only ever referred to her as “the senator.”
I had learned early on that the topic of his father was a hard line, reinforced with a steel wall that wouldn’t be coming down anytime soon. Oh, there was bitterness there, sure, but also a world of hurt. I doubted Nathan even realized how wounded he’d looked when I had asked about his dad.
These were the thoughts that distracted me while I wandered the supermarket. As a result, I ended up at the register with three packages of cookies, a single potato, flavored coffee creamer instead of milk, and a bag of dog treats.
I didn’t have a dog.
Instead of going back for the things I actually needed, I decided to give up and try again on a different day.
Still, thoughts of Nathan persisted throughout the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. On the surface, he was rude, arrogant, and frankly, a pain in my ass. Even the act of simple discourse with him was like trying to get blood from a stone.
At the same time, I couldn’t reconcile the guy who left a five-dollar tip for a glass of water with the entitled asshole portrayed in the media. How could someone who was reported to be a scandalous playboy blush so sweetly at a simple touch to the arm? How was it that this irresponsible kid who loved to party was adorably tipsy after a single glass of wine?
Nothing made sense, and the more I learned about him on the internet, the more questions I had. The rumors hadn’t sprouted up from nowhere, and Nathan wasn’t doing anything to dispel them, but I had a hard time believing the things said about him.
My instructions for how to dress for the event included words like “festive” and “eye-catching.” I didn’t know what the hell that meant, nor did I care. The tree lighting took place outside, in the cold, and the only thing the public would see of my attire was the heather-gray, wool trench coat.
