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“I’m taking a shower, unless you have a problem with me doing that too.”
He looked back at me as he made his way across the small room in only a few steps, his bag still in his hand. I just turned away, flopping onto the couch, and pulling my book back out. A half-hour passed, as hard as I tried to focus on my book, it was nearly impossible to stop the stream of thoughts assaulting my mind. I could hear the shower turn off and my mind drifted back to the day I had walked in on him in my bathroom.
He had ignored me for three months and then pushed himself on me like no time had passed. Like I was just sitting around waiting for him. Or like he had been sitting around waiting for me. Every time the thought crossed my mind since then, it caused me to get irate all over again. I never told Brandon what had happened. Hell, I told no one, not even Ryder.
When he emerged in the doorway again, the smell of his body wash flooded the room. The smell was intoxicating. I had to remind myself for a minute that I hated him.
“Did you use all the hot water?”
He had been in there for so long and I doubted this place had a great water heater. Rolling his eyes, he sat down on the couch, grabbing the television remote. Grabbing my bag, I walked towards the bathroom. Looking towards the bed, I called back over my shoulder, still aggravated at his behavior.
“You can take the bed. I don’t need it.”
I slammed the bathroom door behind me, not waiting to see if he cared to have a response. The cold water was not refreshing and rushed over me, chilling my body more than the pellets of rain had. As I stepped out of the stall, I heard a knock on the door.
“I’m going to go see if there’s anywhere to eat. Do you want anything?”
He still sounded ticked off, but there was a hint of his usual caring tone underneath it. He knew I hadn’t eaten all day, just like him, but I couldn’t stomach eating right now.
“No.”
I found myself snapping back at him.
“Suit yourself then.”
The main door slammed, shaking the mirror. This drive was going to be torture if we were going to be at each other’s throats the whole time. I sure as hell wouldn’t talk first. I knew better than to open that can of worms.
Five minutes after I settled back on the couch the door swung open. Nate walked in with an armful of snacks from a vending machine. Throwing it down on the table, he took his now soaked hoodie off, and threw it on the back of the couch. It drew my eyes to his waistline as his shirt got caught up on his hoodie, as it often did. I glanced back down at my book, hoping he hadn’t seen me watching him. Picking up the peanut butter cups, he threw them on my lap.
“Here. I got you this. I know it’s your favorite.”
Looking down at my lap, I couldn’t remember the last time I had one of those. My mom always used to get them as a special treat for me when she would make me sit through their sporting events. My eyes peered over my book at him.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that. Wait. How did you know that?”
He shrugged before settling onto the other end of the couch. Not saying a word as he opened a bag of chips, he flipped on the television, settling on some action movie.
It was getting late and neither of us seemed like we were going to bed soon. The tension only grew as we sat on opposite ends of an old couch that was well past its prime.
“I was serious before. You can take the bed.”
I tried smiling, hoping it would convince him to not be stubborn and just take it without a fight. I was mentally exhausted and didn’t feel like using the last of my energy being petty.
“What? So you can bitch to everyone when we get there about how you got a horrible night's sleep on the couch? No thanks. I’m good.”
I had never seen Nate like this before. A part of me was scared, but a greater part was concerned by his behavior. He had never been so short or reactive with me in all the time I’d known him. Not without an apology following soon after, at least. Never had he talked to me the way he was today. I almost preferred he would ignore me like at Christmas. I needed to choose my words carefully or risk him snapping back again.
“I’m sorry, seriously. If you’re going to drive in the morning, just take the bed. I promise I won’t say a word to anyone. Our little secret.”
I tried smiling again, hoping it would convince him I was being sincere.
“Yeah, because our secrets always work out so fucking well for me. I’ll just go sleep out in the truck. It’s fine.”
Retrieving his keys out of his pocket as he stood, shoving his feet into his already soaked boots, I found my hand reaching out and pulling him back onto the couch.
“What the hell Nate? I’m not friggin driving all the way to Texas with it being like this. Either tell me what the fuck is going on in your head or I’ll just call a taxi for myself in the morning.”
He didn’t move. His eyes stared blankly ahead, void of anything. We sat in utter deafening silence for a few minutes. The only sound in the room was the screeching of tires and gunshots coming from the television.
“Nate?”
His head turned to me, but he still stayed silent. My voice barely got above a whisper as my lips parted.
“I’m sorry I told your mom, but what the hell happened between us? I texted you, you ignored me and now you’re acting like I’m the one who is wrong here. Do you have any idea how bad that hurt? You disappeared and just left me behind. It was like I was fourteen all over again.”
I could feel as my voice cracked between my words. My eyes were burning, and I could only hope the poor lighting didn’t give him any sign of what was written all over my face.
