Never Got Over You

by Scott, S. L.

  “Why are you acting so weird?”

  “I’m not.” Coming behind me, she shoves me toward the hallway. “I’ll order the food, but you go.”

  “Why?”

  “Go now.” Her voice is hard, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “I’ll call something in, but you can get a head start.”

  Adjusting the strap around my body, I roll my eyes and move to the door. “God, you’re so weird. If you want alone time, just say so, Tatum.”

  “I want alone time!”

  “Okay. Okay. Geez. Calm down. I’m going. I’m going.” I start walking down the hall for the stairs. Got to get a few more steps in today.

  “Thanks, Nat.” The door closes behind me, and I hear both locks latch. Girl needs to get some of that pent-up energy out in constructive ways instead of letting it build like anger inside her.

  When I reach the lobby, I cut across the space. The doorman beats me to the door, holding it open. I step through, but then stop.

  There, in front of my building, is a turquoise Vespa parked at the curb. And the most handsome man I’ve ever seen standing in front of it. “What took you so long?” Nick asks, holding a helmet out for me.

  I look up to the sky to see Tatum leaning on our windowsill with a big smile on her face. I give her a little wave, and she sends one back. Turning to Nick, I walk closer. “I think you forgot I don’t like anything with two wheels.”

  “Yeah, but you gave me a chance once. I was hoping you’d give me another to prove that you’ll always be safe with me.”

  I take the helmet from him. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

  Reaching out, he takes hold of me and pulls me against him. “I hope the answer will always be yes.”

  My body begins to melt in his hands like a chocolate bar on a hot day. “Yes.”

  He chuckles. “I haven’t asked you anything.”

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lift up so our mouths are a hell of a lot closer, and reply, “The answer is always yes.” Kissing him, I realize how true those words really are when it comes to him.

  I’m slow to open my eyes when we part, but when I do, seeing that dimplicious grin is worth the wait. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just in town to see my girlfriend.”

  He’s going to do me in with his sweetness. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  That has him laughing harder this time. “And if she’s not into surprises?”

  “She is.” Taking a step back, I slip my helmet on. “So where are you taking me, Mr. Sexy?”

  “What happened to the smug?”

  “I misjudged you.”

  He gets on the Vespa and anchors a helmet over his head. Clasping the strap under his chin, he shrugs. “That happens to us Ralph Lauren models sometimes.”

  Stepping up to the side of the scooter, I shake my head. “I spoke too soon. It’s official. Smug has returned to its rightful place.”

  “C’mon on, babe,” he says, “hop on.”

  “I’m hungry. What about dinner?”

  Turning to look at me over his shoulder, he says, “I know you’re used to being the boss around here, but maybe you’ll give me a chance to surprise you. What do you say?”

  I get on the back of the scooter and wrap my arms around him, happy to be with him again. “I’m all in.”

  20

  Nick

  The drivers in New York are maniacs, so riding through the city with my girl didn’t go exactly as planned. Flipping a cab driver off for almost killing us when he cut into our lane without signaling had Natalie on edge. I swerved into an alley to avoid running into the back of him.

  The last thing I want, or need, is to be arrested for hurting a cabbie for threatening us. I promised to keep Natalie safe, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it. Despite her arguing that I’m doing otherwise right now.

  Pacing, she covers what has to be her fiftieth lap in front of me. “They’re the worst. I mean, sure we need them, but cabbies are crazy sometimes. You can’t just flip off someone because you’re mad, Nick. Maybe that works in LA, but not in New York City.”

  She clearly has an impression that all Angelenos are chill. I don’t mind her being that innocent. I’ll let her believe everything is sunshine and palm trees. It is for the most part, so it’s not a total lie. But I’m still not afraid of a mad cabbie.

  She stops and looks around. “I need to eat. Nothing good will come of me being hangry. I can promise you that. No sirree, Bob.”

  “So I’m learning, and who’s Bob?”

  “You guys don’t say that on the West Coast?”

  Tugging her by the hand, I pull her close. “Are we back to pointing out our differences?”

  Her grin has me smiling. She leans against me and gives me a kiss. “I do rather enjoy discovering our commonalities.”

  “We have those in spades. For instance, you like to eat, and I like to feed you. And then I like to eat you.” I kick the stand up and right the Vespa under me. “Get on, babe. Let’s go.”

  “Where to?”

  “It’s a surprise, something I want your opinion on.”

  “I love giving my opinion, that, and free advice.” She winks.

  Chuckling, I reply, “I’ll take all your words, free or otherwise, because I’m just happy I get to hear them in person.”

  She pulls her helmet over her head, but then leans in and kisses me before she maneuvers to get on behind me. Resting her chin on my back, she adds, “Keep charming me, handsome, and you’ll never be able to shut me up.”

  There are many ways I can respond to that, but I say, “Hold on,” instead. I love the feel of her holding onto me, too.

  I’m not familiar with the streets here, but map apps are a glorious thing. We make it to the building by taking shortcuts. When I pull into the parking garage, a valet takes our helmets before driving the moped to park it somewhere.

  “I’m so excited,” she says, doing a little light step shuffle with her feet. “I literally have no idea where we are or what we’re doing here.”

  By the looks of it, she’s right. We could be anywhere. The gray concrete walls and parking spot lines don’t tell us anything. The name of the building—The Pressler—does, however. “Hope you like surprises.” I’m not sure how this one will go over with her, and my hands start to sweat with nerves. Inside the elevator, I shove my hands in my pockets after pushing the button for the sixteenth floor.

  “Especially when said surprises involve food. Does it involve food? Because I’m seriously past starved and about to eat my arm off.” Her face scrunches. “That’s such a gross phrase. Remind me not to use it anymore.”

  “Noted,” I reply. “And I’m well aware of your hunger at this stage in the night, so food is, of course, a part of tonight’s festivities.”

  She’s struck with giddiness streaking up her spine. “Oh, festivities. I like the sound of this.” The elevator doors open, and we step out. She’s more tentative as she looks around the unfamiliar space.

  I take hold of her hand again and keep walking, leading her toward the end of the hall to 1605. I open the door and let her walk in first. It helps I had a sneak peek online, but it’s still good to see it in real life.

  Just like the other times we’ve entered a space together, she heads straight for the windows. Curiosity seems to be something she carries with her, as if the city she grew up in is still shiny and new. I ask, “What do you think?”

  “About?” Her gaze remains trained outside.

  “I’ve been offered an opportunity.” I throw that out there much more rushed than I planned. Clamping my mouth shut, I wait to watch her reaction, to read her thoughts and mood regarding the news. But when she remains silent for an uncomfortable few seconds, I start filling the empty space. “Here in the city . . . I was thinking about taking it.”

  Turning around, Natalie stares at me as if the words she heard weren’t clear. “I don’t understand.”
<
br />   “I know we just started dating, but I wouldn’t be opposed to making it a full-time gig. What do you think?”

  She finally comes to me, holding onto my belt loops. “I think a couple of weeks is too long to go without seeing you. But—”

  “But?” It was music to my ears until that but . . .

  “Are you giving up your life in California for me or a job? Maybe both?” She nods. “I’m happy to have you here, thrilled in fact, but I worry because I’m not sure it’s worth trading your comfort zone for mine. What if you’re not happy once you move here? Then I’ll be the one you blame.”

  “Since we’re tossing out what-ifs, what if I move and we date with intention, like we have some place to go together? A future we’re working toward?”

  Backing away, she leans against an exposed brick wall and then glances out the window momentarily. “It’s a good thought, but I’m scared.”

  “Of?”

  Without much light to reflect in them, her eyes are darker than usual, or maybe it’s the worry taking over. “I worry you won’t like me like you do now.”

  I didn’t see that one coming. Not sure how to answer, so I use the time to memorize this new emotion that has no business settling into her posture—the dip of her shoulders at the edge, the expression caught between the happiness she wants to feel and the reality of the hurt she’s experienced. “That won’t happen.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because the more time I spend with you, the more time I want to spend with you. You keep me on my toes and guessing. Life with you is an adventure, but I’d like to explore the downtime with you as well.” Spying the picnic I set up earlier on the balcony and knowing how hungry she is, I realize it’s a lot to spring on her. Maybe she’s right, and we should talk about this after eating. I guess I was hoping for—

  I’m kissed under the chin and along my jaw. Arms wrap around me, and she whispers, “I want you here, Nick. Selfishly, I want you here all the time, but it makes me feel bad for wanting you to give up your life for mine.”

  “This isn’t a trade or an either-or situation. This is two adults figuring out how to be together. I want to find out what it’s like to lie in bed with you when one of us doesn’t have to leave early in the morning. What would it be like to come home from work and sit on the couch and watch bad reality TV or have sports on while you’re doing your own thing somewhere in the apartment? You’d help me figure out the best neighborhood takeout and teach me how you like to fold your towels.”

  “Four folds total. No lazy threefold business for me.”

  “See? I was taught the same,” I say as if this is a unique thing just for us. It feels like it is, and I like that we have something else in common to think about, even if it’s mundane. This kind of stuff never crossed my mind before her, and now I want to think about it. I want to learn about her.

  She gives me a good squeeze and then leans back to look up at me. “What are you really asking me?”

  “I’m willing to consider moving here if you think it’s a good idea.”

  “We’ve had a few phone calls and videos, lots of texts, but Nick, what if . . .”

  When she pauses, I ask, “What if?” She turns away from me when I put her on the spot, hoping she takes this leap to reassure me I’m making the right decision. But apparently, I’m competing with the most fascinating city in the world outside. “Talk to me, Natalie.”

  Peeking at me, she says, “This apartment is nice, but whose is it?”

  “I haven’t bought it, but my family is thinking about it.”

  “Can I be honest with you?”

  “I hope you’ll always be honest with me.”

  Her bottom lip is momentarily dragged under her teeth in worry. “Sometimes I worry that I won’t be what someone like you needs.”

  “When you say someone like me, what do you mean exactly?”

  Concern of scaring me away is drawn into her eyes. “I’ve dated a lot of bad boys in my time—”

  “You’re twenty-three, so I’m not sure ‘in your time’ applies. We’ve both dated others. That’s what we’re supposed to do. That’s how we find our—”

  “Soul mate,” she finishes as if the concept is as starry-eyed as she is right now. I’m the lucky guy on the receiving end of those ocean blues. “This isn’t a fly-by-night relationship. Not for me. It may be new, but I can tell there will be damage left behind.”

  “Not if I have a say.”

  “My exes grew tired and cheated.” She tosses that out there like a threat, putting distance between us as she moves across the empty room.

  I call her on this bullshit. “I’m not one of them.”

  “No, you’re accomplished and attractive, very attractive, but you’re good inside and out. You’re a lawyer, for God’s sake. You can have your choice of women to date, Nick.” How do I get her to understand that my occupation doesn’t make me the man I am? What words will convince her that in the months we were separated, my heart had felt half-full as if something—someone—was missing?

  “I don’t want other women, Natalie. I want you.” Probably forever.

  Throwing her arms into the air, she asks, “Why? Maybe that’s where I’m lost. The sex is incredible, but that’s not what a good foundation is built on.”

  “No, it’s built on something deeper, something we possess—a connection like no other. I felt that connection the moment we met. So you can throw out all the reasons you think we won’t work out, but what I won’t let you do is put words into my mouth.”

  “I don’t want you to find out that I’m not who you thought I was.” Her voice is so soft, but I’m listening to every word.

  “Who are you?”

  “Catalina was frivolous fun. New York a chance encounter that led us to think we can be more.” She sits on the large windowsill, so small compared to the world that’s on the other side of the glass. But I hate that she feels small. I never want that for her. “I’m just a girl with her heart on the line.”

  I kneel in front of her. Taking her hands in mine, I say, “You’ve been hurt, but I won’t be the one to cause you pain.” Her eyes are glassy, and I’m still not fully aware of why she’s upset. “Who treated you less than you deserve?”

  As if I’ve said the magic words to unlock the Pandora’s box in her heart, she replies, “Everyone.” Leaning in, I wrap my arms around her back and bring her against me. She rests her head on my shoulder. “My last two boyfriends cheated on me.”

  “That’s not about you. They’re just assholes.”

  The slightest of smiles shapes her lips but falls just as quick again as she gazes into the distance. “My parents.” I’m hit with a glare, not intuitively bad upon inspection, but a secret she’s held that she’s not ready to reveal.

  “You can tell me anything, and I’ll never feel less about you.” A humorless chuckle chokes in my throat. “I feel . . . there’s so much I feel and have wanted to tell you.”

  Cupping my face, she looks at me, reflecting the same emotion in her expression that I feel inside, pain seen in the downward turn of her mouth but so full of love in her eyes. “Me too. It feels natural, not forced. That’s different and new for me, like everything with you. I’ve almost said it so many times after our calls or even last time you were in New York.”

  I find myself nodding, knowing that’s when I almost said it as well. “I love you.” I put it out there, tired of holding back my deep-seated feelings for her. She’s ingrained inside me, a part of me that I know I’ll never be able to wash away, so I’ll own the emotions starting today.

  Her hands fall from my face, and I miss their warmth already. “Nick . . .”

  “You don’t have to say it in return or anything. I know you feel it as well. That’s enough to sustain me until you’re ready.”

  “I love you.” Quick. Simple. Direct. Like mine.

  Her confession elicits my smile without permission as if my whole wiring is in tune with her wor
ds. “Well, there we have it. Two fools who fell in love too fast for the rest of the world.” I sit on the sill next to her and caress her face, admiring her strength for sharing so much of herself. Her beauty is deeper than the surface of her skin. It’s found in her words and how she looks at me like I’m everything.

  Covering my hands, she adds, “But it’s not too fast for us.”

  “No, I’d say we’re right on time.”

  21

  Nick

  Food motivates Natalie.

  She’s been pretty vocal about her hunger pangs. We all get a little cranky when we’re hungry. But after devouring the food I brought, we remain sprawled out on the floor of the apartment on a blanket. Fed, she’s a whole new person and is back to her usual talkative self. “I love cookies as much as the next person, but can they really land a man? Asking for business purposes, of course.” She laughs and waves her arm through the air expressively. “I sound like Carrie Bradshaw.” Must be one of her friends.

  “I suppose it depends on the type of cookies.”

  Her gaze hits me, and her lips part. I wouldn’t go so far as to say her mouth falls open, but she is gawking. “The type of cookies?” She repeats me like she must’ve heard wrong. She crosses her legs and leans forward. “Let me get this straight. You would consider dating a woman, exclusively, I might add, by the type of cookies she gave you?”

  “I think that’s simplifying things a bit.”

  “Maybe, but I need to boil this down to the bare essence of what you’re saying. It’s important research—life or death of my business. Okay, that might be taking it a bit far, but this is valuable information, so humor me while I dig deeper.” She sits, pulling her shoulders back. “What do cookies mean to you?”

  “Sugar means I can take her home to meet my parents, but it’s going to be a long wait to take it to the next level physically.” Resting back on the palms of my hands, I cross my ankles of my outstretched legs. “Oatmeal signifies a homebody. It’s a good thing to steer clear of if you like to party. But oatmeal raisin, that’s a whole other story. That’s a girl who likes adventure. Works hard, plays hard type.”