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Jack kisses me again, deep and earnest.
And I realize I can’t keep doing this. Seeing them both. I just made plans to meet Nate later tonight, and now I’m standing here kissing Jack.
It’s time to make a choice. I know that. But I also can’t help thinking about everything Celeste said yesterday, how I don’t even know what I’m choosing.
Sure, they both offer me hot kisses and sexy words, but what they’re sorely lacking in providing is clarity. I want to know where I stand with them. Where they truly see things going with me.
I think it’s time I find out.
40
AFTER CLASSES, ISPEND MOST OF THE AFTERNOON IN THE LIBRARY, alternating between doing research and updating Mr. Baxley about the chaos of yesterday. He’s horrified by Ben Tulley’s behavior and chastises me for going to the penthouse by myself, which adds another name to the long list of people I’ve been lectured by.
Later, I manage to escape the dreaded house meeting because Lee ends up going for dinner with Lord Eric. And since Jack has an evening match that finishes after nine, I also manage to avoid any awkward moments with him about the fact that I’m seeing Nate tonight. Which means I’m able to leave the house undetected when I slip out the door.
After we slept together for the first time back in November, I assured Nate we didn’t need to have “the talk.” That I’d check in after a few weeks to see where we stood. But now it’s been more than a few weeks, and I still don’t know where we stand.
I have a plan in mind when I show up at his flat. I’d spent all day forming the words in my head.
And it all goes to shit the moment he kisses me hello.
“Was worried you might try avoiding me,” he mumbles against my mouth. “After the Yvonne thing.”
“Not your fault,” I mumble back. “She’s got a good reason.”
He’s mind-altering. A quick drug that hits the bloodstream andseizes control of my senses. It doesn’t take much. The slightest taste. I’m barely through the door before his hands are climbing my ribs and we’re halfway to his bed.
“Sorry I couldn’t be there,” he says between kisses.
“I don’t think it would have helped.”
His tongue touches mine. The scent of his skin fogs my senses. I’ve got his belt loops between my fingers, grabbing for his zipper before my better judgment snaps me back to the mission at hand.
“Wait,” I say, breaking away from his kiss. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
He dips his head to kiss me again. “Talk away.”
Laughing, I shrug out of his arms. “Yeah, not when you’re distracting me with kisses.”
Nate offers a cheeky grin. “All right. I won’t kiss you for two minutes. Your time starts now.”
“Where is this going?” I blurt out.
He blinks in surprise. “What?”
“Sorry. I should have segued into that better.” I shrug sheepishly. “Basically, I think it’s time we have the talk.”
His hands fall to his sides. “Where’s this coming from? What did Yvonne say to you?”
“Nothing. This has nothing to do with her. I’m asking for myself.” My breath comes out in a slow exhale. “What do you want from me, Nate?”
“I’m not asking anything of you.” He steps back to lean against the footboard of his bed, the top button of his jeans undone. “I like you the way you are.”
I nod slowly, my gaze taking in our surroundings. Nate’s apartment is sparse, with minimal furniture and the bare necessities. No more than four plates or forks. A single couch. Two chairs at his kitchen table. A bass guitar and amp in the corner. By the door, his leather jacket, helmet, keys, and backpack hang ready for an escape at a moment’s notice. If he took off for good, there’d be hardly anythinghere to attest he’d ever existed. He would go from a memory to a figment of my imagination in an instant.
“You know what I mean,” I say quietly. “I want to know where this is going.”
“You’re asking if I want to be your boyfriend,” he says with far less enthusiasm than someone who’s excited about the idea.
