by Ginger Scott
“That mother…”
“Hey, watch what you’re about to call the guy standing at your door,” Nate says, and my heart kicks.
“That motherly, wonderful, down-the-hall neighbor of mine. What’s wrong with saying that?” I smile, flipping my top drawer over and sliding it in. I get to my knees to start picking up my delicates first, mostly because I don’t want them out for display. Nate, though, is quickly by my side, helping me.
“Oh! Hey, don’t touch those,” I say, grabbing the silky black pair of underwear from his hands. They’re the only girly pair of panties I own, and I bought them with a Victoria Secret gift card my aunt sent me. She wanted me to buy nice bras, but I hate the foo-foo ones they have at that store, and I can’t stand the idea of spending forty bucks on a bra. So I bought underwear—six boy shorts and one fancy panty. I was saving those, but lord knows for what.
Nate just sits back on my bed and watches me piece back together my dresser. “Real funny there, Preeter. But you better watch your back,” I say, my mind already spinning in a million directions with what I can do to get back at him. I’m reveling in the ideas when he brings everything to a screeching halt.
“Oh, I also wanted to give you these. They, uhhh,” he swallows hard handing me a stack of pictures that I recognize instantly. “They fell out of one of the drawers. I didn’t want them to get lost.”
I don’t turn them over to look at them, and instead just shuffle them into a neat pile and tuck them back under my jeans. I don’t like looking at the girl in those photos. It’s hard to see Josh, but it’s even harder to see me—who I used to be. “Rowe? Can I ask you something?” Nate says, and my pulse begins that racing thing again, and my breath gets shorter and shorter.
“Depends,” I say, not looking him in the eye and just pushing on each drawer until they are all lined up and shut neatly again. I sit on Cass’s bed when I’m finished, and keep my eyes at his feet and then his hands. He’s nervous and fidgety, and I know what he wants to ask, but I don’t know how to answer it.
“That guy? The one in the pictures? You said he was your boyfriend. Is he…still your boyfriend?”
Speechless. This is the same question I’ve asked the universe a million times. I asked Ross just an hour ago. I asked my mother before I left to come here. And I asked Josh’s parents, too. But nobody gives me a goddamned answer when I ask. So I’m not giving one to Nate.
“I have to go,” I say, grabbing my heavy bag of books and racing through my door to the stairs so I don’t have to wait for the elevator. I stop at the top of the first floor and I sit down on the steps, tucking my head between my knees and reminding myself to breathe. Breathe deeply, Rowe.
I don’t know how long I hide there, but when I come back upstairs, my door is open and Cass is home.
“Damn it, Rowe! I didn’t want to be a part of this war, but looks like I’m in it now!” she’s kicking around the pile of clothes at her feet and flipping over her own drawers. “Tell me what you need me to do. I’m all in. You don’t mess with an Owens sister!”
“Who’s messing with you?” Paige says, kicking her shoes off under her bed and hooking her backpack over her desk chair.
“Ty! And Nate! They flipped our dresser drawers,” Cass says with a huff, stuffing her clothes back into her drawers without folding. Paige rushes to her dresser next, biting her lip and waiting for her clothes to spill out. When her drawers are fine, I see the disappointment flood her body, and I feel sad for her.
“Okay, tell me what you girls need me to do. Let’s get those assholes back,” Paige says. I don’t know if she’s just mad that they left her out of the practical joke war or if she’s just trying to put on a brave face, but for the first time since I’ve met her, I feel a connection with her, so I hold onto it.
“Okay, I have an idea. We’re gonna need a hardware store,” I start, and they both pull up their chairs to listen.
Chapter 10
Nate
Staying away from her room was harder than I thought it would be. I never brought up going to the art gallery, and I avoided accidental run-ins when I could. I didn’t have workouts during the first week of school, but I found myself in the gym anyhow. Coaches liked seeing me there, but I wasn’t there for them. I didn’t need to make an impression—I was their guy, and I knew it. With me on the roster, McConnell was in the mix. Without me, they were a decent team but not good enough to make the series.
Whatever, though—me being here on a non-workout day made me look like a team leader, and I did want to fill that role for the other guys. Even if the only reason I was here was to keep myself busy and away from Rowe.
Ty was with Cass every night. She came over to watch Sports Center with us after dinner, and she’d drop these totally obvious stories about Rowe, taking extra care to say her name nice and clear for me to hear.
It’s not like I was angry with her. Damn, I’d have to understand her for that to be a part of the equation. I guess I was angrier with myself for being so intimidated by her, and those pictures. She couldn’t even look at them, and the way she ran out of her room when I asked her about them made me start to think that she might just have some emotional baggage I’m not equipped for.
“Hey, you about ready to head back?” Ty says, popping his head in while I finish up my last set. Ty does personal training at the campus—he was hired on to work with some of the disabled students initially, but he’s so disciplined that others started requesting him, too. My brother took his rehab seriously when he got out of the hospital, and the dude is probably in better shape than I am.
“One more set. I’ll meet you out front,” I say.
He just nods and leaves me to finish my workout, alone with my thoughts. I could lift a thousand pounds and it still wouldn’t be enough to distract me from thinking about Rowe.
She takes her showers late at night. I heard her in there yesterday while I was taking mine, and I thought about running into her again. But she’d see right through that. Instead, I sat on the locker bench quietly, listening to her sing lightly under her breath. She was putting on an act when she was singing with Cass in her room the other day because I can tell she has the voice of an angel. I bet if she really let herself go, she would surprise the hell out of a lot of people with her voice—she’d probably surprise herself a little, too.
It’s late by the time Ty and I get back to the dorm, and I can hear both of our stomachs rumbling. “Dinner?” I say, turning my key in our lock.
“Yeah. Let me just text Cass. She wanted to come. You mind?”
“Nah,” I say. Honestly, I don’t mind. I like Cass’s company, and I like having the small connection to Rowe. I still want to invite her out with my parents next weekend, but I just feel strange talking to her after the whole picture incident. I think I just need to know what the guy in that picture is to her first.
“What. The. Fuck!” Ty sees it first. It takes me a few minutes to make sure my eyes aren’t tricking me. Our entire bedroom, every square inch of the walls, is pink. The back of the door—pink. The ceiling—pink. And it’s not a subtle pastel. No, our dorm room is Barbie-princess pink!
I have to hand it to her. Rowe is good. I mean, like, really good. This took effort and time, and I know she had help—Ty’s fault for flipping Cass’s dresser. Ty is fuming, but I just start laughing, tossing my gym bag on my bed.
“Dude, this isn’t funny! I fucking hate pink!” My brother is more worked up over his room color than he was about losing a grand in a Super-Bowl bet last year.
“Rowe.” I say, sitting down on my bed and taking everything in. This must have taken three gallons to get it covered so well, and they must have worked on this all day. The paint smell was still fresh. I have to admit, I am pretty damned impressed.
“Dude, I know you like that girl or whatever, but this shit is unacceptable,” Ty says, flinging open our door and heading down the hall to their room. I catch up with him, my smile growing bigger with every step.
>
The door is shut, and Ty has his hand up ready to pound, but I grab it to stop him. I hold up a finger and tell him to stay quiet, then I go to the room two doors down and ask the quiet girl who lives there to do us a favor. I bring her back to the door, and she knocks while Ty and I hide to one side, out of the view of the peephole.
“It’s Molly. I’m out of printer ink, and I need to get this paper done. Can I borrow yours? It will only take a few seconds,” Molly says, selling it so well that I think I may have underestimated her too.
“Thank you soooo much,” I whisper back to her. It’s scary how willing she was to help Ty and me out, but the Preeter brothers have always been good at getting girls to do things. Every girl but one, it seems.
“Hang on.” It’s Cass I hear, so I ready myself low to sneak past her into the room so I can get to Rowe. I can tell she’s looking through the hole, and Molly just stands there, smiling. The door is barely open, and I push it the rest of the way. Cass starts laughing hysterically and screaming just a little.
“Rowe, run!” she says, and I see Rowe’s long legs fly up from her bed and leap over Cass’s in an effort to lock herself in the closet. Paige is standing on her bed, too, laughing and pointing at Rowe.
“This was all her idea!” Paige screams.
“Oh, I know exactly whose idea this is,” I say, my fingers reaching just enough of her shirt to tug her to a stop and grip at her waist. She’s strong, and she’s wiggling and laughing, and still trying to get away from me. But she’s no match. I finally get my arms completely around her body, and I lift her over my shoulder, locking her squirming arms and legs in before I take off in a run.
“No! Nate, don’t you dare. What are you doing? Where are you taking me!” She’s kicking like hell, but she’s still laughing, so I keep going, all the way to the stairs.
“You tell me, Rowe. Elevator or stairs?”
“Huh?” she asks, her voice muffled from the blood rushing to her head.
“I’m not letting go of you, but I’m taking you outside. You’re lucky I’m giving you a choice—elevator or stairs? Me? I’d pick elevator. Because I’m not so sure I can balance down three flights with your long-ass legs kicking at me.”
“Elevator,” she says, her body going limp.
“Good choice,” I say, marching her over to the button and waiting for the elevator to open. There are a few people inside, and they all move out of the way when I get in with her.
“Chick painted my room pink. Payback. You know, they’re a bitch?” I say, hitting the button to close the door.
“What do you mean payback?” Rowe asks, her head behind me and still upside down.
“Oh, you’re going to find out sweetheart. Just you wait,” I say, not really sure where I’m taking her, but just out-of-my-mind excited to have her in my arms, even if it is a bit like kidnapping.
“Nate? No…you’re making me nervous,” she says, but she’s still giggling, so I push on. The elevator opens, and I walk quickly to the main door. As soon as I get it open, I take off in a sprint, and her arms and legs start kicking and slapping at me again.
“You’re going to make me drop you!” She’s lifting up the back of my shirt, and I swear I feel something wet. “Did you…did you just lick me?”
And oh my god the mischievous laugh she lets out when I ask her that. I know she thinks she’s being a badass and sneaky, but fuck me! That laugh? Her tongue on my skin? She’s being sexy as hell, and she doesn’t even have a clue. I slow to a walk, but I keep carrying her. The ball fields are only a few hundred yards away, which gives me an idea.
“Rowe, I feel I have to tell you this. We’re close enough that I think you deserve honesty. Putting your tongue on me is in no way, whatsoever torture. It’s pretty much the shit I’ve been dreaming about since the night I ran into you in the hallway. So unless you’re prepared to follow through with what your tongue suggests in my mind, I’d encourage you to keep it in your pretty little mouth.”
I feel her body stiffen a little when I finish, and she’s no longer laughing. But I also don’t think she’s mad. Her muscles finally relax when I cut through the back gate at the ball field. I can hear it, but I don’t think she can because she’s upside down. I probably only have a few more minutes to catch it, so I tell her to hang on and I jog with her over my shoulder into centerfield.
When I hear it stop for a second, I pull her back over my shoulder and let her feet touch the ground. Immediately, she tries to run, so I pull her into my chest, her face away from me, and I lock her arms in tightly.
“Uh uh. Time to face the music,” I say, and on the perfect cue the outfield sprinklers kick on, soaking her body, hair, and shorts with every pass. I’m soaking wet too, but I don’t care. I would walk through fire to hold her in front of me like this. And then, a remarkable thing happens.
I let my arms loosen their grip, and Rowe slips away from me, but she doesn’t run. She just stretches her arms out to her sides and looks up, her hair dripping wet, and her face glistening from the water beading up on her skin. She starts spinning slowly in a circle, laughing. And then it’s there—the smile. The same look she had on her face in that picture. It’s joy. And I just gave it to her.
My god, do I want to give it to her again.
Rowe
The water is so cold that I start to shiver, but I don’t care. I keep spinning and laughing. Maybe I’m having a nervous breakdown. Whatever this is, I don’t care—I feel free and honestly happy. A real moment of happiness, uninterrupted, and Nate just stands there watching me and waiting.
His smile is spectacular. He’s like those faces I see in my magazines, when I flip through ads of people in love. The way the man looks at a woman in the perfume ads—that’s his face, right now, for me. I don’t want it to go away, but I know it has to, and the second I start to let my reality creep in, my happiness fades.
I stop spinning, but I force my smile to stay in place, because I don’t want to go back to those other feelings just yet.
“You’re beautiful; you know that?” My breath is gone with his words. Nate can’t think I’m beautiful. I’m not—I’m scarred and ugly.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” I ask, my posture dipping, and my hands coming back to that familiar place around my waist, squeezing tightly.
“Don’t refuse to listen to me,” he says, stepping closer. I step back, but with every two I take, he takes three, until he’s touching me, his hands gripping my elbows. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I say, not wanting this moment to end. I’m so terrified of it—so unbelievably afraid of this conversation continuing. But I haven’t wanted anything in so long. And right now, all I want is this—this time right now, alone with Nate.
His hands slide up my arms to my neck, and soon his hands are cradling my face. My teeth are chattering, but I’m begging them to behave. I can feel Nate’s breath he’s so close to me, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. Instead, he steps back and pulls his long-sleeved shirt over his body and slips it around my head, holding it out for me to tuck my arms inside.
“Thank you,” I say, my lips still quivering, partly from the cold and partly from my desire to be kissed.
“Well, it is sort of my fault. I ran you through the sprinklers,” he says, reaching his arm around me and pulling me into his side. We walk through the field, our feet squishing in the grass.
“Are we supposed to be out here?” I ask, noticing the deep feet prints we’re leaving in our wake.
“Oh god no. I’m going to get my ass chewed, too. There are cameras all over the place. I bet security is on it’s way right now.”
I start to pick up my pace, my heart thumping with panic now. But then his laugh registers, and I stop. “Not nice,” I say.
“I know. I’m kidding. There are no cameras. We’re probably not supposed to be here, but no one will know.”
We climb over a small pony wall into the dug out, a
nd Nate reaches for my hand to help me down. His hands are somehow warm, despite everything on my body feeling so cold. I want to hold his hand, feel my fingers intertwine with his, but his touch leaves me as soon as my feet meet the ground. And I can’t ignore the sharp pain it causes in my heart.
The dugout bench is wide; I sit sideways on it, pulling my knees up to hug them closely to me. I tuck my legs into his shirt for a bit, trying to warm the rest of my body. Nate sits in front of me, crossing his legs and tugging at my shoelaces.
“I meant what I said, you know,” he says, looking up at me with one eyebrow raised. “That you’re beautiful?”
Sucking in my bottom lip to hide the smile on my face, I nod once and whisper “Thank you.”
“Oh Nate, and by the way, I find you incredibly handsome,” he says, putting on his best female voice to imitate me. I laugh and stare down into my lap, not knowing what to say next.
“You’re…not bad,” I say, shrugging for emphasis. “I mean, you’re kind of big and gangly. And I bet your knees crackle and pop from catching, so you’re probably going to suffer from massive arthritis. But, you’re all right.”
He pushes up my feet without warning, tipping me over on my back. “Damn, and here Ty and I thought Paige was the bitchy one,” he jokes.
“Nope. It was I all along. In fact, this isn’t even what I look like. If I ripped off this layer of skin, underneath I would smell like sparkly body spray, and my skin would glitter, and my hair would feel like wire from all of the product I put in it.”
“Wow! Now that’s what I was really hoping you looked like. Go on, baby, rip it off. Show me the real you,” he says, laughing and reaching for my hand to pull me back up to sitting. This time, though, he leaves his fingertips on mine, shifting his touch from one finger to the next, like he’s not sure if it’s a good idea to hold onto me too tightly.