by Lisa Swallow
This is exhausting me too. My addiction to sex with Nate has me paying babysitters so Mum doesn’t judge or refuse, and sneaking off for late nights with Nate before stumbling home in the early hours. Tonight is my “official” night off when Mum babysits, but I’m hesitant to stay with Nate overnight and face questions later.
An evening in bed with Nate is usual, but now the time spent isn’t the physical level we told ourselves it would be. Some evenings, we curl up together and chat about the world existing beyond the borders of the band and my job, or we mock each other’s taste in movies and fight over who chooses what we watch. Gradually the life in Yorkshire catches up; covering this Nate and Riley with the peace we created together. Three weeks in and what began as once a week is now five days out of seven. And what we told ourselves would be a month of casual sex is becoming more.
The evening ends in Nate’s bed, with the usual weird silence that should be more awkward than it is.
“What time is it?” I ask and roll onto my side to grab the nearest phone. Midnight. “I should go.”
Nate grabs my arm as I make to get out of the bed. “Why? Stay.”
“I don’t know…”
“I’ve seen what you look like in the morning, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He grins at me.
“Like I care.” I muss my hair up so it hangs in my face, and Nate laughs.
“Don’t girls like the waking-up cuddling and crap like that?”
“I do. But—”
“But you always have to leave.” Nate flops back and looks up at the ceiling. “Is it just me you’re scared of getting close to, or anybody?”
I ignore him and pull on his discarded shirt. “I need a drink. Want anything from the kitchen before I go?”
He stares at the ceiling. “Beer.”
I stand in Nate’s small kitchen and hold in tears. I want this. I want him. But this pretence will never make the transition to reality. I fill a glass with water, and a tear escapes. I scrub it away and open a beer for Nate, aware of the weird pattern of domesticity we’re falling into. Why the hell did I start something that will destroy me when it finishes?
Nate hasn’t moved from his position on the bed, the blue sheet moulding around his hips and chest. “For you.” I pass him the beer.
“I was engaged once.”
His words come from nowhere as I drink, and I swallow the mouthful before my incredulity sends the water spraying over him.
“You were? You kept that quiet. When?”
“Not recently.”
The girl. “What happened?”
“I didn’t get married.”
“Oh.” Does Nate want me to ask more? To tell me more?
He lets out a soft laugh. “I told you once before. Nobody else knows, and you forgot, which is fucking hilarious. My second biggest secret and you were asleep when I told you.”
“Doesn’t Will know?”
“No. Nobody.”
I sit on the bed. “Why are you telling me?”
“Dunno. Maybe so you know I’m not a heartless bastard incapable of a relationship.” He grips the beer; doesn’t move or drink.
“Okay…”
“How about you?” He tips his head around and traps me in the intensity I’ve seen once, maybe twice, before. Nate’s decision to share this with me is almost as big a shock as him telling me I already knew.
“I’ve never been engaged. Never really had a proper relationship. I told you, too busy.”
“Hmm.” He places his beer on the table next to the bed. “So what’s your secret? Because I reckon you have one.”
My scalp prickles. “None. I’m just a highly-strung commitment phobe.”
“Ha.” Nate props himself up on one elbow and looks at me. “We’re a good match.”
Yeah, because a relationship between two people scared of commitment due to past experiences is really going to end well.
“What are you trying to say, Nate?”
“We’re pretending this is just sex, aren’t we?”
What I see in Nate’s eyes recently is a world from the distant, hard look from weeks ago; and usually, if I catch glimpses of the open Nate, he always looks away. But this time the eyes fixed on mine search for answers.
“I think we always were,” I say and touch his face. “Easier to say this is about sex and nothing else than admit we could be more.”
“You think I feel more?”
“We both do. We hated each other. That’s an emotion, and we’ve redirected it. That can’t be replaced with nothing.”
Nate kisses me, sliding his lips against mine, and my pulse hikes. Are we finally doing this? “Do you want more from this? Make things complicated.”
“Since when was sex uncomplicated between two people who feel more about each other?” I whisper.
I wait for Nate to look away, to move from me, and push away what we both repress, but he doesn’t. “I want you. Us. You do too, or I wouldn’t say this.”
I’ve been physically close to Nate over and over the last few weeks, looked into his eyes and seen glimpses of this; inadvertently shared the same. That time in the snow, we fell into a place we struggle to pretend doesn’t exist.
“Same,” I say. “I’d like to give this a go. I want the world to know about us, to know I’m not something you’re trying to hide.”
Nate traces a finger across my lips. “I want guys to know you’re mine and to keep away.”
Uh. Not good. “Where has this come from, Nate? Is this about the other day? About Mitchell?”
Nate’s jaw clenches. “I don’t like competition.”
Wow. “Is this possessiveness or jealousy, Nate? Neither is okay.”
He places his lips gently on mine and breathes in, inhaling me, his eyes closed. “I can’t help how watching you with him made me feel.”
“Not used to girls paying attention to other guys?” I ask.
He laughs and switches to kissing my face, light, ticklish kisses. “I’m in a band with two other guys, of course I am. But this time, it’s different.”
I move my head and look into the intense green eyes. “What happens now?”
Nate winds my long hair around his hands. “We skipped a stage, Riley, The one we started two years ago. Let’s go back there.”
My heart somersaults in my chest, at how good and how bad his suggestion is. At how much I want him and how much I can’t have this.
“That means letting everybody know about us.”
Nate rolls back over and drags me onto him. “Yeah.”
“Wow. Okay.”
“I’m in if you are. If nothing else it’ll be fucking hilarious to see their faces.”
I run my hands across his naked chest. I have this part of Nate, the uncomplicated part. But how can two people so similar who choose to spend this much time together remain uncomplicated?”
“C’mon. Admit it. You want to do this.”
Yes. A million times, yes, but equally no. If I let go of control here, I’m forced to change everything. Tell everything. But what choice do I have? My heart isn’t interested in logic. “You’re right. Let’s do this to shock them.”
We’ve touched on something we swore we’d never allow or talk about, the intimacy Nate shares with his kisses and the story we tell each other with lips and hands. This is what we want, but we’ve a long way to go before we say anything to leave ourselves vulnerable.
“Where?” I ask. “When?”
“Jax and Tegan bought a new place. They’re having a housewarming.”
“Tegan invited me, and I said no.”
“Why?”
I sigh. “Why do you think, Nate?”
“We go together. Simple.”
“Throw me to the wolves, why don’t you?” I mutter.
Nate smiles and runs both hands along my thighs as he looks up at me. “It’s fine; there’ll be a lot of people there. Tegan loves her big parties.”
“But still…”
“How else do you want to do it? Take everybody out for a drink and make an announcement?”
I pull a face. No. “And what do we say when we get there?”
“What do you want to say?”
“Up to you.”
Nate cocks a brow. “Don’t leave the talking to me.”
“Very true.” How can I put this into words without sounding too intense? “I’ll tell them I beat Nate Campbell into submission?”
A smile tugs at his mouth. “And I’ll tell them I gave Riley Sawyer what she wanted?” I slap his chest and he grabs my wrist. “Tell them we’re together, Riley. Simple.”
Simple.
“So now you know you’re mine, you can stay here tonight.” He spins me over, pinioning me. “You know I can be very persuasive.”
I lose myself in Nate, in us, and the realisation my life will change. Whether this works with Nate or not, my secret won’t stay hidden. I won’t be the Riley everybody knows anymore. Including Nate.
26
RILEY
Nate’s words cycle around my head all the following day. I wait for a text or call, the paranoia he’ll change his mind following me the next day. He doesn’t contact me , not unusual as we don’t speak every day, but the decision we made took our relationship to another level and we need to talk about this in the light of day.
I’m on the train, heading home, when my phone pings with a message from Nate:
I clutch the phone, and the woman opposite me glances up from her phone. I straighten my smiling face. Did I just make an excited noise?
<@ the house>
I wait but no new message appears. Even with his texts, Nate is aloof. I shake my head and tuck the phone away. That’s as close to organising a date we get, I suppose.
Date. Relationship. The reality is allowed to take over my fears now. Nate and Riley in public together as a couple.
I now have a day to get used to the idea and figure out how to tell Nate about Josh. My optimism sinks and the familiar circling confusion starts. Should I tell Nate before the party? If he ends things when I do, the humiliation will be greater if we’ve announced our relationship. But I never tell a guy I’m dating that I’m a single mum apart from once and that was a mistake. Why should I break the pattern with Nate?
Josh is staying at Mum’s for the night, fortunately, because she wants to take him somewhere for the day, and not because I asked her to. Lauren, Josh’s childminder, and one of my handful of friends, arrives on my doorstep with a bottle of wine. This ritual used to be weekly, but recently we cut back to monthly as life over the school holidays took over. Her curly brown hair falls across her shoulders, pursed lips on her pretty face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “You look like I’ve brought you a dead dog not a bottle of sav blanc.”
“No, sorry. I forgot you were coming over. I should’ve told you I was going out tonight.”
Lauren looks me up and down. “I was going to ask. Somewhere special with a guy?”
“A party.”
“With a guy?” Lauren gestures the shortness of my blue dress and lower cut than usual neckline. “Or hoping to catch one?”
“Oh no. Do I look slutty?” I tug at the edge of the skirt. “I’ll wear low heels. A scarf.” I scurry back upstairs and return with a blue and white silk scarf and black shoes.
“Work shoes, Riley? Don’t. Wear the gorgeous, expensive heels, be confident who you are, and sod anybody who judges you.” She pushes a goldfish-bowl-sized wine glass at me.
I take a too large drink and head back upstairs reappearing with heels that will bring me closer to Nate’s face, and discover my wine glass has been refreshed.
Lauren sits, her yoga pants and jacket a world away from my clothes.
“Where’s Joshy?” Lauren asks.
“He just left with his grandma.”
“Ohh, big night, then. Is it a date?”
“Kind of. I’m not sure.”
Lauren wipes lipstick from the rim of her glass. “Lots you’re not sure about tonight, Riley. Come on, tell me.”
“The old problem. When to tell a guy about Josh.”
“Hmm.” She taps the table, then exclaims, “You haven’t painted your nails!” My make-up tote is open on the table and she rummages through. “Hold your hand out.”
“I had a manicure last week.”
“I think you need blue nails to match your dress!” She undoes the varnish bottle and grabs my left hand. “Right, spill. Why are you worrying about telling this guy about Josh? You haven’t mentioned the guy to me before so he can’t have made his way up to the ‘talk about Josh’ rung of the ladder yet.”
I manage to drain my wine glass with my free hand. “I know my rule, but I already know this guy.”
She looks up. “Guy from work? To be honest that would be a good idea, I’ve been telling you for months it’s about time you told everybody.”
“Not from work. Strictly speaking.” I sigh. “Aren’t there any single dads I could find?”
Lauren chuckles. “Short supply and I wouldn’t think a good match for you. Come on, who is he?” She pauses to refill the glasses, takes a long drink, and takes hold of my other hand, brush poised.
“Remember when I was snowed in at the pub last month?”
Lauren fights a laugh as she paints on blue polish. I pout at her. “Sorry. Yes, I do.”
“I kinda hooked up with somebody.”
The nail brush hovers above my middle finger as Lauren pauses. “Not… do you mean you… Who? Not the rock star!” Her mouth gapes and when I frown she focuses back on my nails.
“No, the middle-aged bar man,” I say sarcastically.
“Ha ha.” She wipes the varnish into the bottle and screws the lid on. “Bloody hell, Riley. Nate Campbell?”
“We’ve seen each other again a few times since. Casually.”
I met Lauren three years ago, when she began childminding Josh at her place but, as with anybody, I’ve kept my private life separate. I couldn’t have her cross paths with my work, so she’s been my confidante, on the periphery.
“Let me get this straight. The tour you went on with Blue Phoenix and Ruby Riot. The one I would’ve killed to go with you, wasn’t Nate the guy who pissed you off?” Understatement. “Or was that the other guy? Will?”
“The whole band was difficult.”
“No, I seem to remember you were really upset with one of them.”
More wine. I drink half the glass. I’ve wanted to tell somebody about Nate for weeks and the words sound wrong.
“Nate. So this guy you practically hated and avoided, you just casually decided to get into his bed?”
“We were bored. Or something. I don’t know, but we just…” Lauren raises a brow. “Yeah. And we enjoyed it so we thought we’d… meet up back in London.”
Lauren splutters. “You’re funny. You make it sound like you enjoyed a nice meal together, not had down and dirty sex with a rock star.”
I gulp my wine, then say in a low voice, “We had incredible sex and we’ve had more since.”
“You never told me. Why not? Riley!”
“I haven’t told anybody. It’s not serious. Just sex. Or it wasn’t.”
“But now you’re going to a party with him.” I nod. “A celebrity party?” She rests back in her seat and sips her wine. “Oh wow. You might want to reconsider the ‘not serious’ part.”
“I know. This is a new direction for us, which is why I’m not sure if it’s time to mention Josh.”
“I’d tell Nate soon. If press gets wind you’re with Nate, someone will have a dig around in your past. How long do you think until they find out about Josh? I’d give
it a day. Tops.”
“Shit. I didn’t consider that.”
“So I think you answered your own question, lovely. Best the news comes from you.” She chews her lip. “How do you think he’ll react?”
“That’s the problem, I don’t know. I can guess though, we’ll probably be over soon.”
She tops my glass up again. “I hope you haven’t fallen for him, Riley, because if you have you might fall on your ass.”
“Nice, thanks.”
“Just being realistic.”
My head lightens with the wine and Lauren’s words. I should’ve spoken to her about this when I came back from Yorkshire, instead of walking around in my happy, sex-crazed haze. “You’re right. I’ll tell him tonight. After the party. Shit, I wish I’d said something before. Why didn’t I?”
Lauren curls her hand around mine. “Because it’s a hard topic to bring up, and you’re falling for him. I can tell, haven’t seen you this bright since whatshisname.”
“Elliott. And look how that worked out.” Elliot Cambridge, a man I dated briefly a couple of years ago. One who had a bad case of cold feet the minute I told him I had a son.
“Better to know sooner rather than later, if he’s likely to drop you like a hot brick.”
I smile, a smile I don’t feel like giving, and finish my wine. One more night with Nate, a confession, and then Monday I tell the world.
This time I swear I will.
27
RILEY
I catch a cab across the city and meet up with Nate. Finishing the bottle of wine with Lauren possibly wasn’t the best idea but helps with the nerves. I formulate my story on the journey.
Nate’s waiting in the street, resting against the high wall surrounding the property, with his hood pulled across his face and hands in pockets. He doesn’t speak as I approach, or open his arms to greet me. I could talk to him before we go inside? Sure, Riley because that’s exactly the conversation you want to have in the street.
“You look bloody scary loitering like that,” I say.
“Huh.” He pulls himself away from the wall. “Ready?”
“I’m not sure you are.”
“Why?”
I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Nate pushes his hood down. “What’s wrong?”