Chapter 8 Nathan
NATHAN
After I take Evan back to our old neighborhood, I drive for a while in the opposite direction from the frat house.
I should go home and get some sleep, but I’ll just lie there staring at the ceiling and people will be getting up soon.
Putting the blender on to make smoothies.
Arguing over who gets the best shower. I just can’t face it right now.
What did he mean I ‘screwed him over?’ I know I messed up back then.
My stupidity got us both into trouble and Evan got most of the blame, like always.
But how was that my fault? He told me not to say anything.
I was just doing what he told me to do. I wanted to remind him of that, but it felt wrong.
With everything that’s happened to him since I left, it didn’t feel right to argue.
Sitting with Evan in Frankie’s up to that point …
it felt like old times. Except there was this ghost between us.
And worst of all, Evan was like a ghost too.
Something’s missing in him. That mischief and life he had when we were growing up.
My stomach drops when I consider the possibility that it’s gone forever.
I pull the SUV into an empty parking lot and take a nap until a security guard taps on the window and tells me I can’t sleep here.
When I check the time on my dashboard, it’s almost 9am. Shit.
I drive as fast as I can back to the house to get my tennis bag. No one’s home when I get there—everyone’s already at classes or practice. I haven’t even had time to change my clothes or take a shower.
When I get to the tennis center, everyone’s already out on the courts, warming up. I rush into the locker room and change into my tennis clothes. Only looking up from lacing my shoes to find Coach Sanchez standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re late, Nathan.”
“I know, I’m sorry Coach. It won’t happen again.”
He’s still watching me carefully after I’ve laced my shoes up and grabbed my racket out of my bag.
“Is something going on?”
My neck flushes. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You’ve never been late to practice before. And you look like hell. Is there something I should be worried about? Is there something you need to talk to someone about?”
“No, Coach.”
He looks me over again. “You look like you’ve been out all night. Were you drinking?”
“Of course not. I just slept through my alarm.”
He nods, but I can see he doesn’t believe me.
“You know you can come to me with any problems, right?”
“Yes Coach. Thank you. Like I said, it won’t happen again.”
When I get out onto the court, Priestley’s giving me the stink eye and Ben’s trying to throw me a sympathetic smile.
Fuck, how did I let this happen?
Even now I’m here, I can’t focus. Everyone’s already paired up so Assistant Coach Rodriguez hits with me, but I miss everything and can’t even get my serve locked in.
He jogs up to the net and asks me if I’m okay, basically repeating Coach Sanchez’s little speech.
I tell him I’m fine. I can’t wait until we can get off the court and I can be left alone.
I’m never like this. I love tennis. Even practice. Love being out here on the crisp blue courts with the sun beating down on my back. The rhythmic sound of tennis balls hitting rackets. Laughter from my teammates. The camaraderie. The team spirit. But I don’t feel it today.
Priestley approaches me the second we get into the locker room, repeating my coaches’ questions, but with less concern.
“You know this game against Harvard is important, right?”
“I know that.”
“Give him a break, Priestley. He was probably just out getting laid,” Archer chimes in, pulling a t-shirt over his head.
Priestley sighs and rolls his eyes. “No one asked you.”
“Hey, when we’re in the locker room, only Coach can tell me what to do.”
“That sounds dirty.” Miles grins.
“Ew, shut up.”
My face flushes, but Priestley at least lets me go.
I text Evan.
What are you doing later?
No reply comes and I tell myself he’s probably asleep. Not ignoring me.
I can’t let this go. I need to talk to him. We need to get all of this out in the open. Talk about what happened. Make him let me explain. Apologize. And if he still doesn’t listen, if he still wants to resent me, then fine. There’s nothing else I can do after that.
I make it through the day. My business class with Ben—who is good enough not to question me on why I was late to practice. A meeting at the frat house I sit through on autopilot, until Priestley calls on me to provide some documents I luckily worked on already last week.
I keep checking my phone whenever I can. But there’s no reply from Evan. Unable to wait around anymore, the second the meeting is over, I hop in my car and head over to my old neighborhood, sending a message to Evan on the way.
I’m coming over, meet me at the beach? Our old spot where the good shells used to be. I know you’re mad, but please, I just want one chance to explain.
While I drive, I can almost smell the sand and hear the clack of shells in buckets we were bringing home for our moms. Evan’s salty skin as we stood under the outdoor showers and washed sand off our feet.
While I averted my eyes and tried not to get excited over Evan being so close and so almost-naked.
I look at my phone at every stop sign and light, but there’s no reply from Evan.
After getting no response, I don’t expect to find him at our spot. But when I stop the car, there he is, sitting on a boulder with a hoodie on and his back to the road.
The minute I see him, I know I’m fucked. I would have run through fire to be here right now, and not just because he needs me. Or someone. But because ever since I saw him again at his dad’s funeral, even though it was the shittiest of circumstances, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.
He's staring out at the black water.
“What’s up?” I ask, taking a seat beside him on the sand.
He looks over at me and snorts.
I frown. “What?”
“You’re wearing a fucking tie.”
My face flushes. “I had a meeting at the fraternity. Everyone wears suits for them.” I loosen the tie self-consciously and shuffle my weight on the boulder. “How’s everything with you?”
He’s quiet for so long, I don’t think he’s going to answer. Finally he clears his throat.
“You said you wanted to explain. So here I am. Explain. And then leave me and my family the fuck alone. The last thing Stace and Ma need is you coming back and hurting them. They’ve already lost enough.”
“I … ” Fuck. “I’m sorry, Evan.”
He looks disappointed. And I know at this point, sorry isn’t enough.
“I’m sorry, but we were just kids. You know I didn’t mean to get you into trouble. I didn’t mean any of it, it was just a stupid mistake.”
“It’s not the mistake though, Nate. I know you didn’t mean to fuck up but you stole a fucking car.”
“I know that, and I wish I could take it back, I-”
“That’s not what I’m pissed about, and if you can’t even see what you did wrong….”
Frustration bubbles until I’m standing, looking down at him and speaking in a voice that’s way more high-pitched than my normal voice. “So tell me then. Stop making me guess, just fucking tell me.”
He squints, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m for real. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Nate, you threw me under the fucking bus. Your stepdad’s fancy lawyer nearly got me thrown in juvie. They made me look like a fucking delinquent. They said it was all my idea. That I ‘influenced’ you to do it.”
My heart drops. My blood going cold.
“What?”
“I never expected your stepdad to pay for my lawyer, but I didn’t expect you to sell me out like that. You could have got off on the charges without feeding me to the fucking sharks.”
“Evan, I … ” I scramble back down to the seat next to him, reaching for him before thinking better of it.
He flinches from my touch. “I didn’t know, I swear, you’ve got to believe me, I would have never …
” It’s like a switch has been flipped in my head.
Relief and dread rushing through me at once.
So that’s why he ghosted me? I really did screw him over, and I didn’t even know.
Evan’s face has softened, but he still won’t look at me. When he speaks, it’s practically a mumble. “It doesn’t matter now anyway.”
“It does. I can make it better.”
He scoffs. “How you gonna do that, Nate? You got a time machine in the trunk of that fancy-ass car?”
My face floods with heat. “Okay, I deserve that. But you’ve got to know I didn’t choose this, any of it.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not blaming you for accepting his money. I’d do the same in your place. Someone tried to give me a Beemer? An Ivy League education? Yeah, I’d take that shit too.” He looks down, his face flushing. “But I’d never sell my friend out for it.”
“Neither would I!”
He shakes his head, turning his body away from me before wiping sand off his legs and standing up. “I don’t know what you want from me, Nate.”
“I don’t want anything. I just want to be there for you.”
“You don’t have to be. It’s done. Forget it. You told me you didn’t know, and I believe you. You can go back to your frat bros and your fancy college with a clear conscience.”
I try to reach for him, but he flinches from my touch again, like I burned him.
“Just leave me alone, yeah.”
His tone cuts right through me. Have I really hurt him that much?