16. nathan
16
nathan
This cannot be happening. What am I, thirteen?
I glance down at the mess coating my hands and lower stomach, chest still heaving. I barely made it two strokes into the bathroom before I came so hard I nearly blacked out.
Fucking dammit.
I’ve never come like that in my life. And all because of—God help me— Caleb fucking Brown .
I roll my eyes and strip off the rest of my clothes. Guess there’s no better time for a shower.
Under the warm spray, I brace my palms against the tiles and try to figure out what the hell just happened. How did I even let it get that far? Why didn’t I get up and leave the second things started drifting in that direction?
But I know why.
I was curious. Stupidly curious about what he’d do next. He looked so excited to show me. And honestly? My reaction had way less to do with the guys on the screen, and everything to do with the one sitting beside me.
The way his long arms moved when he rested them on his thighs, his thumbs idly tracing side to side.The rise and fall of his bare chest. The way his breathing changed when he stopped paying attention to the video and started paying closer attention to me .
And his voice. Holy hell, his voice . Smooth and low. One word and I was basically gone.
I glance down and groan. Hard again.
Seriously?
I just came not even ten minutes ago.
Well. Guess that answers the question I’ve been avoiding. I’m not as straight as I thought.
Damn it, Caleb. Why’d he have to come back and screw with my head? I was fine living in sexuality denial, chasing Sarah into the sunset.
And of all people to help me figure this crap out... it had to be him . The guy who wrecked me years ago.
Or wait.
Did Sarah even hurt me that bad? Or was it him I never really got over?
“Nope,” I mutter to myself, spinning the faucet to ice cold. The water hits like a slap to the face. My entire body flinches, breath catching in my throat.
Shock therapy. That’s what I need.
Thirty seconds of misery later, my body’s trembling and my libido is officially gone. Good.
I kill the water and step out, drying off fast. My hair's still dripping when I hear Caleb’s voice through the door.
“No, I know, dad. I know.”
His tone’s tight, agitated. I freeze for a second, towel around my waist.
“Yeah, I’ll be there Monday.” His voice gets lower, more tense. “No, I haven’t seen her yet. Yes, I’m sure she will.”
I step out quietly, and find him pacing the room, phone pressed to his ear. His free hand rakes through his hair over and over.
When he sees me, he stops—and stares.
I realize then I’m still basically naked, towel barely holding on, water trickling down my chest. His eyes linger a second too long before he forces himself to look away.
Right. Because that isn’t awkward.
I rush past him toward my suitcase and pretend like I didn’t notice.
I check the time—close to 9 p.m. Wherever Sarah’s headed, she’s probably already on her way.
Caleb’s still on the phone, muttering responses. I can’t help but eavesdrop. The way he’s tense, guarded—it’s like his dad’s calling the shots on every move he makes.
Even about Sarah?
Is his dad that involved? That explains the pressure. The way Caleb tries to please everyone.
I pull on boxers, toss the towel, and get dressed in a navy button-down and beige cords. When I turn around, Caleb’s marching toward me, phone in hand.
“So, Sarah’s going to a club called Sweeties tonight.” He shows me her story.
She’s with another girl I don’t recognize—dark skin, long black braids, both of them smiling with colourful drinks in hand. The caption reads: Sweeties with my sweetie tonight! with a kissing emoji.
“Well, at least we know where they’ll be.” I give a half-smile.
“Yeah. Remind me to give her a talk about internet safety,” Caleb says, shaking his head with a soft laugh.
We fall into silence.
His gaze lingers on mine again—and this time, it feels different. Not awkward. Not tense.
Warm.
I should feel weird. But instead, I feel... seen. Like something unspoken is finally making itself known.
Shit.
“So, are we going to talk about—” I start.
“We don’t have to,” he cuts in, a small smile playing on his lips. “How about we just... get out of here. Grab a drink. Go find our girl.”
He winks.
“My girl,” I shoot back, matching his energy.
A flicker of something—jealousy? pain?—crosses his face. It’s gone so fast I almost doubt I saw it.
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” He smirks, then turns toward the bathroom.
I watch him go, heart thudding.
I don’t know what’s happening between us. But something shifted tonight.
Or maybe it was always there.
And I just didn’t want to see it... until now.