Landon
I FEEL LIKE A fucking loser. Having spent so much time trying not to be vulnerable with others, to avoid them seeing this disappointing side of me, it’s become hard to reconcile giving Nate even a single lick of it.
But the confusion inside of me came bursting out anyway, giving him a small glimpse into my soul. At least he agreed to forget it; at least he didn’t call me a pussy and run.
He didn’t… he didn’t run.
Instead, we spent the next day together, doing mundane things like watching the ports and exploring the town. And I didn’t hate it. Sure, it was slightly uncomfortable and a little more personal than I ever saw myself getting with him, but it was nice.
Especially since he never stopped treating me as he normally does. Even as we walked the small-town streets, Nate kept shit-talking me and shoving me around. Putting his hands on me in the most deliciously rough manner.
Spending time with him like that, giving him my sorrow in small increments, has made my plan feel pointless. How can I seduce him and then drop him when his disappearing act makes me panic?
Maybe… maybe I don’t need revenge. What if all I need is company? Company that I can be real with, even if all we ever are is a bundle of hatred, annoyance, and aggressive sex?
Not that I… not that I still hate him. It’s kind of hard to when he handles me so well, isn’t it? And he seems to be a little confused on that front too—on whether or not he hates me, I mean.
And I’ll take that. If the best I can get from Nate is the potential that he might not loathe me, I’ll latch on like a starving pup.
I’ve received less.
And now it’s been a few days since I saw him last, and even though I’ve always looked forward to Friday nights, I’m not exactly pleased at this moment.
Because Nate isn’t here, and I want him to be. Instead, I’ll have to wait another week—time spent longing for and anticipating his touch. His cruel words. His warmth.
I’m currently hiding out at my parents’ house, and I know the longer I stay, the more Susie’s wrath will build. Julian and Atlas are still in town, and I’ve been hiding here since I flew back and learned they’d be arriving on Monday.
Not exactly because I anticipate it hurting to see the two of them together—though that is a possibility—but because I’m nervous that the other Chastain son would have mentioned seeing me with Nate, and that’s a conversation I’m not ready to have with Julian.
All that to say, Susie is pissed about it. She’s convinced I should be around my friends if I’m feeling down and is even more irritated since this is supposed to be Atlas’s birthday present. Hanging out with Julian’s friends and seeing his hometown, I mean.
Unfortunately for the Chastain boy, I don’t feel like entertaining guests at the moment. And with my dad finally getting a start date out of me, he’s graciously decided to leave me alone.
Hiding out in my childhood bedroom seems to be the safest option at the moment. And yet, I don’t feel particularly good.
I want Nate to come and see me. I want this darkness to go away. Over the past few days, it’s been building again, and it almost makes me believe he is the only cure. Being with him.
Which, of course, makes me extremely codependent, not that I will admit that out loud.
And Nate hasn’t even sent a single text. Not that I’d expect him to. He never did before, and seeing my momentary weakness shouldn’t change our entire dynamic. I just thought… well, I wanted…
I’m not sure how to finish that. Just as I’m not sure where to go from here, now that I’ve decided against getting my revenge, I don’t think I’m that upset about Julie and Atlas anymore.
Being full of so many unexplainable emotions and this unnecessary darkness makes me itch. It makes me feel weak and broken. It has me clinging to the idea of seeing Nate again, even if just briefly, so that I can stop feeling all of this.
The sun has set, and I know for certain that somewhere in this town, Julian, Atlas, and Susie are out exploring or partying. And I’m here, missing the one man I shouldn’t and drowning in emotion as I lie in bed and wallow.
It’s gripping me by the throat, making me melancholy and isolated. I want to cry; I want to scream. I want a fucking reprieve.
Maybe this is why I grab my phone, dialing the one number that has never answered. I’m not truly expecting him to do so now—in fact, I’m kind of hoping he doesn’t. I have no way of explaining my feelings when I don’t understand them myself.
Plus, explaining my feelings to Nate? That is not what we do.
So why do I want to try?
Nate answers on the second ring, and it feels almost like betrayal.
“Hello?” He sounds as if he’s been sleeping, which makes sense as it’s a little past ten.
It also doesn’t make sense, considering it’s a Friday night. But then again, Nate is old, so.
“Hey,” I greet back, and my voice sounds far too soft and sad for my liking.
It’s silent for a moment before Nate speaks again, as if he’s trying to get a read on me.
“Are you alright?” he finally asks.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I just…”
“I understand,” Nate says, but I know he doesn’t. He just doesn’t want to get sappy with me. He doesn’t want that kind of emotional intimacy, not that I can blame him.
I don’t necessarily want to get all emotional with him either; I just don’t know where else to turn. Nothing makes me feel as safe as he does.
This sudden realization has my eyes watering, my heart thumping angrily at the admission.
“Come here,” I murmur, doing my best to keep the tears from sounding in my voice.
“You just saw me,” Nate counters, and he sounds more awake now as he moves around on the other end of the line.
“I know, but I want to see you,” I admit. And as he says nothing back, panic sets in, and I continue to ramble. “Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m just, uh, horny. I’ve been hiding out at my parents’ because Julie’s in town and I—”
“I’ll be there in the morning,” Nate interrupts.
“What?”
“I just booked a ticket. I’ll be there in the morning.”
“Oh,” I mutter, my hands twisting the comforter under me just so I have something to do with them. “Thanks.”
“Is that all?” His tone is a little irritated, bored even.
“Yeah. That’s all.”
“See you tomorrow, then.” And then he hangs up, and I’m left to stare at my ceiling in the dark.
At least he’s coming. Tomorrow, I won’t be so alone.
Now I just need to figure out what to say to him when he arrives.
The sun is beating down on me, warming my skin and flooding my senses with the smell of sunscreen and grass.
People are moving along the streets, window shopping and eating on decorated patios, but I’m standing here like an idiot as I stare up at the hotel Nate always books.
How he can afford to come out here twice a month and book hotel rooms, I don’t know. I guess the Chastains pay him well.
But that’s the least of my worries. Now that he’s here, waiting for me just inside this building, I’m a bit nervous. I’m sure all that’s going to happen is some rough sex and some subtle cuddling, but it still feels more… intimate this time.
I called, and he came. This is not the routine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and as I pull it out, it’s Nate reminding me of the room number. Is he looking down at me now? Can he see me hesitating?
That’s somehow more embarrassing than fumbling once I’m in front of him, so I force my feet to move. Plus, if the topic does arrive, I can blame my emotional instability on Julian’s trip out here. I don’t have to explain that I’m fucked up for no reason.
I don’t have to give him honesty.
Once I make it up to his floor, before I can even manage to knock, the door is being pulled open.
Nate stands before me, his dark hair framing his face and his cat-like eyes narrowing in on me as he runs them over my entire body.
Like he’s checking for damage.
“Come in,” he commands, moving out of the way so I can enter.
As the door closes quietly behind me, Nate moves to sit on the edge of the bed. This time around, he isn’t urgent. He isn’t desperate to touch me or so angry he might combust.
He watches me with a calm, calculating expression as I fidget in front of him.
“Already forgetting who I am, old man?” I nag, falling into old habits in search of comfort. “The dementia—”
“Why did you call?” Nate interjects, his shoulders squared, his body primed for a fight.
I falter. Is he not willing to do the dance we’ve been so meticulously practicing for months? He’s acting differently, just as I am, and I hate it.
I want him to scream, to pin me down and pull me from the liquid death I’m drowning in.
“I… I was horny,” I offer, falling back on what I said last night.
But Nate shakes his head, his lips tilting into a frown. “No, that’s not it. I mean, sure, maybe you are horny, but that’s not all there is. You look… worn out.”
I can feel my body sagging, giving in to the desire to let it all go. To speak and speak and never stop, if only so that he can comfort me. But Nate doesn’t comfort people. He bullies them.
There really is no reason for me to share, so lying it is.
“Maybe I’m just bothered that Julian brought his little boyfriend to California. Into my home,” I spit out, and I try to conjure the anger I normally feel.
“And so you needed me to come here? So you can use me as some kind of sick rebound?” Nate asks.
He doesn’t particularly sound upset about it, but I hate the idea that he thinks that lowly of me. That he believes I would use his body to rid myself of thoughts of Julian.
“What? No. I just… I didn’t want to be alone. To be around it all.” It’s the complete truth, just not in relation to what he thinks.
Nate seems to debate this for a moment, watching me curiously. And as I fiddle with my own fingers and debate what to say next, he leans back on his palms, spreads his thick legs, and clicks his tongue.
“So you’re bothered that Julian is with Atlas, even though you said you’re happy for him?” He’s trying to dissect me with his words, and I don’t particularly like it.
“Yes?” But it comes out more like a question, as if I’m unsure.