16 | Boundaries
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Me and Riley just sit together for a while.
We put on an old movie, curling up under blankets like we did as kids, both trying to wash away our hangovers.
We speak for a while, she tells me her parents are out somewhere for the day, explains that she'll find out about that promotion after Christmas.
She falls asleep after a while, head on my shoulder. I must drift off at some point too because an hour later I open my eyes to a quiet room. Riley's muttered breaths are the only thing I can hear, that and the rhythmic ticking of an old clock.
Like a wave, all my needs rush forward at once. My stomach growls, my throat feels dry, my bladder is yelling at me. Fuck.
I push myself upwards, finding that my hair has fallen from its lazy bun and I'm much more set on going to the bathroom than fixing it. I leave Riley beside me on the couch, trailing my way through the hallway.
Before I can get very far I'm stopped by a noise.
They're clearly footsteps, heading up from the garage. The sound echoes towards me, so close that I don't have time to think about what they could be, whothey're coming from.
Unfortunately that answer greets me a second later.
Nolan.
He's paused in front of me, the bulb above him off so only the faint natural light from behind him trails over half his face.
The frame of his body takes up the entire space of the smaller doorway, taller and broader in that way I noticed the day he came back.
His hair is light with sweat, curls more visible and clouding his forehead.
But he says nothing at all. I even catch a clench of his jaw, like he's actively stopping himself from speaking. I should be happy about that but the silence gives me time to do something worse. Look at him. Not even in the way I'm used to, I mean really look at him.
Because he's shirtless.
My eyes drag down over his chest, the defined lines of his abs, the ridges over his stomach, the olive skin of his noticeable pecs.
A slick sheen of sweat gathers across him, glistens in the light splintered across the space.
His arms, laced with gentle muscles and trickled with faint veins flex gently.
They meet where his hands have stopped halfway through rubbing themselves on a rag, fingers gripping the material.
There's a tattoo, too. It sprawls around and down the top of his arm, just below the shoulder.
I've never seen it before, then again, I don't think I've ever seen Nolan shirtless.
I can't make out what it is in the low light, but it looks like some sort of creature, like an inked spider or snake.
It takes a moment for my eyes to meet his again. If I had anything to say to him it's definitely gone now. I'm weirdly frozen, brain malfunctioning. Shit.
But he finally clears his throat, gesturing behind him, "Working on my car, again."
I'm just blinking like an idiot. Where are my words?
My brain is still dancing between every crevice of skin, taking in the solid line where his waist meets the edge of his pants. A few rogue beauty spots catch my eye, dark and alluring.
Am I really this fickle? I see one fucking chest and suddenly I'm wordless? Not to mention it's Nolan, as in Nolan Winters who up until now I've really wanted to leave me alone. Of course he has stupid abs and tough, flexing arms. I physically pull my gaze away from them.
He's conventionally attractive, I know that. I've known that. Maybe it's never been as in my face as it is right now but that doesn't matter. I won't let him distract me.
"Ava?" He asks, a gentle frown on his face.
I'd forgotten he was doing that, saying my real name.
"Uh, yeah," I manage to mumble, "What?"
He parts his lips a little, like there's a lot more he wants to say. He says something simpler instead, "You zoned out."
"I'm tired, very hungover," When I say the words it occurs to me that he probably already knows that. He drove me home.
I study his face, his strong jaw, the way it leads down to his neck, to his collarbone, to the glistening planes of his stomach- shit, fuck. I flick my eyes up again.
He's still hesitant, like he's picking every next word carefully. The silence wraps itself around me, stretching time a little. I don't think I've ever seen him do this, think properly before he speaks to me.
"I'll go," He murmurs eventually, nodding down a bit, "I just... are you okay?"
His eyes search mine, like always. They're digging for my response. He's talking about yesterday, a yesterday I don't remember. My words are stalling again.
"I'm okay," I reply.
He pauses for a moment, eyes flashing from my hair to my nose to my lips. Then he gives a brief, understanding smile, like he's accepting my answer. Whether he actually believes me or not is another question.
Then he's moving, passing me in the hallway.
I trail his body with my gaze, every sculpted part of his skin.
His arms almost touch me, whatever tattoo is scrawled on one side facing away from me so I can't decipher it.
I get a brush of warmth too, that same cedarwood scent that trails faintly through his car.
It's like he temporarily cast a spell over me because the second he's gone I'm internally yelling at myself. What the hell was that?
I hate that he looked good, that for the first time in a long time I conceded to that fact. It's usually so ignorable, but not when he's annoyingly shoving it in my face.
It doesn't help that he's toned down his snarky comments. Without them all he does is look at me, ask if I'm okay and do favours like drive me home. There's nothing to get under my skin, none of the person I used to know.
But why is that an issue when I pushed him away in the first place?
I stop standing in the shrouded light and go to the bathroom, giving my bladder the much needed attention it's wanted since I stood up. In the mirror I fix my hair, a few too many blonde strands falling out around my newly-tied bun.
But when I trail back my stomach growls again and I'm reminded I haven't eaten anything. I know Riley won't mind if I grab something to eat, especiallyif I make her some too.
But, of course, Nolan is standing in the kitchen. Still fucking shirtless for some reason.
His back is turned to me, forcing my eyes to drag over the sculpted ridges of his body, his broad shoulders and the trail of muscled skin. There's another tattoo as well, resting at the bottom of his back. I can tell what this one is. A line of spiky barbed wire.
How many tattoos is he hiding?
He hears my feet approaching the room before my gaze can dance over him any longer, causing him to turn from the fridge to look at me. His lips stay still, quiet as he takes me in again. But he doesn't say anything this time, smiling and looking back down at the sandwich he's started making.
It's weird. Being in the same space we used to be in, one of the same rooms, only this time he's not telling me about his new piercing, drunk and stumbling around with a black eye. He's directing his attention away, respecting this new boundary.
I don't know what to do so I hover, waiting for his frame to stop standing beside the fridge.
After a minute Nolan's eyes flick to me, amusement across his face. Those green flecks shine brighter with the light.
The silence has started to ring in my ears, almost unbearable.
"You can talk to me," I say, surprising myself.
His face relaxes, body straightening as he pauses with a silver knife in hand. The clenched muscles in his arm still, other hand gripped on the counter.
"I know," He murmurs, "But I'm not sure if I'm allowed to offer you a sandwich."
His tone is somewhere between serious and sarcastic, like he's mocking the ridiculousness of this whole thing whilst not actually wanting to overstep. He's still biting back the part of himself I'm used to.
"I don't know," Is all I can say back.
A brow raises, "Do you want a sandwich?"
I nod.I'm starving.
"Then I'll make you one," He smiles, as if it's as simple as that.
He goes back to the ingredients below him before grabbing another two pieces of bread. I just watch, not exactly sure what to do. Because something in me is grateful, likes what he's doing for me, I almost hate it.
I hate that it's putting me in a headspace where I appreciate his newfound kindness.
"Thank you, for last night," I say quietly, "Riley told me you, uh, helped me."
He nods gently, "Don't worry about it."
The air crackles, strangely tenser. I'm not sure why.
I should stop talking but I can't seem to.
"Did I say anything... stupid?" I ask. My mind's still been floating with the possibility of me blurting about things I shouldn't. I can't remember most things, my head's still clouded.
That makes him pause again and narrow his eyes, biting down on his lip gently. It curls the skin and I watch the movement, wondering what he's thinking about.
"Not really," He says eventually, pressing his knuckles harder against the counter, "But you did say one thing..."
Shit. I stare at him expectantly, waiting for the end of that sentence. My heart flutters, barely noticeable but still pounding harder against my rib cage.
Nolan doesn't speak, though, he just chuckles, looking down so I'm met with that mess of chocolate brown tufts. His voice reverberates through me until he's quiet again, speaking towards the stupid sandwich he's making.
"I can't," He mutters.
My brows furrow, "Can't what?"
He lets out another huff, smile almost painting his face, "I can't finish that sentence. I don't regret getting you home safe but it wasn't right.I got too close, Ava."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I said I would leave you alone, like you wanted, and then I didn't because you were fucked and I felt bad."
I don't know what to say, lips parting in exasperation.
"And now you're thanking me for it and I just- I can't," He sighs, voice blunt, "I drew a line, don't cross it by asking me things like that."
His words feel abrasive and for some reason a lot harsher than they probably are. I didn'torderhim to leave me alone, now he's acting like there's set rules for whatever this is between us.
"I'm allowed to ask you whatI said whilst I was drunk," I say, but it comes out too snarky.
"Ava," He warns, eyes a little flared.
"I can say whatever I want, especially when it involves me."
"Do you actually want me to leave you alone or not?" He huffs back. It's not anger, not even annoyance, just prickled confusion. "You act like you hate me, but then you still talk to me. You could just ignore me completely if you wanted to."
The words cling to my skin for a moment. I never hated him, he's just an irritating asshole. And maybe he's right. I never really try to ignore him, cut him away completely.
I let him hang around, maybe that's why something volatile is retaliating in my chest. And maybe that's why I'm so defensive when he does nice things.
I'd have to admit that I don't always dislike his company.
"When have I ever suggested I wanted you to not leave me alone?" I clap back, trying to keep my voice on the same controlled level as his.
"Yesterday," He answers, too quickly, "At the bar."
There's a beat of silence, a pulse of something in the air as his eyes meet mine.
"You kept looking at me, staring at me," He exhales, "Fuck- you even made Honey think..."
His thoughts trail away again, like nothing is the correct thing to say. Honey. I see a smidge of her, a flash of her face pushed into Nolans. I saw them kissing. I saw her stupidly perfect lips pushed into his and his hand crawling up her neck.
It made me feel sick but I couldn't take my eyes off it. It's rushing back, a small moment but a vivid one. Nolan's dark hair and eyelids fluttered shut, his arms between the two of them.
His hands too close to her all night.
And that big pit of something in my stomach that pushed me to keep drinking.
Jealousy?
"I was drunk," I say bluntly, "It doesn't matter what I did, I don't even remember anything."
He huffs, "Yeah, well I do."
Somehow the room has become suffocating. There's something simmering in the air, trapped in the space between me and Nolan. I can feel his eyes grazing my face, feel my heartbeat pumping louder in my ears. My brain is grappling with new, weird things I don't like.
I'm still keeping my eyes off his stupidly sculpted chest, trying to process that drunk jealously that makes no fucking sense. There's no way I cared about Honey, the way Nolan was touching her. Why would I? What was there to be jealous of, anyway?
I was just very drunk and very stupid.
I can't spiral for long because Nolan's voice slices through me.
"You need to eat something," He murmurs,"Take your sandwich."
I look down to where he's placed the sandwich on a plate, fingers gripping the white porcelain. His arm extends out towards me, slowly.
I blink down at it but don't move. I'd forgotten where we were, what we're doing standing in this kitchen.
"Take it," He repeats, firmer.
There's a little dip in his voice, a deeper sense of command that makes part of me plummet. Since when did he start telling me what to do? And since when have I got nothing to respond to it with?
I go to reach over, hesitant. Our hands pause for a moment, fingers brushing across each-other. The skin contact is obvious, it sparks a reaction through my nerves, causes my eyes to flick down to it. It's so gentle but weirdly firm, like that commanding tone has been translated into touch.
But as soon as it happens, it's over, and the plate is in my hands. I look up and Nolan is still watching me, a little too stuck on my face.
His head tilts, "Eat up."
I'm still frozen, hesitant.
"You better be making me one of those," Riley's sleepy voice speaks from behind, so sudden I almost jump, "And put a top on,Jesus."
"Hello to you to," He grumbles back, narrowing his eyes.
And just like that whatever bubble was around us has been popped. His eyes aren't on me, I'm not dragging my eyes across his skin. I'm thinking rationally again, not wrapped up in his words.
"Are you fucking up your car again?" Riley mumbles, walking over and standing beside me.
Nolan scoffs, "I'm fixing it, yeah."
"How can you drivein-between fixing it?" She says accusingly, "You have no idea what you're doing, it's embarrassing."
He just squints at her, hand clattering back down to the edge of the counter, knife still in hand, "Do you want me to make you a fucking sandwich, or...?"
"Sorry, sorry..." She throws her hands up in a mock surrender, "Just go to Alex's garage, his dad will give you a discount, I'm sure," Her head turns to me, "They did for Ava, didn't they?"
Suddenly everyone's eyes are back on me.
"Yeah, they did," I mumble, nodding.
Nolan's quiet and I wonder if he's thinking about the many opportunities I could've told him about said discount.
Riley's gaze suddenly flutters to mine properly, her body moving in a way that compels me to turn to face her too. She takes a small breath, finding her words.
"We can visit Cole... in the hospital."
It surprises me, I'd somehow already forgotten about that. Poor Cole. Riley seems in better spirits about it though, less worked up than earlier. It'll be nice to see him, see that he's well.
"His mom said it was okay, we can meet Alex and Kat there," She continues, lightly gesturing to a text conversation on the phone slotted into her hand.
I nod softly, "Now?"
"Yeah, visiting hours aren't for much longer, so...." She replies, before turning her gaze to her brother, "Nolan, could you drive us? Please?"
He freezes, scanning her eyes, then his face falls into a dismissive frown.
"As much as I would love to I'm too busy fucking up my car, in your words," There's a level of sarcastic flatness I haven't heard in a while, "It's not drivable right now."
Riley rolls her eyes gently, a flash of something sincere in her pupils.
"You can drive my car, just..." There's a dip in her voice, "I don't think I can drive myself right now."
The air pulls tighter again, different to when it was between me and Nolan.
This is the unspoken language of their sibling relationship, Riley desperately wanting Nolan to repair what's broken.
I glance at him, his hand running through his hair as he thinks for a moment.
I can see that arm tattoo now, a black crow.
He finally kisses his teeth in defeat.
"Fuck, fine," He agrees, handing Riley her sandwich, "But eat first."
And even though he's referring to both of us, his eyes are on me as he says it.
And my chest swirls with all the things I can't seem to understand.
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