by A. J. Briar
My stubborn streak comes out to play as I decide not to text him about my article. Besides, I’m not too sure how he’ll take the fact the I’ve clearly delved into his past, the one he tried hard to cover. I’m not entirely sure why he’d want to hide having a crappy game so much, but each to their own I guess. He never did like showing weakness and in typical guy form, thinks I’ll judge him for having a low scoring game. I sneak out into the kitchen, grabbing some cereal before curling up in bed.
The following morning, the smell of fresh coffee wafts into my room as I’m throwing on a pair of jeans and t shirt. Pinning my hair up in a ponytail, I appraise myself in the mirror. Considering I slept most of the weekend, you’d think the bags under my eyes would have a day off, but alas, they sit in full glory, commanding attention. Thank god for concealer. I never normally make much of an effort when it comes to make up, but the fact that I have a serious panda eye issue going on, calls for reinforcements.
I shout Roxy’s name, knowing full well that she’ll be able to hear me. Moments later, the door swings open and Rox stumbles into the room, clutching two mugs in her hands. Handing me one, I sip gratefully, then ask for her help. She works her magic and by the time she’s finished beautifying me, I feel refreshed and ready for the day. As I grab my stuff, Roxy notices my assignment.
“May I?” She’s already half reading it, but her eyebrow quirks up. Her eyes flash up for a moment. I gesture for her to continue, knowing that she’ll probably congratulate me on my FBI skills rather than berate me for my guile.
“This is good. Really good, Izzy.” A grin adorns my face at her compliment of my work. “Just one question though. What made him lose focus? You skim over that detail and as a reader, it makes me want to know more.” I shrug not really knowing how to answer that. Part of me wishes I had delved a bit further, but with the deadline looming, it forced my hand. Maybe it’s something I can eventually pluck up the courage to ask Nathan about again.
“That’s the whole point of the article. I wanted to leave the reader guessing.” I chuckle watching Roxy scrunches up her face, clearly not happy about my answer. She makes it known the entire way to campus, chewing my ear off with possible solutions. Even as I hop out, she’s still banging on about Nathan and his mysterious past.
Putting him to the back of my mind, I wave goodbye to Roxy, and hightail my ass to class. Logan’s sitting waiting for me, though not alone; one of the girls from the party is at his side, in the space where I normally sit. His eyes find mine and he apologetically shrugs his shoulders, before turning his attention back to the chick next to him. I approach them, not sure what to say. I don’t want to be a bitch, but I was kind of hoping I could pick Logan’s brain to see whether Nathan had mentioned anything to him about transferring.
Roxy’s rants are obviously rubbing off on me, causing the curiosity to swirl. Logan coughs bringing me back to reality. I catch the last bit of his conversation which is him promising the girl a date if she moves. All too happy to oblige with that incentive, she hops up and leans down to kiss his cheek, before skipping to an empty seat in the front. My eyes narrow on Logan’s as I take my spot.
“What was that about? You don’t date.” I don’t mean for my words to come out so harsh, but I’m a bit taken aback by the whole situation. I thought the guy was in love with Roxy, yet here he is, offering a date to someone else.
“Maybe I’m trying something new. It got rid of her, didn’t it?” He rolls his eyes, but I sense the unease coming from him. I want to pry further but the professor interrupts and steals his attention away. She doesn’t relent till the end of the lesson, when she demands our assignments to be handed in on the way out. I follow Logan, who jumps up at lightning speed, heading out of class. He barely even registers the professor, slapping his article down, and striding away from me. Something is definitely up with him, so I place my assignment in the tray and race after him. Trying to keep up with him is no easy feat, so I place my hand on his shoulder and say his name softly asking him to stop.
“Logan, I’m sorry I didn’t mean what I said back there.” My words come out in a jumble, and Logan pins me with his steely gaze. The hurt is clear as glass and cuts me in half. I find myself stumbling over another apology. Logan crosses his arms; his glare relaxes ever so slightly before he nods his head in acceptance.
“It’s fine. I’m just sick of waiting in the side wings you know?” He scratches his jaw, looking around us as if he’s searching for something or maybe someone. The action draws my attention to the fact, we’re stood in the middle of a crowded corridor, which may not be the best place for him to start pouring his heart out. Coming to the same conclusion, Logan brushes me off, speaking in a low tone.
“Anyway, I need to get to my next class. Don’t worry about me, Isabella.” He uses his fingers to smooth out the lines that have formed on my forehead. None of this is making any sense, but I know that if Logan wanted to talk about it, he would. I watch him walk away, unsure on whether to mention something to Roxy. I’d always said from the beginning that I wouldn’t interfere in their friendship, but I hate seeing Logan so torn up. Even if he does hide it well. I drop him a quick text, making sure that he knows I’m here for him when he’s ready and head to my next class.
Three classes, four coffees and a bagel later, I walk into The Hideout ready for the graveyard shift. I’m surprisingly in good spirits, even though I have seven hours of work ahead of me. Nodding to Indi who is behind the bar, I head to the back to change. I check my phone, disappointed that I haven’t heard anything from Nathan. Slipping it away into my locker, I slam the door shut in frustration. My earlier positivity slips away by the second.
Shaking off every thought of Nathan, I take a deep breath in and head back out behind the bar. The night drags on, so I’m thankful when Anthony decides to close early. I grab my stuff and I’m out of there before he can rope me into staying. As I open the door, I notice a figure leaning against the wall, across the street, in an alleyway. Goose bumps break out across my skin as I try and make out who it is. I blink trying to focus when a car pulls up in front of me. Startled, I jump back and let out a scream, when Nathan’s ocean blue eyes, peeks up from the roof of the truck.
“It’s only me. Are you alright?” Glaring his way, I maneuver around his truck to find the alleyway empty. Huh, my imagination must be playing tricks on me. I turn my attention back to the hunk of meat behind me.
“What are you doing here?”
“Did you really think I’d let you bus it home again? Get in the car, I’m taking you home.” His tone is gruff when he speaks, and I know that it isn’t up for negotiation. Plus, it is nice not having to walk and catch the bus in the dark. Especially when my subconscious is trying to deceive me with the shadows. I hop in his truck, hearing the tones of some new hip hop song playing through the radio.
“Thank you,” I murmur my appreciation.
“You’re welcome. I hate the thought of you being anywhere alone, especially at night, so expect me to be here when you’re working late.” I’m about to open my mouth to protest but he pinches my lips together. Even though he’s being completely condescending, the touch of his fingers against my lips provokes all sorts of responses throughout my body.
“No arguments. Let me do this.” I nod, unable to say anything else, because the thought of seeing him more often, causes butterflies to swirl in my stomach. I like the idea that he wants to take care of me, more than I probably should if I’m honest.
“How did your assignment go?” My fingers begin to fiddle with the hem of my tank top, as I decide how to answer that. I don’t want to lie to him, but I don’t want him to be mad at me either.
“Isabella? You do realize I know you right? I know you fidget when you’re nervous about something. So, can you enlighten me? My heads spinning over here.” The sincerity in his tone clashes with the side eye he’s giving me while he continues to drive.
“It went well. I handed it in today.” That at least
isn’t a lie.
“Can I read it now?” I sigh, knowing that he’ll probably won’t relent, especially since this is the second time he’s asked about reading it.
“We’ll see.” Keeping my tone light works a treat. He drops the subject and starts asking how my day has been. Before I know it, he’s parked up in front of my apartment, the engine idling as we finish our conversation about which professor is the toughest. The chatter between us flows easily, which provides much needed relief from the thoughts in my head. I’m not entirely sure how long we sit and talk for, but I find my throat going dry. Roxy’s car isn’t here, so I know she’s AWOL, meaning I could invite him in, without being scrutinized by her. It’s weird that I don’t want him to leave yet, but I won’t allow myself to read too much into it.
“Do you want to come in for a drink? I might let you read that article.” Nathan hesitates, but graciously accepts, before running round the hood of the car, to open my door. I thank him, then lead him inside, heading straight to the fridge to see what we’ve got. Nathan cozies up next to me, a little closer than friends should be, though I’m not complaining. The heat from his body is comforting, and I know I could very easily just curl up in his embrace and be happy for the rest of my life. If it wasn’t so complicated, that is. He grabs a bottle of water from the top shelf then gently shuts it. I gesture towards my room, which he dutifully follows. My laptop doesn’t take long to boot up, but Nathan fills the time, by asking me mindless questions. Once he’s finished playing twenty questions about my room, I show him the assignment.
His eyes read it like his life depends on it, and by the end of it, I’m not sure whether he loves it or hates it. The grimace speaks volumes.
“You hate it don’t you?” My voice breaks him from his thoughts, and his face brightens, enough to qualm the nerves I feel. Somehow, I know I want his seal of approval. I want him to be proud of what I’ve wrote based on the extraordinarily little he told me.
“It’s great Isabella. I’m impressed.” I snort, because of all the emotions that were playing out on his face, none reflected that.
“You need to tell your face that then. You don’t look it.” His lips purse together, deep in thought, before he speaks again.
“I am. It’s just you’ve created this mysterious persona about me and that game. What if it’s something that I never want people to find out about it?”
“Then you shouldn’t have told me about it.” I try and keep the mood light, but it darkens by the second.
“You’ve painted me as a hero, but what if I’m not the hero Isabella?” His words are laced with so much honesty in them, my mind whirls trying to figure him out. He says he’s no hero, yet he drove to pick me up tonight, to save me from walking. All those years ago, he saved me not once, but twice from dangerous situations that could’ve very easily ended up entirely different if he hadn’t had been there. Maybe he doesn’t realize it, but he definitely has a habit of being my hero.
“I think you underestimate your heroing skills Nathan.” My tone is light trying to regain some of the earlier humor we had. It works when I get a light chuckle from him.
“Heroing? Is that even a word?”
“I’m making it a word. You heard it here first.”
“I’ll be sure to let Webster’s dictionary know.” His smile lights up, touching his eyes. The earlier tension is long gone as we head back out to the couch. We sit for what feels like hours, and it’s only when I start to yawn, that Nathan excuses himself to leave. I peek at the clock, it’s well after two in the morning.
Nathan reaches his truck and turns to say goodbye. His expression is full of so many emotions, it’s hard to read all of them.
Every time I glance at him, I find myself entranced by him. His looks, his voice, his personality, everything about him is enticing as fuck. I have to keep reminding myself that I was the one who shut this down. He’s giving me time to think things through because I asked for it. Although I’m starting to understand that that the more time that passes, the more I want him. I say my goodbye, needing to hide from the temptation, before waving him off. The warmth of his presence fades away, the further he gets, making me realize that Nathan Hartley has well and truly wormed himself back into my life, and back into my heart.
16
Nathan
I’d say that I was being entirely gentlemanly by offering to bring Isabella home after each of her shifts at work, but the thoughts that run through my mind are anything but. After reading her article, I struggled to formulate what I was feeling and thinking at the time. It was simultaneously terrifying and overwhelming. She’s one smart cookie, figuring out that my final game had been shitty, but it was clear she didn’t know the reason why. Her own conclusion is far less damming than the real reason I went rogue that night.
It’s been two weeks since she wrote that article and I’m still waiting for some kind of penny to drop with her. Her questions obviously stopped, and I can’t grumble at the reception her article received. Coach was gruntled that my past hadn’t shamed the team, so I’d say that was a win.
We’ve gotten a hell of a lot closer, our friendship becoming solid fast. I flirt when she flirts but it never goes any further. It’s strange really, we spend the days texting each other, and the nights talking to one another. I’d go as far as to say we’re practically in a relationship, just without the sexual benefits. I already feel like she’s wormed her way into my heart, and little by little, I feel like I’m doing the same to her, the more she opens up to me.
As the days go on, I find it hard to maintain my friendzone status. Though, I refuse to push her into something, even if I think she feels the same as I do. The tell-tale signs are all there. I swear if I hear her breathing hitch once more time, in reaction to my touch, I will lose all restraint. Isabella deserves a fucking award for her resolve as I’m so close to losing it. She asked for time to figure things out and I want to respect that, but the more I see her, the more I feel for her. She overwhelms my thoughts in the best way possible, though I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend I don’t feel everything for her.
Like now, I’m sat in a booth at The Hideout, surrounded by the team and all the ball bunnies you could imagine, but my mind is consumed by Isabella. She left not long ago, driving back to Grove Hill to see Isla for her birthday. I’d be a big fat liar, if I said that the thought of following her, to make sure she’s okay, hadn’t crossed my mind. But even I know that borders becoming obsessive.
I peel the label off my undrunk beer as Roxy settles in between me and Rory. Her gaze trails over my body before settling on my face.
“You could at least pretend like you want to be here.” She keeps her voice low so no one can hear. Over the years, I’ve perfected the art of fake pretense but over the past few weeks, I feel like I’ve become unraveled. I don’t want to hide behind a wink and a smirk. It’s gotten old real fast, especially since Isabella has come back into the picture.
Roxy grabs her drink - some fruity concoction of god knows what – and downs it. Her eyes then gaze away from me, to the pool tables in the corner, where Logan currently resides with a chick hanging on his arm. I can feel the jealousy rolling off Roxy when the girl laughs at something Logan says.
“You could at least pretend like you’re not jealous.” I whisper in her ear; her whole body stiffens, taking in what I’ve said. Her icy glare switches from Logan to me, her whiskey-colored eyes slightly glaze over from the amount she’s drunk. Roxy sticks her heel clad foot out, kicking me hard on the shin. I wince, knowing that that’ll probably bruise. Fuck, the girl has bigger balls than most of the dudes here.
“I’m not jealous. I’m just pissed that he’s barely said hello to me in weeks.” She grinds her teeth together, spitting the words out while firing daggers Logan’s way.
Cocking my head to the side, I study her, looking for any signs that she’s lying. Either she’s an exceptionally talented actress or she really is completely oblivious to Logan’
s feelings towards her. I mean the guy isn’t exactly showing them right now while he continues to let the chick whisper in his ear, but even I can see this is all an act. He may think he’s being stealth about it, but I’ve caught him, look our way at least ten times, and I’m pretty sure it’s not me he’s checking out.
In disbelief, I shake my head at her not understanding how blind she can be while Rory orders another round for the table. We all add our drinks to his tab before he then excuses himself to go and flirt with one of the bartenders; the guy is never one to miss an opportunity. As soon as he leaves, some dickhead slides in on the other side of Roxy. I eye the guy up, but Roxy evidently chooses to eat up his attention, slipping closer to him. I’m about to pull her back to my side, when Logan appears across the table, faster than I would think is humanly possible. His shadow looms over the guy, throwing him a murderous glance his way.
“You’re in my seat.” He flicks his gaze to the dude, who is still fawning over Roxy. The guy doesn’t even realize that he’s currently on the receiving end of a bull in a china shop. The dickhead might as well be waving a red flag in Logan’s face as he dismisses him with a flick of the wrist. Holy shit, I jump up just as Logan lunges for the dude. Stopping him before his fist can connect, I push him back through the crowd and outside into the street. I hook an arm around him and drag him into the nearest alleyway.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He questions then begins to pace up and down, the crisp night air doing little to calm the emotions I know is built up inside him.
“You need a breather. Do you really think I’m going to let you lay into some random dude?”
“I could have taken him.” I snort knowing that he could’ve, but he’s clearly blindsided by rage, to understand why I removed him from the situation.
“No doubt. But you need to get your shit together. You can’t go around punching every guy who even looks at Rox. She’s not yours to defend.” My words hit home as Logan runs his hair through his fingertips. The defeat that replaces the rage, almost has me backpedaling. He’s about to respond when we both hear footsteps behind us. An angry Roxy heads our way, stopping short of Logan, standing toe to toe with him.