Chapter 16 Evan
EVAN
Itap my fingers against the wooden desk as I stare at the monitor in front of me, unable to take in a single word on the screen while Nate talks to Nora on speakerphone.
Nate’s phone calls with his wife have been less private since we crossed that line a few weeks ago.
“Did you find a new dress for the wedding Saturday?” Nate says, a smile playing on his lips as he absently twirls a pen between his fingers.
“I did,” Nora says. “Poppy helped me choose.”
“I’m glad you two had fun shopping.”
“We were talking about how we should all go out sometime.”
Nate’s brows pull together. “Who’s we?”
“Me, you, Evan, Poppy, and her husband, Dom.”
Nate raises an eyebrow at me. “You up for that, Ev?”
I shake my head. “No thanks. That bloke’s intimidating.”
Nate laughs. “Did you hear that, dimples? Evan’s scared of Dom.”
“I didn’t say I was scared.”
“Just intimidated?” Nate’s grin turns feral. “Surely you’d beat him in a masculinity contest with your sixty trillion swimmers.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll pass. But you lot should do it. Have fun.” The last thing I want to do is be the fifth wheel on a couple’s double date. It’s bad enough being the third wheel with Nora and Nate.
Nate smooths a hand down his tie, his crisp white shirt stretches across his broad chest, the picture of professionalism despite the jokes coming out of his mouth. “I’ll pass, too. It’d feel like I was cheating on Evan.” He winks at me.
Fucking winks at me.
A strange curiosity stirs low in my stomach.
The same curiosity I locked in a box and buried when we were at uni.
It’s not something I want to explore, but being intimate with the two of them a few weeks ago has unearthed old feelings—the box now pushing up through the dirt, just waiting to be unlocked.
Nora laughs down the phone. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Love you,” Nate says.
“Love you too.”
The call ends, and the office falls quiet again.
Nate leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head, unaware he’s just frazzled my nervous system with one wink. “You want a lift to the wedding on Saturday? You can stay over if you want.”
I straighten in my seat. “Why, is Nora ovulating again?” The words are like sand on my tongue.
“Nah, she’s driving. She doesn’t want to drink in case…” He shrugs as if he’s unable to say the words or even dare to hope. “You know.”
“Sure, a lift would be good.” I stare back at my screen, still unable to read the words, but for once it has nothing to do with my dyslexia. The words jumble together as my mind wanders.
Nate strides out of the en suite into the dorm room with a towel around his waist and another in his hand, drying his dark, curly hair. “You can go in now.”
I sit up on the single bed, my eyes traitorously tracking the water running in slow lines over the muscles in his back and down to the dip at his waist.
I snap my gaze away. Best mates don’t look at each other like that. “Cheers,” I say, focusing on my phone.
Nate drops onto the edge of his bed, his legs widening, the towel threatening to expose him. “Who you messaging?”
I tap the screen on my phone. “I might bring Chloe back here tonight.”
Nate groans. “Great. So I’m bunking with Rob so you can get laid again.”
I smirk. “That was your decision to sleep in Rob’s dorm. I said you could stay.”
“And listen to you fucking all night?” Nate grabs a sock from my pile and throws it at my head.
“Better than Rob’s snoring.” I lean back against my pillow, trying to sound casual. “You could stay. She might be down for some fun like Emilie was.” I cringe internally. After Emilie, Nate wanted to talk about it, but I brushed it off.
Nate stills. His eyes flick to mine. “You think she’s into that?” His voice is rougher than before, and I swear his towel just twitched.
I shrug, acting nonchalant, ignoring the way my heart pounds behind my ribs. “Maybe.”
Nate drags a hand through his damp hair and huffs. “I don’t think I’ve recovered from the last time.”
I grin. “Emilie was enthusiastic.”
“That’s one word for it.” Nate points at me. “I think I’d best stay with Rob. That way I can keep my dignity.”
I huff out a laugh, remembering how we both struggled to last with Emilie. My dick throbs at the memory of how good Nate felt when we were inside her. “You worried you won’t last again?”
“Fuck you.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I’m hoping I get closer to Nora tonight. The last thing I need is her thinking I’m some sort of man whore.”
A trickle of excitement cascades down my spine. “You want to bring Nora back here?”
He throws another sock at my head. “Don’t you go getting ideas. There’s no fucking way I’m sharing her.”
I shield my face with a grin before I get another sock on the head. “Okay. Nora’s off-limits. I get it.” I clear my throat and point to a plate of cookies on his desk. “Speaking of Nora. She baked you some of your favourites again.”
Nate’s face softens in a way it never does for anyone else. “You think she likes me?” He rises from the bed and takes two steps towards the desk, the towel dangerously close to giving way.
“I don’t see her baking for anyone else.”
He picks up a cookie, admiring it with a dopey grin.
“Mate, that cookie isn’t gonna propose to you.” I push myself off the bed and pick up a cookie, break it in half, and shove one piece into my mouth. “Mmm. She’s definitely trying to poison you with kindness.”
Nate shrugs and bites into the cookie, mumbling, “If I die, tell her I loved her.”
“Yeah,” I say, watching him smile at the plate that came with a future attached. It doesn’t matter that I secretly like Nora too. Nate’s smitten with her, and besides, there’s someone I think I like more, but he's too wrapped up in her to notice.
“Ev?” Nate’s voice cuts through the memory.
I blink hard as the office comes back into focus. The whir of the computers, the smell of printer ink and coffee, and the quiet click of Nate’s pen.
He regards me, brows drawn slightly. “Where did you go?”
I drag in a breath. “Somewhere dangerous.” My words come out too tight, just like they did back then.
Nate leans forward. “Are you staying over after the wedding or what?” His deep timbre has a way of rearranging my insides.
My throat bobs. If she’s not ovulating, why does he want me to stay? Is Nora still off-limits? Are we doing this when she’s not ovulating? “What for?”
Nate shrugs and twists his pen between his fingers. “Save Nora driving to the other side of town. You come to ours. Nora drives to the wedding and back. Few more beers back at ours. Less faff.”
“I might just drive.” I need to keep a clear head where these two are concerned. All their brain cells have left the building so I must be the sensible one. Staring at my screen, I scratch the itch on my neck and tug at my collar. Is it hot in here?
“Right. Drive to ours, then you can decide on the night.”
What does that even mean? Decide whether I’m useful? Wanted? If Nora’s ovulating? If Nate’s drunk enough to forget I’m his best mate and see me as something else entirely?
I keep my eyes on the screen as if it holds all the answers to my life and type, How often do women ovulate? My search history is officially weird.
My mouse hovers over the answer. Once a month. I do the math in my head. So she won’t be ovulating for another two weeks. I wipe the moisture from my upper lip, unsure what to make of why he’s asking me to stay over.
Nate’s chair scrapes back slightly. “Ev.” His voice is calm and somewhat grounding. “Stop overthinking.”
I blink. “I’m not overthinking.”
He snorts. “You’re googling.”
I close the tab too fast, heart racing, hoping he didn’t see what I was googling.
He shrugs on his jacket. “Come to ours after the wedding. Have a drink. Chill out.”
My mouth goes dry. Chill out. Right. If only it were that simple.
“You coming to grab lunch, or you gonna spiral at your desk all day?”
“I’m not spiralling.”
He snorts, pointing a finger at me. “You’re sweating.”
I tug my collar again, forcing a laugh. “It’s hot in here.”
Nate’s gaze lingers a second too long, then he shakes his head as if he’s shaking off a thought. “Come on. You’re doing my head in today.”
I force a smile. “Good. I live to serve.”
His mouth quirks.
I glare as I follow him out of the office, grabbing my jacket from the hook. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” He walks away like the smug bastard he is.
He’s right. I don’t hate him at all. Quite the opposite, which is why I’ll do anything for him—even give him a part of me. And while I secretly want to be more than just a baby donor, the idea of this becoming anything else terrifies me.