Nate: If that’s what you want to do, I’m not going to say no…
I don’t know how to answer that at first, but I don’t have to.
Nate: Or you could just lay here with me in my bed and tell me all your secrets while I run my fingers through your cotton candy hair. I wouldn’t say no to that either.
Me: What makes you think I have any secrets to tell?
Nate: We all have secrets…
Me: Tell me one of yours.
I drop my phone on the bed, stand up and strip out of my clothes before stretching into a thin tank top and pair of shorts to sleep in. Reaching over to flip off the light, the screen on my phone lights up as he replies, guiding me back across the room to my bed. I swipe it up, fall into bed and wiggle around until I find my comfortable position before checking the screen.
Nate: I still sleep with the stuffed elephant I’ve had since I was born. His name is Waffles and I can’t believe I’m hitting send right now. Please kill me. You now know one of my deepest, darkest secrets. Do you have any idea how powerful that is?
Me: And does Waffles make you feel safe?
Nate: Yeah. You know what else makes me feel safe?
Me: A night light?
Nate: Are you mocking me?
Me: No. I would never…
Nate: Sure… Okay. I see how it is.
Me: I’m scared of dolls. There, now you’ve got something on me.
I can almost see his eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth scrunching as he shakes his head before typing: Seriously? Dolls?
Me: Dolls are creeps. With their staring eyes and puckered up, painted on mouths. And don’t even get me started on the ones who talk. Oh, and also clowns. I hate clowns so much, you have no idea. Totally cliché, I know, but there you have it.
Nate: LOL
Me: Great, now I’m going to have nightmares and you’re laughing at me.
Nate: I would protect you from the clowns and the dolls and the dolls dressed like clowns.
Me: You and Waffles?
Nate: Damn straight. Waffles doesn’t take shit from anyone. Not even harmless little Barbies wearing face paint.
Me: There is nothing harmless about Barbie…
We’re quiet for a few minutes, and I start to think maybe he’s falling asleep, then my screen lights up again.
Nate: Tell me another secret.
Me: You first.
Nate: Ok…
I watch the ellipsis that signals his typing until the screen starts to fade, and then his next message pops up.
Nate: You know how I said I’m not very good at this? For a while now I’ve started to wonder if I even have a heart. Sometimes I don’t feel it beating inside me, and it makes me feel like I’m… I don’t know, like I’m not really alive anymore. There are things… things I’ve done and things I’ve been through, things that should make me cry, but I’ve never shed a single tear, and that makes me feel like I’m some kind of robot. But whenever I see you, when I’m near you, I feel things again. You make me feel like I’m alive, Tali, and I barely know you. It freaks me out a little.
My throat tightens, the sliver of his unhappiness seeping through that moment and clenching around my heart like a fist. I want to type back, ask him what happened to him. What things he should cry about. How he could possibly think he doesn’t have a heart. I’ve felt it beating, the pulse of his blood moving through his veins as his wrist aligns with mine when we hold hands. The thump of muscle beneath his chest when I lean into him…
There is a depth to this conversation, texting isn’t enough to ask him why. Maybe it’s just an excuse. Maybe there’s a part of me that doesn’t want the perfection I see when I look at him to shatter, not yet, not before he’s sunk himself so deep into my heart there’s no turning away from his imperfections. God, that’s so shallow. Isn’t it?
Me: Being alive is a beautiful thing, Nathaniel Thorne. Don’t let it freak you out. Just live.
I let him sit with that for a moment, then I type: And now, for my next secret… It’s at least a hundred degrees in here and I’m sleeping with your sweatshirt.
A little smiley icon flashes across the screen, followed by a sideways heart and I roll my face into the pillow to muffle the sound of my own squeak.
FIFTEEN
And just like that, Nate and I become each other’s every waking moment. He comes home from work, knocks on the door before he’s even gone home to change his clothes and asks if Arthur and I want to go swimming with him and Delilah at his gram’s house. We swim until the sun starts to set around 9, and then we stop at Double Dippers on Main Street to get the kids ice cream before dropping them off back at home.
Reaching over to wipe a smear of sprinkles from Delilah’s cheek, she giggles when she nips her teeth at me like she’s gonna bite off my finger if I don’t redeposit the rainbow beads of sugar on her cone, but then her eyes are instantly drawn to the motorcycle that rumbles into the parking lot. Shoving the cone into my hand, she jumps up and races toward the driver, squealing, “Cody!” excitedly as she throws her arms around his waist and hugs him.
Something inside me tightens a little as I follow her, but it instantly relaxes when I realize he doesn’t have Gretchen on the back of his bike. It makes me feel like an awful person, but then he’s bounding toward us, Delilah holding on tight to his midsection and slowing him down.
“Look who I found,” she announces, beaming up at him with sparkles in her dark blue eyes. I can’t help grinning over at Nate, who rolls his eyes and starts to stand up.
“Come on, Dee, get off.”
“She’s fine,” Cody waves it off. “In fact, she’s better than fine.” Prying her arms off, he kneels down in front of her, his perfect smile widening as he shakes his head and declares, “Jesus, what has your mom been feeding this kid? I swear, she’s grown like six inches since the last time I saw her.”
“Nuclear Wheaties,” Nate shrugs. “What’s up, man? You remember Tali? This is her brother, Art.”
Cody thrusts a hand forward in greeting, but Art eyes it suspiciously. “How could I forget Tali?” He winks over at me, a genuine grin teasing at his lips. “And Art. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Art reaches out tentatively, but he seems so relieved when it’s time to pull back, wiping his hand on the top of his shorts like he’s gotten cooties.
“What are you all up to?”
“We just took the kids swimming over at Gram’s.”
“And the obligatory ice cream must always follow,” he agrees. “You ought to bring them down to the river lot sometime. Let me take Dee out on the Jet Ski.”
“I like Jet Skis,” Delilah says dreamily, though I have a feeling she’d say she likes just about anything as she basks in the glory of her puppy love for her brother’s best friend. Snails. Broken glass. Kissing spiders… “Can we go right now?”
“No, not right now.” Nate waves her off and gestures for her to take her ice cream back from me just as a clump of milky sprinkles glop down over my fingers and decorate the sidewalk in front of me. “Maybe later this summer.”
“I’m headed down there right now if you and Tali want to drop by and hang out a bit. I had to stop and pick up a pint of that blueberry cheesecake soft serve for Gretchen. It’s just her and me tonight, but it’d be nice to have someone else to talk to who doesn’t think I actually want to keep up with the Kardashians. Fire, beer, good company.” Then after a second he scrubs his hand across his mouth and says, “Well, except for Gretchen, but you know how it is.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we can tonight. I don’t know what time my mom’s getting off work, and I promised Tali we’d watch a movie.”
I don’t remember him promising me any such thing, and I was pretty sure I saw his mom’s car in the driveway before we left to go swimming, but I don’t say anything to correct him, and Delilah’s too busy trying to catch all the sprinkles shifting down her ice cream like an avalanche before they plop down on her toes.
“All right, I get it, but I expect to see you two Fourth of July weekend.” And then he turns his eyes to me, nudging his head upward as he says, “You’ll make him come, right?”
“I’ll do my best,” I smile.
“Awesome.” And then he reaches a hand out to ruffle Delilah’s hair. “And you, stop growing. Make your brother bring you to the river this summer.”
“Oh, I will,” she assures him.
“Catch you all later.” He winks at Delilah, tips his head toward me, then Nate and Art, and heads to the window to order ice cream for his girlfriend.
When Delilah and Art walk over to get more napkins, I lean back and push the last bite of chocolate ice cream-covered cone between my lips. Nate doesn’t finish his. It just sort of sits there in his hand, making the cone soggy as it drips in to soak the napkin he’s got wrapped around it. When I finish chewing, I ask, “So, we’re watching a movie then?”
“Sorry.” He turns to look at me, eyes flitting across my face as if he’s searching for disappointment or judgment.
“Is there a problem between you and Cody?”
Mainly something that has to do with Gretchen?
Though I keep that last part to myself because is it any of my business at this point? We’ve been on three dates, and whatever happened in his life before he met me shouldn’t matter. Not yet, anyway.
“I just… I can’t hang out with Cody like I used to, especially when he’s with Gretchen, which is more or less all the time, and no matter what I say he doesn’t really get it.”
“I see…”
“Cody… He’s a good guy, mostly. The best friend I’ve ever had, but I don’t know, something happens to me when I’m around him too much. I turn into someone I don’t like very much.” Breath vibrates his lips as he exhales frustration. “That’s a total cop out, I guess, but I don’t like the person I become when I’m with Cody. Cody’s friend Nate is not a nice guy, never someone I’d want you to meet.”
I just nod, turning my attention toward the kids. Art is holding out his sticky hands, threatening to wipe them on Delilah, and she’s screeching every time she hops backwards. I should probably tell him to knock it off, but there’s something on Dee’s face that suggests whatever game they’re playing, she sort of likes it. Kids are weird.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have used you like that.”
“You didn’t use me, Nate.” Though, I guess in a way he sort of did. “But I’m totally gonna hold you to that movie now.”
He seems relieved, and when he leans inward to kiss me, he says, “Whatever you want to watch. I don’t care what it is.”
“You know there’s an animated Mass Effect movie on Hulu?”
Quirking his brow when he leans back to look at me, he’s grinning. “I had no idea.”
“We should totally watch that.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “We totally should.”
“It’s really good. It pretty much explains…”
So while I explain the plot without giving too much of the story away, he just grins at me, not saying a word until I finish. Then he says, “Where did you come from, and who taught you the language of my heart?”
I laugh, even though I think he’s serious, and then he kisses my cheek just as Art and Delilah return with handfuls of napkins and sticky faces. They keep shoving each other while standing in front of us, laughing at some game they’ve cooked up that I can’t even begin to understand. Like you/hate you, maybe. I don’t know, but it’s kind of cute, and I wonder just how much my little brother likes Nate’s sister. He’s almost twelve. Isn’t that right around the time boys start to see girls differently?
After walking Art home, we head back to the Thorne’s, and for the first time I meet Leigh Thorne, Nate’s mom. She looks older than my parents, and I wonder how much of that is because she’s a single mom working double shifts to make sure her son and daughter have stability. She seems nice, but excuses herself soon after to head to bed, then Delilah piles up a bunch of blankets on the floor in front of the television before we start the movie. She’s asleep not long after, and Nate and I are alone, well, as alone as two people can get cuddled up on the couch while an eleven-year-old sleeps on the floor eight feet away.
Nate strokes his fingers absently through my hair, his vibrant blue eyes never leaving the screen. I watch him watch a movie I’ve already seen half a hundred times and can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he is. The serious set of his jaw, the relaxation of his mouth, a loose strip of black hair clinging to his cheek.
Who is this guy he becomes when he’s with Cody? The one he doesn’t like very much? And why does Gretchen hate him? I should want to know, but I don’t.
Three dates and I like him more than anyone I’ve ever liked before. It is sort of terrifying if I think about it too hard. Rationality starts seeping into my thoughts. We’ve known each other less than a week and already we’ve integrated so fluidly into each other’s lives. It’s not supposed to be this easy, but he feels comfortable, like he said last night while staring across the table into my eyes—it’s as though we’ve known each other for a thousand years.
I touch my finger to his lips, trace it across the pink bow as he puckers out to kiss the tip of my nail. “You’re not even watching the movie.”
“I’d rather watch you,” I tell him.
It’s a dangerous thing to say, one that’ll bring his eyes away from the screen to study my face. I’ll be forced to look into their sad depths and feel things I shouldn’t be feeling, but I can’t help it. I want to feel them.
“Sometimes when I look at you,” I whisper, “you look so beautiful and sad, and I just want to put you in my pocket.”
“You can put me in your pocket.” He turns his head into mine, nudging my face back toward the screen as he touches his lips to my ear. Tongue darting out, he teases along the lobe, the warm sensation making my body tingle as chills spread through me. “I bet it’s safe there.”
“I would always keep you safe.”
“I believe you.”
He looks back at the television screen, and I go on watching him until his eyes start to grow heavy, the lids drifting every so often, thick black lashes spilling over his cheeks. They spring open when he catches himself. His pupils widen and shrink, focusing on the movie again before he starts to fall asleep once more, and for a long time after he closes them for the last time I just lay there in his arms thinking about how easy it would be to stay this way forever with a guy I barely know.
class=Section19>
SIXTEEN
No matter what anyone says, falling in love doesn’t happen slowly. It’s a viper strike, the poison of its beauty spreading through your blood until you wake up one day and everything makes sense. That person becomes your breath, your life, every beat of your heart. Sure, I’ve heard stories about people who were friends for ages, never realizing until it was almost too late how they really felt about each other, but I can’t imagine ever doubting the way I already feel about Nate.
Almost three weeks pass before I take a step back and try to remember what life was like pre-Nate, and the funny thing is, I can’t. I spent eighteen years on this planet, experienced hundreds of thousands of moments before I ever even knew him, but none of them stand out the way every second I’m with him does.
Nate laughing is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Nate smiling is the highlight of my every day. Snuggling my body into his on the porch swing while he plays sad songs on his guitar that speak to my heart is a level of heaven I don’t think has ever been explored before. When we talk every word he says to me is perfect and wonderful, and even though I sometimes feel like I know everything I will ever need to know about him, he surprises me with every conversation.
He was a star student in high school, graduating near the top of his class. He nearly aced his SATs, which is saying something because pretty much everyone I know felt grateful to come out of that stressful nightmare with an
average between 1600 or 1700. My own score was just around 1850, and I was pretty proud of it until Nate muttered his into my ear and made me feel just a little inadequate. He was athletic, the evidence visible every time he takes off his shirt and I get to watch his ab muscles flex with the stretch and movement. He still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, and sometimes it scares him—even more so, he whispers, after meeting me and discovering I already have the course of my life carefully mapped out.
Every night the last words I text are to him, and when I wake up each morning there are already messages waiting for me—especially if he has to go to work. Neither of us has had a decent night’s sleep since the night before our first date, but I’m pretty sure that’s the reason they invented coffee: To sustain people who think they’re falling in love and grow terrified at the mere thought of closing their eyes for a single second because what if you wake up and it’s over?
It seems like the only time we do close our eyes these days is when we’re together, curled up on the couch after he gets off work, Art and Delilah playing Mario Kart on the Wii while Gwen tries to push little crackers shaped like fish into our mouths, and Mom and Dad are tearing down walls somewhere.
Right now we’re laying on the back deck at Nate’s gram’s house while my brother and his sister threaten each other with bodily harm in the pool six feet away. I don’t know how long we’ve been out here. The sun is baking my skin, its heat pulling me ever closer to that comfortable state between sleep and dream. I’m right there on the edge of drifting off, my brother’s voice growing more distant by the moment when sharp, cold slices of water leap out of the pool and splash down on us.
I shoot up, shrieking, and Nate roars as he scrambles to his feet to glare at the duo in the pool grinning up at us without even the barest attempt to deny their actions.
“I will destroy both of you!”
“You’ll have to get in the pool in order to do that,” Delilah points out.
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