Chapter 26
26
Hayden
present
I know I told myself this wouldn’t turn into something complicated, something risky. But fuck …with her body underneath mine, all supple and trusting, I couldn’t even bother to remember why I told myself that in the first place. Or why I shouldn’t tell her that what I wished for had everything to do with wanting to act on an impulse that I should be ignoring while making me question what the hell I’m doing torturing myself like this.
She’s starting to consume me, making me wonder things about her that I shouldn’t be giving a second thought about. I want to know what it feels like to hold Natalia, to drink in her scent and let my heart swell with the idea of us. I want to learn things about her besides her preference for odd-tasting snacks or that she has a talent to shape and transfigure her hair to look different every day .
I want to know what type of kiss makes her breathless, or how she would react to my fingertips roaming over her body. To study her curves and the planes of her soft skin that are hidden from the rest of the world. I want to know whether she would moan or squirm when I nibble on the sensitive spot behind her knee. Or how badly she would writhe the first time my tongue tastes her, her hands threading into my hair as she whispers my name.
“Um.” I clear my throat, settling back into the couch. “What movie did you decide on?”
She peers up at me shyly, her fingers grasping on to her remote a little tighter as her face ducks into the collar of her sweater.
“ Love Actually ,” she says sheepishly.
I roll my eyes, my body still hyperaware of how close we were a minute ago as I surrender to her choice.
“Fine,” I say, slowly realizing that I can’t really ever say no to her.
Hayden, make me more lemon tarts.
Hayden, watch boring chick flicks with me.
Hayden, walk over hot coals and shards of glass for me.
The answer would always be, When and where, babe?
She wiggles her shoulders, smiling wide and shifting into the deep cushions as she cocoons herself around everything soft and plush. Her hand reaches over the back of the couch for a fuzzy throw blanket, and she drapes it over herself as she clicks the movie to start.
I avert my eyes away from her, focusing on the TV screen as the beginning credits of Love Actually play, people embracing in a crowded airport with Hugh Grant’s calming voice filling the room.
“You know,” she announces from under her covers, “I don’t think it would hurt for you to expand your exposure to chick flicks.”
I lift a brow, peeking at her over the rough plane of her blanket. “And how would I do that? ”
“I don’t know,” she says in a muffled voice. “Maybe not be so repulsed by a light-hearted rom-com.”
“Right,” I answer, my voice monotone. “Because a guy pining for his best friend’s girl is the exact scenario I want to live.”
Her head lifts. “You’ve seen this?”
“Shh,” I answer, pretending to maintain my focus on the screen. “I can’t hear.” I vaguely point toward the screen as I smirk.
I hear her scoff. “What are you going to tell me next? That The Devil Wears Prada is the best movie of all time and your favorite part is the fashion montage?”
“How did you know?” I peer over at her, my hand draped over the couch in her direction.
She rolls her eyes, poking her sock-covered toe at my thigh. “You’ve been holding out on me, Marshall.”
She sinks deeper, her head resting on a small throw pillow as her eyes heavily blink through the flashes of light coming off the screen.
With my hand hovering over her, resting against the thick cushions, it itches. It burns with the need to run along the valley where her waist dips and roam under the covered area hidden beneath her clothes only to confirm how warm and soft her bare skin is. My body vibrates with restraint while my hand stays fixed to the cushions as I sit quietly in my seat. Her on one end and me on the other, attempting to create as much space as I can on the couch that feels like a cramped cocoon rather than a love seat.
When the credits roll, putting an end to the nostalgic holiday movie that I watched multiple times with my mom, I peer over at Natalia. She’s fallen into a deep sleep. I can hear the light rumble of a snore every time she exhales through her nose with her hand resting under her cheek. It’s not too late, but it’s late enough that I should call it a night.
“Nat,” I whisper, gently rubbing her shoulder.
She stirs, her hand moving to bring the cover up to her closer, causing her to hide underneath it.
I smile. How is she this freaking adorable even when she’s sleeping? “Nat,” I whisper again.
“Hmm,” she groans.
“I’m going to go,” I say, my voice low and soothing.
She finally lowers the blanket, her sleep-ridden face and mussed hair peeking from the frayed edges. Her hooded eyes peer at me through her lashes and hair that’s come across her face like a sheer curtain. And I can’t help it. I move my hand to brush the hair out of her face while staring down at her. Her eyes blink open multiple times before she slowly rises, my hand still lightly resting on the side of her head before I pull away.
“Sorry,” she says, her hands coming to her cheeks to squish them together, causing her lips to pucker together like a fish.
“For what?”
“For falling asleep.”
I shake my head, refusing her apology. “It’s fine,” I answer hoarsely.
Because it was more than just fine, it was ideal. I’m slowly learning that I need these moments where she has her guard completely down, letting me know that her trust in me won’t waver. It’s the only thing I can cling to when I’m unsure of so much between us.
She sits up, the blanket dropping as she brings her hands above her head, stretching while working through a full yawn. “What time is it?”
“About ten past eleven,” I answer. “It’s not that late.”
She nods, shifting in her seat as she focuses her gaze downward on her fuzzy socks and starts chewing on her lower lip.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, noticing her sudden hesitance.
“Yeah,” she answers somewhat unconvincingly.
“What is it?” I ask, gently coaxing the truth from her .
She sighs, followed by a small smile that isn’t really a smile at all, as it never reaches her eyes or her cheeks. “There was a reason I asked you to come over today.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she answers, looking up at me as her eyes downturn even further. “Today is Matteo’s and my anniversary.” She pauses, twisting her fingers and gnawing on her lower lip.
“Oh,” I repeat myself, this time pouring more understanding than curiosity into my voice while cringing at the mention of her ex. “Are you okay?”
She nods, her head bobbing up and down through a tight-lipped smile. “I thought I would be really, really bad, but I’m actually handling it better than I thought.”
I smile back, mirroring the up and down of her head as her smile warms.
“I guess…the reason I’m telling you is to say thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?” I ask, my brows bridging together, confused.
“I feel like the reason I’m okay today is partly because of you.” She reaches her hand toward me, grazing against my covered arm as she tilts her head to the side. “Not just today but a lot of the days. I think I’m okay because of you.”
I shake my head, brushing off her gratitude with something between a smirk and a scoff, enough for her to know she doesn’t need to thank me.
“Nat,” I say softly. “You know you can call me. Anytime, anywhere. I’ll always be there for you.”
She looks at me, the hesitancy that causes her to avoid my eyes now spreading through her hunched shoulders. While she doesn’t say anything, she nods. She nods in a way that shows any situation where I can be more than just a name on her contact list would be tentative. I wouldn’t be the one who would come to her rescue, the first person she thought of when she had to call someone. But I need to be. I need to be that person to her .
“I mean it, Nat,” I push.
She nods again, her head bobbing a bit more assertively, with a smile that peeks through her teeth pressed into her lower lip.
I clear my throat, standing from the couch as I smooth my hands down my sweatpants, making sure I have everything before I leave. I move silently, replacing the cushion that I distorted while leaning against it and smoothing out the extra throw blanket I used. Natalia stands as well, slowly following my steps as she walks me to the door.
“Are you glad we did this?” She lowers her head, looking down at her fingers twisting at the hem of her sweater again as I turn my back against the front door. “This whole ‘calling each other when we’re lonely.’ Are you glad we did it?”
When she looks back up at me, she has doubt written all over her face. Her small smile is the only appeasement from the apprehension she’s oozing.
“Why do you say it like that? Like I would say no?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I just want to make sure that you’re not doing this because you feel sorry for me.”
My brow furrows. “Nat, why would you think that?”
“Because of my breakup,” she explains, her shoulders dropping as the inner corners of her brows turn up. “I don’t want you to do this because I’m some heartbroken mess that you think you need to fix. Even if we have fun.”
I reach for her hands, placing my much larger one over her two that are overlapping each other. My thumb runs over her pinky as I attempt to console her. To make her realize that nothing about the time we spend together is out of pity. It’s actually the furthest thing from it.
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” I say softly. Maybe a little too softly that she doesn’t believe me. “I think you’re incredibly strong for not letting Matteo shatter your world. And I think that even though you believe you’re fragile and so close to giving up on love, you aren’t.”
“I’m not?” Her eyes twinkle as they look at me, so full of hope and expectancy.
My head shakes side to side, just enough for her to know that I disagree with this idea of herself. This perception that she’s broken, closed off from true love. Because that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“You shine, Nat,” I whisper. “You glow so brightly, and you don’t even realize it.”
Her presence lights every room, every dull place she walks into. Like the sun peeking through the clouds at sunset, when you can appreciate its beauty without it being overwhelming. That’s the thing with Natalia’s light; it’s subtle. You only see it when you learn to appreciate it hidden under her layers. In a way that she reserves that light for those that earn it. But when you do earn it, learning how to peel back those layers, it becomes the light that guides all of the warmth coursing through your body.
She leans in to hug me. A heavy, almost outspoken sigh exhales from deep within her chest. I reach my arms around her, unable to resist her embrace. I pull her to me, burying my face into her messy hair and loose clothing, not even ashamed at how much I love holding her in my arms.
“Can I tell you something?” she says into my shoulder.
“Always.”
“You’re my best friend,” she says. I can only see the top of her head, the knotted locks crisscrossing under my chin.
I chuckle, unable to stop the warmth spreading through my chest, causing me to laugh in a way that feels comforting. A light giggle rolls through her too, causing her shoulders to shake in my arms.
She pulls away from me, looking up through her round eyes that twinkle in the low light near her entryway and that smile that lights up the small space between us. “Thank you, Hayden,” she says.
“You’re welcome.”