That very night, I realized what I was doing was wrong. I had cheated so many times before—even before Sharon—but I was so immature. I only did it because I’d always dated girls who were hot and in the end would fuck me over. I could never figure out why I enjoyed the one night stands. I guess it was because with a one night stand, there are no feelings involved. You don’t have to care.
But with Natalie, I started to feel bad for my inner thoughts. I started to hate myself for hurting girls just because I was hurt. I had no reason besides the fact that I was immature. I admit there were a ton of girls who would call me the next day or even the next week looking for more from me but I couldn’t afford more. When I saw them, I would act like I didn’t even know them.
Sharon was the main girl I actually wanted something with before I had moved to Miami. The girls before her, I liked a lot, but they ended up destroying me as well. I seriously tried—especially after Mills told me not to fuck up anymore—but after Sharon I didn’t care anymore. She made me not want to give a damn about love. I hated love at one point because being in love is what had hurt me.
I don’t know what it is exactly that made me fall for Natalie but I want her back and I don’t care how I get her into my arms again, I just know I will. I’m not giving up on the girl who proved to me that there’s always a person who can bring out the best in someone else.
Chapter Eleven
Natalie
Harper pulls up to an Italian restaurant that’s on the border of Miami Beach. The seats we’re given by the hostess are amazing. We’re on the patio outside where a cool breeze continues to pass by and tons of white candles are sitting on the tables. It could pass for a romantic scene but we’re here as girls to gobble down some real food and then destroy some rich chocolate cake.
“This is so pretty,” Harper says as she places a hand on her chin, her elbow on top of the table.
“It really is.” We gaze out towards the beach where the water is rushing to the shore and then hurrying back. We watch it repeatedly before Harper finally sighs dramatically and looks my way.
“I have to tell you something,” she says.
I grab my cup of water and take a sip. “What?”
“I think Dawson went to Tampa to see an ex.”
My eyes narrow as I turn to face her, providing all of my attention. “What? Why would you say that?”
“Because he pocket dialed me last night and I heard a girl’s voice—and it wasn’t like a family member’s voice. She was giggling and saying his name as if he was messing around with her and she was trying to get him to stop. I didn’t want to think negatively but he hasn’t called me all day. I’m starting to worry.”
Harper’s gaze shifts to the body of water ahead again. It’s now that I notice she’s been acting a little off today. Even this morning, I could see the depression in her eyes but Harp has a good way of hiding things. I could tell something was wrong but had no time to ask because I had to get to class.
“Maybe you should confront him about it.”
“No, Nat.” She groans, planting her elbows on the table and rubbing her temples with her forefingers. “I just—I should have known he was too perfect. He treats me too good. I’m so blinded by him that I never think maybe he’s treating another girl the exact same way as he’s treating me.” She looks up at me and her hands fall, causing the table to rattle. “I didn’t tell you, but he mentioned another girl’s name in his sleep. It was like Ivy or something. I don’t know. I asked him the next morning who Ivy was and he brushed me off—acted like I was the one who was delusional.”
My mouth clamps shut, unsure of what to say. What can I say to that when I’m the one who told her to give him a chance? “Dawson just doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would hurt anyone. Nolan told me he doesn’t condone cheating, Harp.”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” she breathes.
As I open my mouth to speak, a waitress comes to our table in a collared burgundy shirt and black pants. She flashes a smile at us as she folds her fingers in front of her. “Hi. I’m Michelle. I’ll be your waitress for tonight. Can I start you off with anything to drink?”
I order a Mountain Dew and Harper orders a glass of wine.
“Great. I’ll get them right away. By the way, we have a great special tonight. There’s baked fish coated with lemon and steak with your choice of sides each only eight-ninety-nine.”
“That’s great,” Harp says. “I think I’ll take both once you’re back.”
I laugh and the waitress nods with a large smile. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“I feel nauseous,” Harper says after the waitress has walked off. I look at her, puzzled, and she sighs, leaning her back against her chair. “Be honest with me. Do you think he’s cheating on me?”
“No, Harper.” I grab her hands and she looks at me beneath her eyelashes. Her eyes water but she forces herself to blink quickly to get rid of the tears. “Harp, I don’t think Dawson is that way. It could have been anyone. When he comes back, you can talk to him about it. Just don’t think negatively. He loves you. He watches your every move. I always catch him staring at you when you aren’t looking.”
“I know,” she nods. “I just . . . I don’t want this to end. No offense, but I see how unhappy you are that you and Nolan are taking a break but I don’t want a break. I don’t want him away from me or with anyone else but me.”
My chest tightens as she brings Nolan up. I release my grip from her hands, taking a glance at my phone sitting on top of the table. Not even a text message. I wonder what he’s doing in California right now. Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Has he thought about calling me just as bad as I’ve been dying to call him? To distract my mind of annoying relationship problems, I turn to look at Harper who is picking at her cuticles.
“Is it bad I met someone today?”
In an instant, she looks up at me and her eyes are as wide as golf balls. “Nat! What about Nolan?”
“Nolan hasn’t called me in three days.”
“Yeah because you weren’t answering. I would have stopped calling, too. That shit is really frustrating.”
“He doesn’t call sober, Harp. I have my reasons.”
She flings her hand, her head shaking negatively. Harper’s blonde hair is longer and reaches her shoulder blades again, just like it used to be back in high school. “Whatever. So, who’s the guy?”
“He said his name was Tyler Stokes—”
“What?” she screeches, interrupting me. “The Tyler Stokes.”
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean,” I say through a dry laugh, “but it’s the name he gave me.”
“Tyler Stokes throws some of the wildest parties here in Miami. His mom has a lake house on the far end and he throws a party there every time she’s out of town. I heard there’s supposed to be one this weekend—oh shit, Nat, we should definitely go.”
“Um . . . I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”
Her eyebrows draw in. “Why not?”
“Because I kind of . . . blew him off.”
This time she frowns. “What the hell? Why would you blow someone like him off? He’s too hot for words and if he’s interested in you that makes you one lucky bitch. Tyler’s only had one girlfriend and that was back in tenth grade. He doesn’t date at all or even bother to ask girls out. They usually go running after him.”
“Well, not this time. He chased after me when class was over.” I narrow my eyes at her. “I could have sworn you were just defending Nolan. Now you’re upset because I blew some guy I know nothing about off?”
“Well . . . he’s just someone every girl goes nuts over. You should be proud of that. It means you’re one sexy chick. If he were to ask me out, I doubt that I would say no. I would say yeah just to get a feel of what it may be like with a guy who isn’t usually up for dating.”
“That’s you,” I sigh. “I told him Nolan and I are on a pause bu
t I’ve decided if things don’t get better within the next few days, I might give Tyler a call.”
“Oh, good,” she says, smirking. “You’re playing the “hard-to-get” game. What guy wouldn’t want a challenge?”
I giggle. “I really didn’t think of it that way.”
The waitress steps back up to the table with our drinks. After we’ve ordered our food, she dashes away again, leaving us ample time to continue our chat until our food is ready. As Harper continues to talk about Tyler, I actually start to become intrigued. He sounds unique—like someone who will do anything to get what he wants. Someone like Nolan.
“So if it doesn’t work out with Nolan you’re really going to give Tyler a chance?” Harper asks, placing her fork down.
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I really want to work this out with Nolan but he just isn’t the same. I wish you could have seen him. He was someone else. Mellow, depressed, silent. He hardly talked to me and when he did, we would end up arguing. It wasn’t like us. I can’t blame him for being hurt over his loss but I thought we were stronger than this.”
“I understand,” she says. “When bad things happen, it causes some to change. Not everyone is a “coper” . . . if that makes sense. I feel bad for him but he shouldn’t have let his emotions break it off with you. I’m sure he regrets it now—especially if he called the same night you left. Guys are complete fuck-ups, I swear. Too bad we have to live with the fuckers.”
I nod my head in agreement and Harper changes the subject quickly. She goes over how her major degrees of Fashion Merchandising and Interior Design are going and she even talks about Dawson a bit more. We continue our chat and it bothers me to the max that I can’t stop thinking about Nolan. It’s really time for me to call him. I’m sick of the games. As soon as I get home, we’re discussing everything and I don’t care if it takes all night as long as we’re on the right track again.
****
It’s like a fucking game of phone tag when I call Nolan. I called him as soon as I got home—before I’d even stepped foot into my bedroom—and he didn’t answer. He called back while I was in the shower but I immediately called him as soon as I saw it. Of course he didn’t answer. Now I’m staring at my phone, hoping he’ll call back.
Unfortunately, a few hours pass and my wariness gets a hold of me. I grip my phone in my hand and stare at the screen for a few minutes before deciding to shoot him a text. I wait for ten whole minutes but he doesn’t text back and as bad as I want to wait up, my eyelids grow heavy and I end up falling asleep.
Around three in the morning and I’m awake to six missed calls . . . all from Nolan. There’s even a voicemail. Sitting up quickly, I dial the voicemail and listen to it.
“Damn it, Natalie. Pick up your fucking phone. Are you trying to confuse me? I don’t understand why you’ve been ignoring me and if you’re calling because you want to end what we have, then don’t. I’m not going to give up on us. I’m not letting our relationship come to an end. I’ve worked too damn hard in keeping this going before and I refuse to let it go now. I refuse to be a part of your past.” He sighs through the phone and my heart pounds against my rib cage as he sniffles. I know for sure that he’s drunk and crying. “I just . . . I love you too fucking much, Natalie. I miss you,” he continues. “I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry,” he sputters. “Just please stop ignoring me. Please don’t let this go.”
The phone clicks and I drop the phone slowly, staring down at it. Tears threaten to spill but I bite back on them. Hopping out of bed, I rush for the window and pull it open. I gulp the warm night air down that’s heavy with the scent of salt. The beach is near and the feeling is satisfying.
Instead of lingering around my window, I grab a jacket and hurry for the living room. I grab a few sheets of paper from the coffee table, a pen, and then hurry for the balcony. All of it then pours out of me. Even with the tears blinding me. Even with the hurt lingering within my soul.
It’s a deadly feeling to be so confused and lost. To feel so hopeless and fucked up. The last few lines are what I’ll remember the most of this lonely night:
Buried deep in hurt, freezing from heartache
Hidden behind locked doors, releasing all that won’t make me
Feel again
Chapter Twelve
Nolan
“Why the hell isn’t she answering?” I slur, sitting on the edge of the couch.
Shrugging, Mills slumps down beside me. “Don’t know. She probably doesn’t want to be with your wallowing ass anymore.”
I look at him quickly, scowling. “Yeah right. She loves me too much.”
“Sometimes you have to set the ones you love free.” He grabs his bottle of beer from the table and takes a swig. “Not saying she’s too good for you. I just feel bad for her. I feel bad for you for letting her go. Now you’re miserable.”
“I know,” I groan as I sit forward. “I feel like shit.” I take another swig of what is probably my fourth bottle of beer. I sit on Mills’s words and then terrible thoughts come to mind. What if she called to break it off? What if she keeps calling because she wants to explain why we won’t work out? “Holy shit,” I mutter, standing. I rush outside and dial her number again. I pace back and forth on the front lawn, waiting for her to pick up but of course it goes to voicemail once again. Instead of hanging up I wait for the beep.
“Damn it, Natalie. Pick up your fucking phone. Are you trying to confuse me? I don’t understand why you’ve been ignoring me and if you’re calling because you want to end what we have, then don’t. I’m not giving up on us. I’m not letting our relationship come to end. I’ve worked too damn hard in keeping this going before and I refuse to let it go now. I refuse to be a part of your past.” I sigh heavily and that’s when I realize that I’m actually crying. Damn it, I hate crying but it always seems to happen when I’m drunk and at my most vulnerable. But right now I don’t give a fuck. I want her to know how I feel. “I just . . . I love you too fucking much, Natalie. I miss you,” I continue. “I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry. Just please stop ignoring me. Please don’t let this go.”
Eventually, I run out of stuff to say and hang up. I take a few steps backwards until I’m on the porch. I sink down into one of the wooden rocking chairs and stare ahead at the empty street. The streetlight to my right is blinking and a stray cat is resting at the end of our driveway but it’s all a blur. I’m so fucking stupid for letting her go. Maybe she’s teaching me a lesson. If she is I’ve learned already and I won’t do it again. I want this grief to be over with already.
A crazy thought then comes to mind. Pulling my lips in, I bite on them until it hurts. I stand, tuck my phone into my back pocket, and then rush for the door. I barge in and Mills flinches on the sofa, his sleepy eyes meeting mine. “Mills, we have to go back soon—next week, maybe. I can’t deal with this shit anymore.”
His eyes widen before he frowns. “Next week? Are you fucking crazy? We can’t sell this house that damn fast.”
“We’ll come back if we have to,” I say. “I swear. We can deal with it after I settle this shit with Natalie. I . . . I just can’t deal with this anymore. I have to tell her I’m sorry face-to-face. It’s the only way she’ll really hear me out.”
He looks me over several times before finally sighing. “You really love this girl? You really want her back?”
“More than you think.”
“I can see that.” Standing, he runs his palms across his jeans and then stretches. “Alright. Next week it is. You know we’re already tight on money so first round of bills are on you when we get back to Miami.” He looks me over again before narrowing his eyes, his smile fading. “I’m telling you right now if we’re rushing to get over there for nothing, I’m beating your ass. You better have her back in your arms before this month is over.”
“I will.”
“I’m not joking, Nolan,” he scolds. Right after, he smirks. “Plus I’m only doing it because I miss my girl and I could use s
ome of her right now.” He stumbles his way towards his room with a hearty laugh. His door shuts and I smile, realizing this is the breakthrough I need.
I’m getting her back.
Chapter Thirteen
Natalie
I don’t think I’ve been this worried to run into a guy since the first time I’d met Nolan. For some reason, I feel like running into Tyler again will be a bad thing. After the way Harper made him seem two nights ago, I know he’s going to work hard in capturing me, just like Nolan.
Sighing, I stand behind the classroom door, checking my phone for the time. I’m five minutes late. Great. Now he’s making me not want to attend my favorite class of this semester.
After Nolan’s voicemail the other night, I know we can work it out and I don’t want to move on from someone that I care for deeply . . . from someone I’m in love with. The only thing I hate is that he’s getting drunk over there.
Finally grabbing the door handle, I step inside and shut it behind me. Professor Doran looks up at me as I walk down the aisle and I allow my eyes to apologize for me as much as I can but he looks away too quickly to catch the gesture. Glancing to my left, that’s when I spot Tyler in the corner . . . at my regular table . . . watching me.
Damn it! What the hell is this guy’s problem? Instead of going for my usual spot, I take a seat at the empty table in the middle of the room. I drop my notebook, pull out a pen, and then write down the objective of today which is Shakespeare. It’s odd how Professor Doran can go from a grunge poet to a tragically romantic play writer.
As I write each thing down, I feel a pair of heavy eyes boring holes through the left side of my head. I force myself not to look, but the inner girl inside of me never listens and I peek over my shoulder.
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