CHAPTER EIGHT
Six years ago
“BLYTHE, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” HER mother asked, stepping out from the kitchen as Blythe gathered up her keys.
“To Nate’s,” she answered, shrugging. It was where she’d gone nearly every night for the last two weeks. Where else would she be headed?
Alexandra Barnes frowned behind her glasses.
“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with that boy, Blythe. Are you sure that’s wise?”
Blythe folded her arms and shot her mom a look.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”
Her mother blinked rapidly and regarded Blythe with surprise.
“Well, you’re leaving for Tulane in two weeks. You don’t want anything serious right now,” her mother declared. “It’ll make it that much harder when you have to break it off as soon as school starts.”
The words stunned her, but Blythe tried to keep her expression blank. Break it off? She couldn’t even imagine it. But Alexandra Barnes didn’t need to know that. No one did.
Except Nate.
“Mom, it’s not serious,” she lied. “We just like spending time together.”
This time, her mother’s left brow arched above the frame of her glasses.
“Fiddle,” she said, which was Alexandra Barnes’s way of calling bullshit. “I’ve seen the two of you kissing goodnight on that front step, and I’ve seen you floating around this house with your head in a dream.”
Blythe felt her cheeks burn. She’d never found her mom to be observant or intuitive when she needed her to be — especially when Seth tried to torment her by shoving burgers in her face or clucking softly at the dinner table while eating fried chicken. Why was she suddenly clued in and meddling where she wasn’t wanted?
“Mom. I’m eighteen. I can handle it.”
Amusement lit her mother’s face, and she actually laughed.
“Oh, Blythe. One day you’ll know how silly you sound, dear,” she said, shaking her head. “Just don’t think that this is going to last. These summer flings never do, darling. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”
Blythe did her best to freeze her face and hide how much the words alone hurt her.
It won’t happen, she reassured herself. He wouldn’t do that to me, just like I wouldn’t do it to him.
She returned to the memory she’d savored for two days and nights. She and Nate had parked in the alley behind Lafayette Middle School before he’d driven her home that night.
Stretched out above her, his hands had found their way under her top again, and when she had moaned her pleasure, Nate said the words that she’d wrestled to keep closed in her mouth for what seemed like forever.
“I love you — I love you, Blythe.”
His breath had caught on the words, and the look in his eyes as he peered down at her was so anguished, as if he feared she might not say them back. How in the world could he not know?
She had reached up and stroked his face.
“Nate, I love you… I’ve wanted to say it for so long.”
She would never forget the way he’d smiled.
Blythe turned away from her mother so the woman who’d raised her could not read the emotion on her face.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not going to get hurt.”
She didn’t have to explain that they’d already worked it out. They would stay together and see each other as often as they could. They’d live on their respective campuses freshman year, but next summer, they’d find an apartment in LaPlace, a town almost exactly halfway between LSU and Tulane. The 45-minute commute for each of them would be bearable for another three years.
Nate was so worth it.
The plan gave her peace of mind, and it seemed to her that it reassured Nate, too. And the thought of living with him gave her chills all over. To say goodnight to him in bed instead of on a doorstep…
What does his voice sound like when he first wakes up? She wondered, smiling.
She might have to wait a while to get to experience that firsthand, but there was one thing she wouldn’t wait for any longer.
“I’ll be home late,” she called over her shoulder and dashed out the door.
****
THE DRIVE TO NATE’S house was only a couple of minutes, but that’s all it took for her hands to start shaking. When he’d called that morning to invite her, he told her that his parents would be gone the rest of the day.
They would have the whole house to themselves.
Blythe didn’t have any doubts about what she wanted, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a nervous wreck. When he’d told her he wasn’t a virgin, the truth had stung. The thought of someone else wrapped around him — of Nate so intimately connected to another person — tore at her heart.
But now… Now she had to admit to herself that there was some measure of relief in the knowledge that at least one of them knew what they were doing.
She pulled onto the curb in front of his house and killed the engine. She tried to take a few slow, deep breaths, but it felt like her ribs wouldn’t open enough to let in the air.
What if I’m no good at it?
She winced at the thought. Could someone be really bad at it? She’d once heard two guys whispering in the library at school about a girl who was “a lousy lay.” What did that mean? Rae had said those guys were full of shit, swearing that if sex was bad, the guy was to blame.
She really didn’t know what that meant, either.
Blythe couldn’t imagine Nate being anything but phenomenal at it — judging from the way he kissed and touched her. She could only hope he would tell her if something wasn’t right, wasn’t enough.
But wouldn’t that be utterly mortifying?
She was frowning — still in the driver’s seat of her car — when Nate stepped out onto his front porch. He stood there, so relaxed, in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, the knowing smile he wore full of amusement and compassion.
There were times when they were together when Nate seemed so put-together — so mature and confident — that Blythe felt about ten years too young. And even as this drew her to him and made her feel safe, it also left her unmoored, as though he had depths she’d never understand.
But there were also times when she knew the tables had turned by the look of worry in his eyes. He wasn’t sure of everything. When his brows would draw together and he would watch her closely — like he had the day she met his mom and later, when he talked about losing his virginity — she could see he half-expected her to pull away.
There was no look of worry now. Without the air on, the Tercel had started to bake in just the few minutes she’d sat immobile. And as Nate studied her from his position on the porch, Blythe began to sweat.
She wanted to get out and go to him, but she couldn’t make herself move. Nate seemed to recognize her affliction, and he made his way across the yard to her.
Her heartbeat ratcheted up when he pulled the driver’s side door open, but he didn’t say a word. Not at first. He just watched her, patiently.
Blythe couldn’t look at him. Not in the eyes. She could bring her gaze up to his elbows or even the neckline of his T-shirt, but that was it. Surely, he was coming to the conclusion that this was a bad idea.
Nate rested his hip against the open door and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Would you like some iced tea?” he asked, easily.
The surprise of his question broke the spell, and she gawked at him.
“Wh-what?”
His eyes smiled at her, but she could see him fighting to keep from looking too amused.
“Iced tea? It’s really hot out here,” he said.
Blythe blinked.
“Yeah… okay.” Tea was all right. Tea she couldn’t screw up.
Nate reached down and offered his hand.
“Come on inside then,” he whispered, as though he knew she’d spook at any moment.
“I’m not afraid of you, you know,” she blurte
d, still not budging from the driver’s seat.
The smile he’d held back broke free, the left side of his mouth curling with it.
“I know that,” he said gently, but he took her hand in his. “You’re afraid of you.”
Blythe’s jaw dropped.
“H-how do you know?” This second surprise had Blythe on her feet and out of the car. Intrigue, it seemed, was more powerful than doubt.
Nate shrugged, closed the car door, and led her toward the porch.
“It’s what I’m afraid of… me… doing something wrong to chase you away.” He said, still smiling, but his eyes narrowed with this admission, and Blythe could see he told the truth. He might be more experienced, but that didn’t mean he had nothing to lose.
She let go a sigh. She’d been holding her breath without even realizing.
“I don’t think there’s anything you could do to chase me away,” she offered, following him inside, her core muscles still like a loaded spring, but at least she’d made it out of the car.
As they passed the stairs on the way to the kitchen, Blythe chewed her lip. When would they go up there? Would it happen right away? How much would it hurt?
“Where are your parents?” she asked, unable to stop the rush of fears that crowded into her head.
“In St. Francesville, visiting Nana Grace — Richland’s mother,” Nate said, taking down two glasses from the cabinet. “They’ll be back tonight.”
Tonight. By then, everything would be different. Would this change them? Her palms felt like dishrags, and she tried to dry them on her shorts.
“Blythe…?” Nate was staring at her. He stood at the open fridge door, and Blythe realized she had missed something.
“Huh? What?”
“I asked if you wanted sweet or unsweet.” His voice was even, but as he studied her, the look of confident ease faded to one of concern.
“Oh… sweet, I guess… or unsweet,” she stammered. “It doesn’t matter.”
Nate shut the fridge door and crossed to her in two strides.
“Stop it,” he said, taking both her hands.
“Stop what?” she said, understanding him all too well but feeling damned ridiculous.
“Stop pretending that you’re okay when you’re not,” he said gently. He squeezed her hands and drew a long, slow breath as though he could breathe for her. “We don’t have to do this today, Blythe.”
“Yes, we do!”
The startled look he gave her must have matched her own.
Where did that come from?
“We do?” he asked, clearly teasing her. “I’m pretty sure it’s optional, Blythe, but if there’s some rule I don’t know about—”
Her index finger jabbed his ribs.
“Don’t joke,” she said, masking her embarrassment with irritation. It wasn’t his fault she was such a mess, but Blythe didn’t know what else to do. How could she screw this up any worse?
“Hey, hey,” Nate whispered, dropping his humor and pulling her against him. “I’m sorry. I just want you to relax. You look miserable, and that’s the last thing I want.”
His brown eyes, the color of warmth, searched hers, and Blythe finally remembered what it was like to be with him. She had thought and obsessed and stressed so much about what they would do, she had forgotten what it meant to be with Nate. Thinking had wound her tight with worry, but being with Nate always settled her like nothing else.
She breathed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, holding his gaze, circling her arms around him and squeezing back. “I’m too much in my head.”
“You seemed far away. I didn’t like it,” he told her. Nate swallowed and appeared to weigh his words. “I want you with me when you’re with me. There will be enough distance once school starts.”
It always came back to this. Time was running out for them. It was why she felt like they had to make the most of this one day alone.
“You’re right,” she conceded. “It doesn’t have to happen today, but, Nate, I want it to. When we go away to school, I don’t just want to be your girlfriend. I want to be your…”
Blythe lost her nerve. She couldn’t say the word out loud.
A wicked smile crept over Nate’s mouth.
“My pen pal?”
“Nate!” She giggled in spite of herself, and Nate trapped her arms with his so that she couldn’t swat him. His lips found her neck, and he teased her between kisses.
“My Facebook friend?” he breathed, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, even as she laughed and wanted to kick him all at once.
“Mmm… I love you,” Nate whispered, his breath tickling against her skin. “Would you be my lover?”
The word on his lips made her knees weak. How come he could say it and she couldn’t? And when he did, it sounded perfect. Not cheesy. Not strange. But intimate. A secret just for them.
“I love you,” she whispered back, drowning in his heat. She stretched up and pressed her lips to his neck, tasting a hint of salt and the crisp bite of grass. Even after a shower, Nate smelled like fresh air and green grass, as though he were made of it.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, smiling against her skin.
“Always.” Blythe pulled him to her and kissed him soundly. He drew her up so tight against him, meeting her, matching her. She couldn’t fathom how he could understand her so well. How he could see into her fears and anxieties and know how to still them. How he could make her laugh, and play with her, and reassure her at the same time. Blythe had never loved anyone or anything so much in her life.
“Forget the tea,” she said against his lips.
Nate pulled back and searched her face.
“You sure?”
“Let’s go upstairs,” she answered.
So, he led her up. Her face flushed as she climbed the stairs one step behind him. Blythe’s every nerve buzzed, but Nate’s hand around hers helped to keep her grounded.
When they stepped up into his loft, Nate walked them to the edge of his bed.
“We… you… we don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Nate stammered, giving her a concerned frown and running his hands gently up and down her back.
“I know that,” she said, stretching up and pressing her lips to his. “I do want.”
And she did. Nate had been so careful not to cross any boundaries, not to take her to any point where she’d say no, that after weeks of kissing and clinging to him, she thought she might die if they waited any longer.
Knowing that he needed her to prove that she was ready, Blythe reached between them, grabbed the hem of her t-shirt, and pulled it over her head.
Silent, Nate watched with rapt attention. This was the part that made her most nervous. Yes, she was scared of it hurting, but she was more on edge about having Nate see her naked in the full light of day.
With shaking fingers, she opened the front clasp on her bra and let it fall to the floor.
“Oh, Blythe,” Nate breathed, his eyes hooded. He palmed her breasts, and Blythe gasped as her nipples peaked under his touch.
“Now you…” she whispered.
In the next moment, she forgot her own nakedness as Nate flung off his t-shirt and shucked out of his pants, leaving him standing before her completely bare.
And very, very male.
“Oh, wow…” she muttered.
She would have kept staring, but Nate took her by the hand and pulled them onto his bed. There, her shorts and panties seemed out of place because, at once, she wanted nothing between them. Blythe abandoned her shyness, and the rest of her clothes landed on the floor next to Nate’s.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, drawing her into his arms as they stretched on their sides. She felt each point of touch as her body met his. Chest to chest. Belly to belly. Thigh to thigh.
Nate traced his fingers down her face, along her neck and shoulder. Their eyes locked, and she felt caught in his gaze. The look of desire in his eyes was so intense she couldn’t l
ook away. Her heart raced.
He moved over her skin with deliberate slowness, his fingers trailing over her breasts and lingering there. Blythe was sure he could feel every pound of her heart.
“So beautiful,” he whispered again, taking her lips with his and letting his tongue trace its way into her mouth.
She loved his tongue. Every time it met hers, it told her how much he desired her. His tongue was fierce and reverent. Gentle and honest. An agent of love.
As they kissed, Nate rolled her onto her back, and she let her hands run down the sides of his torso, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his skin.
Nate moaned at the touch, and the sound made her quiver. She had longed for him for weeks, but now, with his body above hers, her own desire consumed her.
Blythe spread her legs, and Nate lay between them, the heat of him pressing right against her.
“I want you,” she murmured against his lips.
To her surprise, Nate shook his head.
“Not yet…” He traced a finger over her hip and down between them. “I don’t want it to hurt. The more ready you are, the less it will hurt.”
“I am read—” Her words caught on a gasp as his fingers found the center of her desire. No one had ever touched her there. She had barely touched herself, and now Nate seemed to be able to unravel her being with just the gentlest of strokes.
If he was going to make her lose her mind, she might as well try to do the same to him if she could. Blythe reached for him and clasped her hand around his length, and his sharp inhale was her reward.
“Oh, Blythe…”
Her mouth split with a proud smile, but she arched her back as one of his fingers found its way inside of her.
“I swear, I’m ready,” she panted.
Above her, Nate just nodded and seemed to grit his teeth. He leaned over and reached for his bedside table drawer, pulling it open and retrieving a condom. The sight of it set her heart racing again.
We really are going to do this.
Nate’s eyes met hers; the rich brown of his irises spoke only gentleness.
“You sure, Blythe?”
She took the condom from him and tore the wrapper.
“I’m sure,” she promised.
He took it from her, and Blythe watched as he rolled it down over that startling part of his anatomy. Watching was surprisingly intimate and humbling. It reaffirmed for her the certainty she would never, never want to do anything to hurt him.
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