22. nathan
22
nathan
“You’re a fucking animal,” Caleb laughs, shaking the water from his hair as he walks out of the bathroom.
I didn’t realize how much better my cardio is than his until I outran him by a solid mile. I slowed down once—briefly—but it was too fun staying ahead. Ever since school, I’ve really prioritized eating healthily and moving my body. Where Caleb was always naturally fit, I have to work for my body.
“All that muscle and no stamina?” I tease, grinning as I shake my head.
I beat him back to the hotel and even managed to shower before he caught up. Okay, that was a dick move—but I won't do it every time. Unless he runs with me again. God, I hope he runs with me again.
Although, there are other types of cardio we could do together…
I push those thoughts away and focus on what I’m doing: breakfast. After days of takeout and overpriced room service, I insisted on slipping across the street to a convenience store while he was in the shower. I was able to pick up eggs, toast, a couple bananas, and two ginger shots. Along with a special little surprise I’m buzzing to give him.
It’s pretty basic, but he’ll get the message.
“What’s all this?” Caleb says, wide-eyed as he sits at the kitchenette island.
“I made us breakfast,” I shrug. “Try this first.” I slide the ginger shot toward him.
He lifts it, sniffing the cap, brow raised. “Woah. That’s aggressive.”
I laugh. “Yeah, it's a punch to the face.”
He grins and raises the shot to his lips. “So, I give you a few orgasms and suddenly you’re making me breakfast?”
“Four,” I correct smoothly. “If you count the one you gave me by accident when you tickled me on the floor.” Why hold back now?
His eyes widen as he chokes on the ginger shot, coughing violently.
I just grin and down mine with ease. “Eat before it gets cold.”
He licks the corner of his mouth slowly before grabbing his fork. I try not to stare. He’s shirtless, sitting in black shorts that cling to his thighs. His chest is still damp from the shower and I want to lick the water right off his collarbone and bite, but—
Food first. Then fun.
“You’re telling me to eat, but you’re the one staring,” Caleb chuckles with a mouthful of toast.
“Busted,” I mutter, finally picking up my own fork.
We finish our breakfast talking about Game of Thrones —arguing over characters and plot twists like it’s 2013 again.
“So,” I start, clearing my throat. “You were saying last night that you wanted to hang out today?” I grab our plates and move them to the sink.
“Yeah.” He leans back in his chair, stretching, his abs flexing beneath the light. Damn. “I want to do what we used to do… before everything changed.”
My eyes glance from him to the plates in my hand.
“Before I fucked it up,” Caleb adds quickly, eyes dropping.
I nod my head slowly. I don’t want him to be so hard on himself. I turn and open the hotel microwave. “I got you something,” I say, dropping the plastic package on top of the counter.
His eyes widen and his mouth gapes open as he takes in the sight. “Carrot cake muffins!? Nathaniel, you angel!” He laughs, immediately opening the packaging.
“Alright,” I say, wiping my hands off. I grab his laptop from the counter and head toward the bedroom. “Bring a few of those and let’s go to the bed. Horror movie time.”
His face lights up and he follows, barefoot and glowing with boyish excitement as he’s already digging into one of the muffins.
I can’t lie—seeing him respond like that when I do something for him? It does something to me. Maybe no one's ever tried to care for him like this before.
We sprawl out across the bed. For tall guys, it’s thankfully huge. Leaving tomorrow is going to be brutal.
“I can’t believe you’re making me watch this. You know horror movies mess me up,” Caleb laughs, licking his thumb clean.
“Remember The Conjuring in your basement? You couldn’t sleep for a week.”
“Screw you,” he groans, settling against the headboard. The room stays dim—curtains still half-drawn from this morning.
I cast the movie from my phone to his laptop, but I can feel it already: the tension starting to build. That familiar pull between us that’s never really gone away. Just… evolved.
“I hate you right now,” he mutters, running his fingers through his hair. He gets comfortable beside me, his legs already tangling with mine. A warmth spreads across my chest as I realize, this is what I always wanted. Even back then. Him being close feels…right.
“You’re such a baby,” I tease. “How did you ever get girls?”
The truth hits before I can stop it: Of course he got girls. Look at him. Look at this moment. Just being close to him is electrifying. It’s addicting and it’s always been that way since the moment we met.
“Nathaniel?” he says softly.
I pause the movie and turn to him. “What’s up?”
He hesitates. “Why did we never hangout at your house? I mean…where were your parents?”
The question shocks me. I guess we’ve never talked about it. Not like I never wanted to, I just…
“I—” I falter.
He backtracks. “Sorry. I was just remembering all those times we hung out in my dad’s basement. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
I take a breath. My heart pounds. I trust him enough to tell the truth…
“I lied to you.” I blurt.
His eyes search mine.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so… I’ll just come out with it.” I take in a big breath. “I used to tell you that my parents were always working but…it was just my mom. My dad left us a little before I met you. I—I didn’t want anyone to know. It was easier to say he was just ‘working’ than to say I didn’t have a dad at all.”
I exhale slowly.
“My mom worked nonstop. She did everything. And once I could, I started helping too. It’s why I work so hard to pay for myself and to help support her. I guess I…I didn’t want people to know how… how alone I really was.”
A thumb brushes my skin as he cups my cheek. I glance up to meet his eyes.
Caleb's eyes don’t look like they’re judging me, like I had feared all those years ago. Instead, he’s looking at me carefully. With compassion and understanding.
“You were never alone,” he says softly, his hand sliding behind my neck. “Not when I was around.”
I nod, eyes stinging. “I never felt alone when you were there. I really fucking missed you.”
His gaze drops to my lips. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Nathaniel. I’m sorry I missed so much time. I’m sorry I—” His forehead presses to mine. “I never should’ve broken your trust like that. You were my best friend and I... I was an idiot. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
The sincerity in his voice cracks something open in me. “It was hard seeing you with her. I didn’t understand why then, but… I think I do now,” he breathes.
There it is. What I’ve needed to hear all these years.
I realize then—I wasn’t angry because of Sarah. I was angry because I lost him that night at prom. And now, he’s here.
He rubs his palm against his chest, and my eyes track the movement. “You don’t say sorry often, do you?”
He sucks in a sharp breath, bowing his head until his hair hides his beautiful eyes. “No... I try to avoid it if I can...”
My lips quirk at that, even as a burn rises in my chest at the thought that he pulled it together just for me. “How does it feel?” I ask, lowly.
“It feels scary... and really fucking vulnerable. Like you could just... not forgive me. And leave me again." He shakes his head and pinches his eyes shut. "Fuck, I really don’t want you to leave me again,” he gasps, rubbing at his chest once more.
I rest my palm over his heart. His heartbeat matches mine. Hooking a leg over his, I pull him closer.
We’re so near now—our lips brushing, but not kissing.
I need him to know how much I forgive him. How much, as long as it's up to me, I wouldn’t leave him for anything.
My body feels charged, unhinged. Like now that I’ve finally heard those words—“I’m sorry”—my body is no longer mine.
It’s his.
I think it always has been.
He holds my waist, fingers trailing up my spine. I bury my hands in his hair, gripping like he’s the only thing holding me down.
“Caleb,” I moan, voice wrecked as his lips find my neck. It's like he's soothing himself with physical touch. And God, do I want to help soothe him in any way he needs. “ Fuck , it’s okay.” He sucks hard enough to make my toes curl, and I swear my soul leaves my body for a second. “You’re okay.” My hands clutch him tighter, desperate for more.
I need him. I need all of him. Now.
He pants against my skin, needy already.
“Do you trust me?” I whisper.