In My Bed

  My heart stops and my breathing completely ceases.

  What have I done?

  I think back to the last thing I can remember. It’s fuzzy, but I definitely recall Drama-Major-Randy flirting with me at the bar. When my heart starts back up, it’s beating out of my chest. I wasn’t interested in him last night and I certainly didn’t want to bring him back to my room, but I don’t remember much after that last shot—the one I took to me.

  If there was anything left to repair between me and Nate, I just completely wrecked it. And I know I said I had nothing left after Nate hung up on me, but I’m just now realizing that I was wrong. I had everything left—and I fucking ruined it. Nate may have hurt me, and he may have made some mistakes, but deep down I know nothing happened with Hannah. For the past few years, I’d been avoiding a relationship to keep myself safe from someone who would be able to destroy me again.

  Who knew that the person who would destroy me would be me?

  I hold in the sob that wants to break free and I slide from bed. I’m already wearing a shirt, so I reach down and grab a pair of shorts from my floor, sliding them on. I stand up and take several large breaths, preparing myself for what I’m about to see in my bed. I’m hoping more than anything that Jimmy ended up crashing with me, but the chest that was pressed against me was far too broad to be little Jimmy’s.

  I turn around and take one more deep breath before I look up and see the most beautiful sight in the world—Nate. He’s fast asleep and he’s shirtless, but he’s still wearing his jeans. I look down and realize that I’m wearing his shirt. I pull it up to my face and inhale his wonderful scent.

  The relief I feel when I see that it’s not Drama-Major-Randy or any other guy is more than I can stand. I feel it well up inside me and I want to scream with absolute glee and jump on top of him and kiss him all over. In fact, I almost do. But then the weight of our issues presses down on my heart and I remember why I went out in the first place last night. I know that I want to work this out with him, but jumping on him isn’t the way. This isn’t something we can sweep under the rug and forget about.

  I creep out of my room and down to the bathroom. When I get out, I walk to Jimmy’s door instead of my own and knock. I need to know how Nate ended up in my bed, and since my memories are hazy at best, Jimmy is my best bet.

  I hear some rustling and an oomph of someone falling before the door swings open to reveal Jimmy standing there shirtless in a pair of track pants. Dan in lying in his bed, an arm propping up his head as he looks at me with a weak smile.

  “Am I interrupting?” I ask, looking from Dan back over to Jimmy.

  Jimmy shakes his head. “We were just waking up. A little hungover, but not mid-coitus. What’s up?” he asks, stepping aside so I can walk past him. He closes the door behind me and I take a seat on the floor as Jimmy sits on the bed next to Dan.

  “I need someone to help me fill in the memory gaps from last night.”

  Dan shakes his head. “I told you that tequila is the devil.”

  One hand flies to my mouth when he says tequila and I just realize I’m actually kind of nauseous. “Don’t say the T-word.”

  “You still feel sick?” Jimmy asks, concerned.

  “Still?”

  “Yeah. You were up half the night in the bathroom praying to the porcelain god.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. “I’m sorry you guys had to take care of me.”

  They both shake their heads. “It wasn’t us. Your boyfriend sat on the hard linoleum holding your hair back all night.”

  “Really?”

  They both nod.

  “See, this is where I need some filling in. The last thing I remember is Drama-Major-Randy hitting on me at the bar.”

  Jimmy nods. “Yeah, you flat out denied him. It was actually kind of funny.” He laughs. “You just threw your hand up in his face and told him he was a cheap imitation of the real thing. And since you had the real thing, you didn’t need the knock off. You said that Nate’s eyes were magical and his were like the polluted sky.”

  “Shit. No …”

  Jimmy laughs a little harder at my reaction. “Yeah, you sure did. He just laughed it off and walked away. Then you turned to me and told me you were calling Nate and telling him to cut the shit. You wanted to talk to him, and you wanted to talk now,” he says, stamping his foot on the bed and making it shake.

  Dan nods. “You even did the foot stomp thing. You looked just like my little cousin. She’s seven.”

  “And I’m assuming I called him …”

  “Yep. And he came and picked you up and took you home. When we got back here an hour later, you were both in the bathroom. But we already mentioned that,” Jimmy finishes.

  I close my eyes and try to remember what happened last night, and my flashes match with their account of the events. From what I can recall, the talk I wanted to have with Nate didn’t happen—and thank the porcelain god for that. This is a conversation I want to have while I’m sober, not drunk off my ass on cheap tequila.

  “How was he when he picked me up?”

  “Honestly? He was worried. We all were.” Jimmy’s forehead crinkles. “How many shots did you have of that stuff anyway?”

  “Too many,” I groan, my dull and throbbing headache a reminder of each and every one of them.

  “So I’m assuming you didn’t get any of that talking done that you wanted to do last night?” Dan asks.

  I shake my head and sigh, the weight of the conversation I’m about to have heavy on my chest. I close my eyes and try to gain the courage to get up and go do it now, but I’m having a hard time. I’m nervous about what Nate will say, but terrified that he won’t say anything at all. I can deal with a messy break-up story, but if he brushes me off again, I don’t think I’ll be able to move forward with him.

  And that scares me more than any story he could tell me.

  I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and wish that I could go back in time and never stop for that coffee—but avoidance has never been my thing. So instead of staying here on Jimmy’s dorm room floor, I open my eyes just in time to see him hopping off his bed. He walks over to me and offers his hand to help me stand. He pulls me up and the encouraging smile growing on his face gives me a little more confidence.

  “Go talk to him,” Jimmy urges. And then his smile grows bigger and he stomps his foot as he says, “Now.”

  ***

  When I walk back into my room, Nate is sitting up in bed, his eyes focused on me as I close the door behind me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice still rough from sleep.

  “Okay. Sorry I was so sick last night.”

  “It’s fine.”

  I stand there watching him while he sits on the bed and watches me, neither of us sure of what to say. He clears his throat and runs his palms up and down his thighs, back and forth, almost like he’s trying to rub away the awkward tension between us.

  “We should probably talk. I think I should explain some things.”

  I sigh and cross my arms. “We should talk, but you need to explain more than some things. I need you to explain everything. I have trust issues, we both know that. If you can’t or are unwilling to tell me everything we should just stop here because I won’t be able to be with you and trust you without knowing everything.” I finish strong, my voice only cracking once—maybe twice— on that last part.

  “If we’re going to talk and be open, I don’t want it to end in a fight. Yesterday we both said some things that we can’t take back, and I know we’re both sorry for the way that non-conversation went. Let’s promise to keep the insults and anger out of it this time,” he offers.

  I nod in agreement, letting my arms drop and play with the hem of his shirt that I’m wearing.

  He shifts toward the foot of the bed, patting his hand on the mattress as an indication for me to take a seat next to him. I walk over to my bed and sit down, moving my pillows out of the way and leaning against the headboard to face
him. And I wait for him to talk.

  He takes a deep breath and looks over at me. “I met with Hannah yesterday—”

  “Yeah, I know. You should probably learn how to properly mute your phone if you plan to use that feature in the future,” I snap. His eyes narrow on me and I remember what I just promised him. I sigh and try to keep from letting my anger do the talking. I can feel my expression relax and my voice is softer when I start talking again. “I overheard bits of the conversation while you thought I was on mute.”

  He closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath. I can see his hand shaking a bit and I know he’s nervous to talk to me about this. When he opens his eyes, he looks over at me and the vulnerability in them nearly knocks the wind out of me. “She invited me to meet with her and her therapist.”

  I furrow my brows in confusion. I want to ask him so many questions—interrogate him until every one of them has been answered. But I’m trying to trust him, and trusting him means giving him a chance to explain.

  “Do you remember when I first told you about Hannah? I said that the way things ended was pretty messed up?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I reply quietly.

  He breathes in through his nose and exhales through his mouth, the air passing slowly between his parted lips. “A couple of months after we lost the baby, I caught her flushing her birth control pills. She was trying to get pregnant again.”

  “What?” I’m totally surprised by this.

  He nods. “She said it had worked the first time—a baby bringing us closer together, and she wanted to be even closer to me. When I asked her to explain what that meant, she said that she’d gotten pregnant the first time on purpose to make me love her.”

  “Did she tamper with the condoms?” I ask him.

  Shaking his head, he answers, “We weren’t using condoms. Since we were exclusive and she said she was on the pill, we stopped using them.” He clenches his fists as he grinds out, “I trusted her.”

  “And she broke your trust,” I say, letting my hand move over to cover his.

  His fist opens and he threads his fingers through mine, giving a humorless laugh. He lifts our hands and studies them. “We’re a pair. The two of us and our trust issues.” He puts our intertwined hands down on the bed so they’re resting between us. “I broke up with her after that. There was no way I could ever trust her again—I didn’t want to.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nate. Why didn’t you tell me that before? Why didn’t you just tell me that yesterday?” It still doesn’t explain some of the stuff that happened at the coffee shop, but knowing how deeply she hurt him would have eased my fears a bit yesterday.

  And maybe I wouldn’t have doubted him as much.

  “I didn’t tell you before because it didn’t seem important. It’s always been hard to hate Hannah for what she did and I didn’t want to explain it. I lost my daughter, but I loved her even if I didn’t get to know her and I can’t regret the way she came to me.”

  I feel a tear roll down my cheek as I mourn for him again—always.

  “And I didn’t tell you yesterday because I was in shock and I was scared,” he explains.

  “Scared?”

  “There’s still more I haven’t told you,” he admits quietly, his chin dipping to touch his chest and his eyes falling closed.

  More?

  My grip loosens as I try to think about what else he may have to tell me, and the look on his face isn’t comforting. He takes the opportunity to pull his hand back, running both of them down his face before they fall to his lap. He clears his throat and glances over at me briefly before looking straight ahead of him at my dorm room wall.

  “After I’d broken up with her, I thought she’d realize that I was done with her, but she didn’t. It started off slowly—she’d show up at my apartment to drop off something of mine she still had, she’d call and text that she missed me. Normal break-up stuff. But then it started escalating. She was showing up in my classes, I’d see her following me in her car and she’d leave endless messages on my voicemail. So many that I had to change my number.”

  “It sounds like she was … was she stalking you?”

  He swallows and nods. “It got bad. Really bad. I didn’t report it because I knew she was still dealing with the loss of the baby, but then she took it too far.”

  Oh my god.

  I can hear his voice trembling and I can see his pulse throbbing in his neck. My own heart is racing and I can feel my palms start to sweat.

  “There was this girl I went to school with, Bethany. She was just a friend, but we had a lot of classes together and sort of became study partners. We spent a lot of time together and I guess Hannah picked up on it while she was watching me. She followed Bethany back to her dorm one day and forced her way in. Hannah accused her of sleeping with me and stealing me away. Luckily, Bethany’s boyfriend was coming up to meet her and he forced Hannah out. Bethany called me in tears and told me what happened. She assured me she wouldn’t press charges this time because she knew about what we’d been through with the loss of the baby. But I knew if it happened again, she wouldn’t hesitate to call the police.”

  “Oh my god, Nate.” I think back to when we met Hannah at the coffee shop. I think of how Nate looked, and now I can recognize an emotion I didn’t see before—he was in fear.

  “I called Hannah’s parents and told them what was going on and they told me some things I hadn’t known before. Apparently, Hannah had a miscarriage her senior year of high school. They thought she was fine, but this made them think she had never fully recovered. They flew down and took her back with them to get counseling.”

  “That’s … Nate, that’s …” I can barely even form thoughts right now, let alone words.

  “It’s fucked up,” he says, shaking his head.

  We both sit there in silence as I let it all sink in.

  “I should’ve told you before,” he admits, his words breaking through the silence. “That argument wouldn’t have happened and you would’ve known.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just tell me this yesterday?” I question. It would have been another way for him to avoid the argument.

  He groans. “I probably should have, but in the car I was just so scared. I didn’t know what to do. And when you pushed me to talk about something I was still trying to process, I reacted. It all snowballed from there and I just didn’t know how to fix it. At the time, I didn’t know what she was doing or why she was there. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence.” I remember him saying something like that to Hannah, but it makes much more sense now.

  “There was no way she hadn’t seen you standing there, but I still kept trying to step in front of you and block you from view. And she must’ve seen me holding you while we were standing in line, but maybe if she thought you were a friend …” He runs a hand through his hair. Just the memory of his interaction with her causes him stress. “I hadn’t talked to her therapist yet and I was scared she’d confront you. And you didn’t know what she was capable of.”

  And then it hits me and my heart picks up its pace, beating harder and faster. “Oh my god, Nate! She was at my school, outside my dorm. Is she … is she stalking me?” I ask, fear dripping from every word—every syllable. I’m not one to scare easily, but what Nate described and the dread in his voice when he talked about what Hannah did to Bethany …

  His eyes widen and he shakes his head, moving over to wrap his arm around me. He pulls me close, his warmth comforting me. “No, no, no. Oh my god, I’m such an asshole, I should’ve explained. She was meeting a friend. She didn’t know you went here.”

  “How do you know that, Nate?” I question with a shaky voice, hoping that he’s right.

  “I told you I met with her and her therapist, remember?” he says. “That’s what our conversation was about in the coffee shop. She told me she was doing better and asked me to meet with her therapist. She’s been wanting to apologize for a while, she just d
idn’t know how to get ahold of me.” His strong arm pulls me tighter to him, trying to ease the shaking in my body—his tone is reassuring and his touch is even more so.

  “We were in the waiting room of her therapist’s office when I got your text. She had told me she was better, but I was so worried she’d done something. After meeting with her therapist, I know she’s better. I can see it in her. I never knew a healthy Hannah. She was in pain before she ever met me.”

  “So she wasn’t—”

  “No,” he states emphatically. “She wasn’t stalking you.”

  I let out a relieved breath, the explicit statement going a long way to calm my fear.

  I don’t know what to say. “This is a lot, Nate,” I tell him.

  He agrees. “It is. Every once in a while, it almost feels like a dream. Like it was another life. Maybe someone else’s life.”

  “It’s like a Lifetime movie,” I murmur, turning into his embrace and sliding my arm around him.

  “That’s exactly what it’s like.” He laughs lightly. He lets his hand rub over my back and I relax into him. “I wish I would’ve told you all of that sooner,” he sighs.

  “Me too, but thank you for telling me now.”

  We shift so we’re lying down and he wraps his body around mine, our legs tangling and our arms wrapping around each other. I feel his ribs expand with each breath and I listen to each one, steady and calm. I match my breaths to his and let my body relax. I’m nearly asleep when I feel his lips press against my hair.

  “I’m sorry for keeping this from you. And I’m sorry for fighting with you yesterday,” he whispers.

  “I’m sorry I pushed so hard. Regardless of what I saw or thought, I should’ve known that seeing her would rattle you. I should’ve given you the minute you asked for,” I say into his chest.

  “Are we okay?” he asks, sounding worried.

  I move back a bit so I can look up at him. “There’s nothing else?”

  “I’m an open book.” He smiles.

  I shake my head and pull out of his embrace a little more. “I’m serious, Nate.”