8. Nate
8
NATE
I couldn’t believe that Rachel said yes. That she agreed to be my “student” like this. She had to be downright blind or oblivious not to see how much I wanted her. It felt duplicitous to joke about showing her how to snag a man when I wanted to be the one she chose.
I couldn’t believe that I even proposed this deal. Sleeping with Rachel felt like a pipe dream. Something out of reach and forbidden. She was younger. She was my assistant. And she was my friend’s sister.
Yet, she was an adult, fully aware of her choices. If she wanted to play along while I tried to show her how to be with someone like me, I wouldn’t hold her back.
In fact, I couldn’t wait to begin.
She seemed just as impatient, riding the high of this conversation we should have never held. “So, when do we start?—”
My phone buzzed on the table top. I winced, hating the distraction. Seeing that it was my mother’s number, though, I knew I had to answer.
“Dammit. I’ve got to get this.” I winced at her looking at my phone.
“No, no. No worries. It’s not like this was important.”
I hated, absolutely hated her self-deprecating laugh. It sounded forced. She didn’t laugh often, more of a dry humor sort of woman, but I didn’t like the idea of her not being herself with me.
“Hey, no. This is— you are—important.”
Still, she scooted out from her side of the table. Squeaks marked her exit along the vinyl booth seat, and I scrambled to catch up. I scribbled my signature on the check that had been dropped off, putting it on my tab.
“I mean, if my wish is a Christmas one,” she said as she looked at her smartwatch, “there’s time.”
“Only fifteen days to go,” I warned playfully. “Cutting it close.”
“That depends on how good of a ‘teacher’ you are.”
God damn, I was loving this sassy, teasing side of her. Every little detail I learned made me want to know more and more. My phone had gone silent, but as I stood facing her, smiling down at her smirking up at me, it rang again.
“Dammit,” I repeated.
“Better get that. We’ll catch up later,” she said in a hasty farewell.
I didn’t care for the thought of her running from me. If she was shy, we’d work around it, through it, or with it. But if she was taking off quickly like this because she was regretting this deal, I wanted to make sure she would stand by her choice. I wouldn’t force her into anything, no matter how much I was already hooked on the idea of having her attention intimately, even in the guise of “teaching” her.
I answered the phone before I’d miss this call too. Walking outside, since it wasn’t snowing yet like they'd forecast for this week, I put my earbuds in for a hands-free call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Well. It’s about time you answered,” she teased. “Busy day?”
You could say that. I was busy with thoughts of Rachel. “Yeah, it has been, uh, one thing after another.” She’d first called during that meeting that went way over. The meeting that could’ve been a freaking email. I’d texted back, saying that I’d call her as soon as I could, and then that fell from my mind.
“Your dad is doing fine in post-op,” she reported.
“As I expected.” I smiled at the relief in her tone, nonetheless.
“How can you say that? He had a medical procedure done.”
“An outpatient, routine one. That he’s had several times before.” I wasn’t dismissing her. Not at all. I loved my parents and they knew it. Just like we all three knew how much of a worrywart she could be about medical procedures. She watched one viral video about a botched surgery at a hospital somewhere, and she was nervous ever since.
“That doesn’t matter.”
I smiled, not offended or bothered enough to placate her. “You’re right. And of course, I’m glad he’s doing fine. When will the biopsy results be in? Two weeks?” I guessed.
“I sure hope so. It would be a lovely Christmas present to know his cancer is still in remission.”
I nodded. “It sure would be.” I was optimistic, since he’s been in the clear for twenty years now.
“Speaking of presents,” she said in that singsong tone, “when will you tell me what you’d like for a gift?”
I chuckled. “You don’t need to get me anything.”
“We do too! You’re our son.”
“Uh-huh, and you’re my mother. And Dad’s my dad.”
“It’s a law that we get you something.”
“It’s not a law.”
“It’s mandated somewhere.”
“In your head?”
“Fine. Yes. Nate, why must you be so difficult?”
I grinned, glad that this could be the source of a headache for her. In hindsight, after hearing about how Mr. and Mrs. Brown were making Rachel’s life challenging, I knew that I was already blessed with the gift of my parents being the two people they were.
“I get it from Dad,” I teased.
“Ooh,” she growled. “Don’t you get me started on him .”
“He’s infinitely easier than I am.”
“So you say.” She huffed. “Any ideas for him yet?”
“Not a single one.”
“What are you going to get him?” she demanded, impatient but not rude. We both tired her like this.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Nate. Christmas will be here in?—”
“Fifteen days,” I finished for her, just having clarified that number with Rachel.
“Yes. It’ll be here before you know it. Oh. That reminds me. Will you be on your own at the cabin this year?”
I looked at the clear blue sky, considering her question. It’d become a habit for me to have the family cabin on my own. We’d all go to the big Malley, Inc. holiday party, and then I’d drive to the cabin. Sometimes, they joined me. Or Brandon would come by. But they always deferred to me and knew it was “my” turn at the cabin, hence her question. The little structure really was an idyllic location for peace and quiet.
“Because Dad and I might drive up and stay a night.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure, Mom. Maybe I’ll bring a guest.”
She shrieked, likely startling everyone else in the waiting room at the medical facility she was waiting in for Dad. “A guest ? You mean a woman?”
Laughing, I lowered my gaze and walked in a return route to the office building. “Jeez. You sound so eager.”
“You know how impatient I am. How much Dad and I both can’t wait for you to find someone.” She sighed. “It’s been six years, Nate.”
Six long years. That first year, I thought that sleeping around a bit might help my mood. It hadn’t. Two one-night stands proved that I just wasn’t ready.
But I am now.
I didn’t have to think twice about starting something—anything—with Rachel. Even something as undefined as being her mentor for finding a man.
Huh. That’s interesting.
Of all people, it’d be her to spark a little desire in life.
“Who is she? Do we know her? We have met her?” She drew in a quick breath to reload for another litany of questions.
“Asking if you know her and if you’ve met her mean the same thing, don’t they?”
“Semantics,” she retorted. “Who is she, Nate?”
“Right now, she’s my plus-one.” I smiled, loving the promise of not having to face the holiday party solo.
“Okay. So we’ll see her at the party?” She squealed, unable to contain her excitement.
“Yes.”
“And then you’ll take her to the cabin?” she asked. “Oh, this sounds serious.”
Hardly. Rachel and I weren’t even technically together.
After a little more of a chat, where I mostly tried to steer her away from blasting me with more questions about my “mystery woman”, I disconnected the call and went right back to work.
It should’ve taunted me, knowing that Rachel was just down the hall, within reach, but the workload I wanted to get through had me focused. At least, it did until the very end of the day.
A text from Brandon jarred me. For the first time, I saw his name and didn’t immediately think of him as my friend. I saw his caller ID and thought of him as Rachel’s brother. As a connection to her.
Brandon: Want to go out tomorrow night?
Brandon: We can find you a date to the big Malley party.
I winced, knowing I’d already accomplished that feat—with his sister. Brandon would be at this party. He typically made plans to come, being a family friend.
How will he react? I hadn’t considered his seeing me with Rachel there. While it could look believable that I’d asked her to be my date for the sake of not being alone, it could also appear that I was truly curious about her. That I was interested in her.
I refused to be a hypocrite like that. I’d just told him last week that I understood she was off-limits, yet here I was, proposing a naughty deal with her.
I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.
Nate: Nah. I’m not interested. Maybe another time.
I sent the text and worried whether I was playing with fire to arrange for Rachel to come with me. Brandon and I had been friends for a long, long time. Surely, he was protective of her because he didn’t want some random ass to mistreat her. But he had to know I wasn’t that sort of a player. If he respected me as a friend, why wouldn’t he be able to consider me as a partner for his sister?
He couldn’t be so two-faced as to approve of me as one of his closest friends then also shun me if I tried to make a move on his sister.
That would likely become my Christmas wish—exploring this new thing with Rachel while also not losing my friend.
Too bad it sounded easier said than done.