Nash

by Jay Crownover

  The door clicked closed behind me and I shivered inside my coat as much from adrenaline as from the freezing Colorado air. I had on a knee-length skirt and a pair of knee-high boots that went great with my sparkly tank top. It was appropriate, cute, and not in any way suggestive, but it wasn’t made for pacing up and down the end of the driveway waiting for my getaway ride in the middle of winter.

  I heard the car long before I saw it come around the corner. It was loud, distinctive, made my ears ring, and there was no missing the black-and-chrome monster, much like there was no missing the car’s owner. I barely waited until he rolled to a stop before hopping in the passenger seat. My fingers were numb and my cheeks were freezing cold, but the interior of the car was nice and warm and smelled like a mixture of Nash’s cologne, Armor All, and cigarette smoke. I put my fingers in front of the heater vent on the top of the dash as he wheeled around and headed out of the affluent subdivision.

  “Thank you. I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything.”

  He cast me a look out of the corner of his eye and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He had the Dropkick Murphys playing low on the radio and I thought it seemed like a fitting musical choice for him.

  “Nope. I was just at a friend’s bar. Rule’s out of town and Jet took Ayden to New York with him for a show he was playing. Rome is expecting a baby, so he’s all about acting like a respectable adult, and Rowdy is my only single friend left, so we just hit the bar. Asa—he runs Rome’s bar for him—is the only other unattached member of our little gang and he and Rowdy both set their sights on the same cute little brunette. You called right when they were trying to outhandsome each other. It was getting ridiculous, so I probably would’ve bounced early and headed home anyway.”

  He glanced over at me and I saw his gaze skim over my legs where the hem of the skirt had ridden up and my skin was bare between it and the top of my boots.

  “You look really nice.”

  “You didn’t always think that … I looked nice, I mean.” I hated that my voice cracked and broke. He jerked his head to look at me and the lights from the dash made the dime-sized discs in his earlobes glint at me. I muttered my address when he stopped at a red light while he was still staring at me.

  “Seriously? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  I looked out the window and used my finger to trace a little stick figure on the condensation on the pane. I gave him a top hat and a bow tie.

  “In high school you said ‘someone would need to put a bag over her head if she wants to get laid.’” I turned to face him and he looked astonished and incredulous. “You and a group of guys that you hung out with were smoking when I came around the corner and I heard you. I heard stuff like that all the time because I was fat and had awful skin, but it hurt coming from you because I thought you were different. You said I was a mess and needed to look in a mirror and do some work.”

  I closed my eyes and replayed that moment over in my mind. Even now it made my chest hurt and old insecurity rise up.

  “And before that … before that, I thought you were so nice. Every time you smiled at me, every time you said hi to me, I thought it made you different. I went to Ashley Maxwell’s birthday party because you asked me if I was going.” I saw it all as clear as if it was happening right in front of me, and if I had bothered to look over at him, I would have seen the stunned confusion on his handsome face as he was trying to pull the puzzle pieces of our history out of his memory.

  “It was so stupid of me. I felt like an idiot. You looked right past me and then kissed Ashley like she was something special. You didn’t even know I was alive, and then you had to go and say those awful things about me. I went from thinking you were wonderful to hating you. The way you made me feel …” My voice dropped low and I could hear the old hurt, the old disappointment, in my tone. “It stayed with me for a long time, Nash.”

  It was quiet save for the guitars and bagpipes on the stereo and I thought maybe he felt guilty or embarrassed, but when we got to the front of my apartment building and I was turning to tell him thanks for the ride, I was startled when he turned fully in his seat and yelled at me like he was the one who’d been wronged for so long.

  “Jesus Christ, woman, you’re out of your ever-loving mind!”

  I pulled back a little and frowned at him, alarmed at the vehemence in his tone. “What?”

  “I never said anything like that about you. No way in hell, and if I ignored you at some stupid party, it wasn’t on purpose. I was a fucking idiot when I was a teenager, Saint. My priorities were locked firmly in my pants. If a girl was a sure thing back then, you think any eighteen-year-old guy was going to turn her down?”

  I gave him a sad smile and reached for the door. “But I heard you that next week, Nash. I saw you with my own eyes. It was a long time ago, but my memory is clear, and if it was just a case of boys being boys, it still really, really hurt.”

  He shook his head and threw his hands up as far as the interior of the car would allow.

  “Bullshit. I never even thought that about you, Saint, so there is no way I would’ve said it. I thought you were shy … and yeah, maybe pretty awkward and a little too studious for my taste, but I always thought you were pretty. Why do you think I said hi to you every day, tried to engage you? I thought your smile was beautiful, and when you finally loosened up enough to give it to me on a regular basis, I was stoked. Your hair is awesome and wild, I love that shit … and your eyes. Fuck me, but your eyes could inspire men to go to war, to paint works of art, to rip their goddamn heart out of their chest and offer it to you without a second thought … then and now. None of that has changed over the years, so there is no way I would have said that stuff about you … no fucking way. You heard me say, ‘Saint Ford needs a bag over her head to get laid’? I don’t think so.”

  He was really, really mad. I could feel it burning off of him and I didn’t know how to react. For so long I had been the one feeling victimized, had used that turn of events to justify the way I acted with other people, but now that he mentioned it, as clear as that memory was, I had never heard him say my name.

  “I—”

  I jumped in the seat when the side of his fist slammed down on the dashboard in front of him.

  “You what? Want an excuse not to like me because you know I’m attracted to you and you can’t handle it? I heard negative shit about myself every day of my childhood, Saint. I wasn’t smart enough, clean enough, polite enough, and Lord only knows my skin color and my eye color were all fucking wrong. You really think I would do that to someone else? Yeah, I might be guilty of not seeing you real clearly when you were right in front of me back then, and I may have inadvertently hurt your feelings by acting like a hormonal idiot at that party, but if you had said something to me, told me you were going to be there to see me, I can guarantee that wouldn’t have happened. I might have been running my mouth and talking shit, but I wasn’t talking about you.”

  His eyes were almost black. I had no idea what to do. For my entire life I thought I knew, was so sure, and now I felt like I didn’t know anything.

  I shoved my hair back behind my shoulders and looked at him.

  “If not me, then who, Nash? Who else would you have been talking about? I know you said it. I heard you and I saw you. Even if it wasn’t about me, using hurtful words like that isn’t right.”

  He slammed his hands on the steering wheel and growled at me, actually growled.

  “Who knows? A teacher I didn’t like, a girl that I hooked up with, a girl that turned me down … I don’t remember because I was a teenage guy full of stupid shit and a lot of anger back then. We all said stupid stuff on the regular, but I never picked on anyone because I knew exactly how crappy that felt. Back then, all I wanted to do was get laid, party with my friends, and forget that my mom was a ruthless bitch. My life sucked, I had a lot of moments where I sucked. I was barely hanging in there most days. I’m not going to deny I was acting like a moro
n because I more than likely was, but I know there is no way I was verbally attacking you like that.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I wouldn’t have said anything like that about you because I didn’t think it. I thought you were pretty then, I think you’re unbelievably gorgeous now, and all along I’ve known girls like you don’t get into guys like me. Girls like Ashley Maxwell do.”

  I reached out and put my hand on his that was curled so tightly on the steering wheel. I had always been into a guy like him, that’s why those awful words still haunted me.

  “Nash …” The way I wanted to believe him, trust in him, was overwhelming and I had to admit he might have a point about telling him I was going to that party to specifically see him. Mostly I was caving and thinking there might be more to what happened back then because it made me feel less confused about the way I wanted him, the way he just lit me up with a mere look.

  He looked at my hand and then into my eyes.

  “Even if some jerk did say that about you, you should know that it was just kids being dumb and none of it was true. And I swear I never would have thrown away an opportunity to hang out with you if I knew you were offering it up. Back then, a party like that meant one thing—getting laid. I had a one-track mind. Words like that, others’ opinions of you, shouldn’t have that kind of power, Saint.”

  But they did and therein lay the problem. I was always guilty of letting other people’s words and actions hurt me and dictate how I felt about myself, and it was costing me more than I ever thought. I wanted who he was with me now to be the real Nash, not the Nash that still haunted my memories with indifference and careless words.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and stuck it in his mouth. I gasped at him and reached over to yank it out of his mouth, which had him glaring at me even harder.

  “No! I thought you quit?”

  “I did, until last week.”

  He didn’t need to say anything else. I knew what happened last week that would have made him start up again. I was to blame for that, but I could rectify it now if he let me.

  I shoved the door open and bent down to look at him. “Come inside with me, Nash.”

  He threw his head back against the headrest and shook his head in the negative.

  “That didn’t work out so great for me last time, Saint.”

  No, it hadn’t, but I was tired from holding on to who I’d thought Nash had been, when the Nash from now was all gorgeous and accommodating in front of me. He had dropped everything and come to pick me up without question. I threw his unlit cigarette on the ground next to me and lifted both of my eyebrows at him. It was time to make new memories to replace the old ones that haunted me.

  “I’ve never wanted to have sex with any guy like that before. I couldn’t stop myself, didn’t want to stop. I want you, want to touch you, feel you, and it was amazing for me. No guy, ever, has gotten me off before, Nash. Not that there have been a lot, but you are the only one. I can’t promise you that I’m not going to freak out again. There’s a good chance I might start to cry because I don’t really have a handle on all the things you make me feel, good and bad, but I want you to come inside. I don’t want the past between us right now.” I didn’t want anything to stand between us anymore.

  He looked like he was going to tell me no. I don’t know how I would have handled that, actual, undeniable, in-my-face rejection, but luckily I didn’t have to find out because he threw open his door and climbed out of the car and looked at me over the roof. He wasn’t going to disappoint me. That made my heart flutter and my tummy go all squishy and warm.

  “Let’s give it ten minutes. Ten minutes, and if it isn’t going to work for both of us, let’s cut our losses and no one gets hurt or”—one of his black eyebrows shot up and a self-deprecating grin pulled at his mouth—“left hanging.”

  “Ten minutes?” It didn’t sound like nearly enough time to touch all that smooth, burnished skin.

  “Ten minutes.”

  I could handle ten minutes without freaking out. Heck, when he kissed me the first time, it had lasted longer than ten minutes. I could do this, wanted to do this, but that didn’t mean my hands stopped shaking or the idea of getting naked with him didn’t have my stomach dipping and second thoughts trying to shove their way up from the depths. I talked a good game about letting sleeping dogs lie, but really I could feel they were always there, tugging hard on the leash.

  On the plus side, getting naked with him again meant I was finally going to see the rest of that tattoo.

  CHAPTER 9

  Nash

  Ten minutes. No big deal, but something told me they were going to be the ten most important minutes in my life. Especially after what she had just revealed about the past and why she ran so hot and cold with me. That was some heavy stuff, made the way I needed kid gloves with her so much more understandable. She was into me, but she sort of hated me as well. That wasn’t a spot I had ever been in before.

  I even remembered both those moments in question. It was all kind of hazy and foggy with time, but I recalled the main parts of it. That party had been one of many. I’m pretty sure I had already been drunk before showing up. Ashley Maxwell and I had an easy thing going where if I showed up without a chick, I usually ended the night in her bed. I can’t even remember what she looked like and I sure as hell don’t remember asking Saint if she was going to be there. Parties like that were below her and I knew it. Hearing her take on the situation made me feel like an asshole and it made why she had suddenly started treating me like a leper back then understandable.

  The day she had caught me running my mouth was less clear. I didn’t remember what I had been talking about, or the words I had used, but I do remember seeing her come around the corner looking like she was going to be sick all over the place and crying big, fat tears. At the time I thought if we were actually friends, or if she wasn’t so shy, I would have asked her what was wrong. She was too pretty to look that heartbroken.

  I wasn’t a saint. I was an angry teenager cast aside and trying to figure out what kind of young man I was ultimately going to become. That had been a rocky road for a while and I said dumb shit, used hurtful words when I was shooting off my mouth, but I had never been and would never be a gossip or a bully. Yes, whatever she had overheard me say was inappropriate and taken out of whatever context I was using it in, and probably made me sound and appear to be the biggest dickhead on the planet.

  However, what bothered me most wasn’t that Saint had stumbled across me acting like an idiot and held it against me all this time, but that she had just automatically thought whoever I was bitching about had been her. That spoke to self-esteem issues and self-doubt that I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle. Not to mention I didn’t really know how to show her the guy I was now versus the pissed-off kid I had been then.

  I shadowed her into her apartment and followed suit as she tossed her coat on the back of her couch. I didn’t even look around the place. When she turned to face me I stepped immediately into her space. I wasn’t going to give her the option of running again. She was almost as tall as I was with those wicked boots on. I grabbed her hair in one hand and wrapped the curls around my fist and used my other to grab on to her chin. She was caught.

  “We can do a lot in ten minutes, Saint. Where is the bedroom?”

  She looked a little unsure and tilted her head in the direction of a doorway past the little galley kitchen. Since I was working on a clock, I didn’t have a lot of time to waste. I kissed her and simultaneously moved her backward in the direction of the door. She moved with me, which made me sigh in appreciation against her lips. She got her hands under the hem of my thermal and started to tug it up over my back and ribs.

  No way was that happening again. I hit the door and pinned her against it, which made her gasp a little and had her eyes widening in surprise. I had to say I liked how well we lined up. It would be super easy to tangle her
all around me and get down to business … maybe after these ten minutes were up I would show her that ten more would be a great idea … and ten more after that. I gently untangled her fingers from the fabric of my shirt and lightly put my hands on her narrow waist under the hem of her sparkly tank top.

  “My turn.”

  I think she was stunned, but she stuck her bottom lip out a little bit at me and I couldn’t resist the desire to catch it between my teeth.

  “But I want to see your tattoo.” Her voice was breathy and had a catch to it that made my dick all kinds of happy.

  I lifted an eyebrow and watched her carefully as I got her top off up over her head. She was breathing shallow and obviously she was anxious, but so far so good, and I still had time on the clock. I turned the doorknob behind her and the door opened easily with her weight leaned against it. As I continued to dance her backward I found the tiny little zipper on the back of her skirt and started to pull it down.

  I kissed her again to distract her from the fact that I was steadily heading her toward the bed in the center of the room and told her in a husky voice, “Later. It’s not going anywhere.”

  I wanted to turn the lights on so I could see all that pretty white skin I was uncovering and the way all her red-and-copper-colored hair looked all over it, and the bed, and me when we got there. I didn’t think she was there with me yet, though. She was kissing me back, had her arms wrapped around my neck, but she was still stiff and she didn’t seem like she was in any hurry to let me get down to business as I wiggled the skirt over her hips and down over those pirate boots.

  “Nash …” There was hesitancy in her voice and I felt like I was running out of time.

  I got down so that I was on my knees in front of where she was hovering on the edge of the bed. She looked like she wanted to bolt but she took a deep breath and looked down at me. Her eyes were swirling like a hurricane. In that gaze was an equal mix of desire, trepidation, and question. The way her breasts rose and fell was captivating. She put one of her hands on either side of my head so she was holding on to the fire that marked my skin.