WHAT IS THE DEAL BETWEEN YOU AND RAPHAEL?
34
Nuri : Where are you taking her?
Nate : Not telling you.
Nuri : Oh, come on!
Nuri : I’m her best friend, I can give you some advice!
Nate : I don’t need any advice.
Nuri : I take all the credit for you FINALLY making a move.
Nuri : So excuse me for being excited about it.
Nate : It’ll be fine.
Nuri : Oh, by the way… I think she doesn’t want Jack to know.
Nuri : At least for now.
Nate : Fuck.
Nuri : Yeah… When she finds out that he already knows, she might get mad.
NATE
I feel like it’s becoming a recurring situation between the two of us. Me, saying stuff that upset her, and her getting mad and yelling at me. In my car. Funny how I’ve tried to poke Jack by implying the possibility of Prue and I having sex in here, but all we do in this damned car is usually argue.
I might need to change it. It’s obviously cursed.
“You can’t go around punching people!” She groans, massaging her temples.
“I did not actually punch him,” I counter. “Just… Scared him a little.” She rolls her eyes and I straighten up in my seat, leaning towards her. “Come on… I was young, having a sort of repressed crush on you, and he was talking shit. About you and Jack.”
She sighs. We’ve been sitting in the car for ten minutes. Me, telling her exactly what happened, her processing and getting upset with me. And herself.
“I’m going to ask again, but why the hell did you not tell me?
“I’m telling you now, aren’t I? Look, I can’t change the mistakes I made back then. But I can make them right, now. I’ll answer anything you want to know, but I need you to stop getting mad at me for my past missteps. I mean, they’re all related to how I clumsily tried to protect you. You’ve already made your point about how you felt about that. Trust me, I’m mad enough at myself for the two of us… but please, Prudence. Give me a real chance.”
I’m not sure if that little monologue got through to her, but she finally lifts her eyes to look at me then. Her whole face tight with doubts and insecurities. Both feelings are suffocating her because of me and my actions. And god, I want nothing more than to erase and replace them with something else. Something better.
“Fine,” she concedes, albeit a little reluctantly.
But I smile nonetheless as I finally start the car, before reaching to grab her hand in mine.
“Thank you,” I say, bringing her hand to my mouth giving it a quick peck.
I don’t let it go as I start driving, keeping her hand in mine over the center console. She doesn’t try to pull her hand away, and I take it as a small victory.
I’ve never been one to crave physical touch like I do now. I can’t seem to keep my hands away from her, like if my brain needs to feel her constantly to know it’s real. That I’m not back in college, dreaming or fantasizing about her.
“Random feeling of the day,” she says, her voice a little unsure. “I’m still really excited about our date, even though I’m still a little mad.”
I chuckle, giving her hand a little squeeze. “I was an anxious mess all afternoon.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to show you a hobby that is important to me and that I’ve kept to myself for a long time.”
She scrunches her nose in confusion, turning her face away from the road to look at me.
“I’ll try to keep an open mind, but if it’s taxidermy or hunting, I’m out of here.”
A laugh bursts free from my throat, and she giggles next to me. When it finally stops, my eyes are a little teary.
“It’s not. Nothing to do with dead animals, don’t worry.”
She’s still smiling when I park in front of the large building, but her smile wavers when she sees it.
“What’s this place?” She asks warily.
I look at the large concrete building. “It was built two years ago and cut into smaller spaces for people to rent. There are a few startups and offices, a Karaoke, a dance studio, even a little community library.”
“Oh,” she relaxes. “Sorry, it looked a little like the beginning of a horror story for a second. I was scared your hobby was kidnapping and cutting up people in your spare time.”
I grab her hand and start walking towards the front door of the space I own, arching a brow.
“Still listening to too many creepy podcasts, and weird audiobooks, I see.”
“Can’t help it,” she says, walking next to me. “Jack likes to put it on in the car, and I used to drive him around a lot.”
“Not sure Ikram will enjoy that,” I chuckle, picturing the look of horror on his face. “He’s definitely more of a rom-com guy.”
We stop in front of the door. I unlock it quickly and we both step inside.
The button I press next to the door opens all the electric shutters, lighting the large open space. Prue looks around, studying everything, and I wait anxiously, standing behind her, my hands in my pockets.
“I really hope that camera in the middle of the room, turned towards a blanket on the ground is not meant to film porn, because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at myself having sex,” she says, turning just enough to glance at me, and I can see she’s joking but also slightly concerned.
“It’s not,” I laugh, taking a few steps towards it. “I’ve been into photography for about four years. You were probably too drunk and then too hungover to notice them, but all the landscapes hanging on the walls in my house are from me.” I grab the camera from the tripod and turn it on. “But I like photographing people more.”
Our eyes clash when I lift my gaze to study her reaction. But she’s just looking at me, maybe studying mine…
I clear my throat and turn around, walking towards the table in the back of the room where I keep my lenses and memory cards. Above it, against the wall, are a few of my favorite framed shots. Portraits or other landscapes I took, people and scenes I captured on the street.
I feel her stop next to me and I force myself not to look at her, focusing instead on replacing my lens and changing the memory card. The silence stretches, and I wonder if maybe I’ve somehow messed up again. Does she really think I’ve brought her here to—
“Those people didn’t know you were taking their photo,” she whispers reverently.
“They did not. I showed them afterward, though. Sent it to them when they wanted me to.”
“They’re beautiful.”
She turns back towards me, and I can’t help but step a little closer, her shoulder touching my bicep.
“They were surprised when I showed them the shots, like they didn’t recognize themselves. When you pose for a portrait, or look at yourself in a mirror, you always look different than when a stranger snaps a picture of you unnoticed.”
“It’s the same with drawings… I used to draw people in the bar when I worked back in Seattle.”
I watch her in silence. She left her purse by the door, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’d like to take pictures of you. So you can see yourself how I see you.”
She chuckles awkwardly. “Well, if you take pictures of me, and I know that you are, that would simply be a portrait…”
“Do you trust me?”
She narrows her eyes in suspicion, her deep multicolored eyes boring into me.
“The jury is still out.”
“Fair enough,” I chuckle, but grab her arm to interlace our fingers, leading her towards the blanket I’ve set up this morning. She follows a little reluctantly, but doesn’t fight it. “What’s your favorite food?”
We stop next to the blanket and I instruct her to sit. She rolls her eyes in silent protest, but does as I ask, removing her shoes and ankle socks.
“I don’t know,” she groans. “I guess you can never go wrong with pasta?”
“You guess ? Hmhm, that’s not good enough. Back in college, you were obsessed with sushi.”
She thinks for a minute, folding her legs against herself, and circling them with her arms. “They’re fine, but I got over it. Oh, wait! I do love some good empanadas. But they’re not really—”
“Empanadas? Have you tried any since you got to Los Angeles?”
“No,” she frowns. “Why? Are they bad?”
“Oh, no,” I reassure her, fumbling with the tripod. “I was asking to know if you already had a favorite place to order them here. But since you don’t, I actually know a really good one.”
I program the timer to snap at random but also with a command on my phone—you never know, I might miss a perfect picture of her if I trust it 100%.
“We’re all set,” I smile, sitting on the blanket, facing her. “Should I order some empanadas, then?
“Are you sure? I mean, I really like them, but it’s kind of a comfort food, not really date food—”
“What do you consider date food?” I ask, leaning backward, using my hands as support.
“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Something fancy? Empanadas can get messy.”
“Do you want something fancy?”
“No,” she blurts out. “I—I like empanadas.”
“Good,” I type the order on the app, picking a lot of different ones so she can have choices. I like them all, anyway. “Do you want to drink something?” I ask, standing up to fetch us something from the little fridge in the back of the room.
She seems to consider it for a moment, before she shakes her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
“Water is fine.”
“You know water is not the only non-alcoholic beverage that exists, right?”
She glares at me and I duck with a laugh when she throws her white sock at me.
“Hey, I’m just saying! You looked like you were having an internal argument with drunk you, over there. I have a couple of sodas, a bottle of pineapple juice, beers, and… An old bottle of Rum that I’m not sure anyone should drink.”
“Reassuring,” she chortles.
“The sodas, juice, and beers are good. I bought them this morning.”
“Hm… What soda?”
“I have sprite or coke.”
“Sprite, please.”
“Still not trusting your drunk self?” I chuckle, grabbing the cool can and a tall glass.
“Definitely not around you.”
I’m still laughing when I sit back with her and hand her her drink.
“Something wrong?” I ask, my smile dropping when I notice the weird expression on her face.
She sighs, her shoulders slumping a little as she rubs her forehead. “No, it’s just—The camera. It’s uh… I don’t like pictures. We were forced to take family pictures every Christmas, and even now, I have internal freak outs when I’m asked to pose in front of a camera.”
“The whole point here is you don’t have to pose. Come on, let’s talk while we wait for the food.”
She casts a quick glance towards the camera again before she shakes her head, closing her eyes briefly.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” I nod.
“What is the deal between you and Raphael?”
Oh. I was not expecting that.
“It’s a long story,” I sigh.
“We’ve got time, don’t we?”
“Yeah. Alright… Well, it started about four years ago. I’ve just started working with the LAPD with consults, and I hit it off with a few detectives, so we went for drinks sometimes.
“One night, I met a girl in a club we’d been going to. We… hit it off and had sex a few times. She knew I wasn’t interested in anything more serious, and when I didn’t change my mind, we agreed not to see each other again.
“Problem was, I saw her again about a week later. At the precinct, with a ring on her finger. When she saw me, she freaked out a little before she took me aside to explain herself. Turns out she was married, but every time her and her husband had a fight, they broke up for a few days or weeks. I learned afterwards that it’s been going on for about three years.
“The guy had absolutely no idea that his wife was sleeping around every time they had an argument. And one day, not even two months later, after they probably fought again, she just showed up to my house, completely drunk, wearing barely any clothes.”
“Shit. What did you do?” She asks, holding her drink in front of her, turning it between her hands distractedly.
“I had no idea what to do,” I chuckle dryly. “But after trying to put her in an Uber for an hour, I just called him. I was so over this. For a full hour, I had a fucking—almost naked—Meredith, trying to grope and grind on me, when the only thing I wanted was for her to just get in the car and leave me alone. So, yeah. I took her phone and called her husband. Who was Raphael, which I only found out at that moment. As you can imagine, the conversation was mortifyingly awkward.”
She giggles softly, bringing the glass to her lips. I press on my phone, and the click of the camera is barely audible. She doesn’t notice.
“Anyway… He shows up at my doorstep with the address I gave him on the phone. And follows the most absurd conversation I ever had. She, obviously, thought this moment was appropriate to try to grope me some more, and somehow, I got punched in the jaw.”
“She yelled at him that he was a piece of shit and she’d rather have sex with the cab driver—who was still waiting upfront, by the way—than go back home with him. He then proceeded to threaten me physically for sleeping with his wife. She told him, ” I pause for effect, insisting on that information, “that I didn’t know and dumped her because he existed—which is not entirely true, as we’ve already established that it ended before I found out. But the whole thing was a shitshow. She was yelling at him, he was threatening me, and I was one dodge of his fist away from dismantling his jaw.”
She frowns. “Wow… That’s a bit much.”
“Maybe. But it was 4a.m., and I’d had enough of all of it. Plus, he got me once by surprise, so I felt like repaying the favor.”
She rolls her eyes, but still grins at the dramatic tone I use to tell her the story. I snap another picture.
“So, after an hour of them yelling at each other and either praising my bedroom skills or trying to punch my face, I managed to kick them out. But the next day, they both acted like nothing happened. And, even if they never showed their relationship in public before, they started holding hands and kissing at random in the middle of the precinct.
“Next thing I knew, some detectives started to avoid me, thinking I was after their wives too. But some others came forward, Matthew being one of them, to tell me they all had to push Meredith away at some point.”
“You’re joking,” she gapes. “How are Daisy and Meredith friends if she—”
“They were friends before,” I interrupt her, shaking my head. “And that guy is a saint. He never told Daisy, saying Meredith was drunk and probably didn’t remember, and he pushed her away anyway. He doesn’t want to cause trouble.”
“But if Raphael knew that it wasn’t just you but others, maybe he’ll… I don’t know, leave you alone?”
I shrug. “I don’t really care. It’s their problem, and I’ve made myself clear when she tried again after their divorce.”
“Oh my god… But doesn’t it bother you what they all think?”
“It doesn’t.”
“But—”
“It doesn’t , Prue. Honestly. The only opinions that matter are yours, Jack’s, Evie’s, and Ikram’s, and maybe Nuri. Sometimes.”
She gasps and leans forward to pinch my arm, laughing. I snap a picture before I grab her hand, pulling her so she falls on top of me. I’m not sure she’s still visible with the angle of the camera, but her open laugh pushes me to press the button again with my free hand anyway.
I fall backward, pulling her with me and she catches herself with her arm, planting it on the duvet next to my head.
Time stops.
She’s lying on top of me, straddling one of my legs, her hair falling around both of our heads, making the flower fall next to my ear. Her breath is short and warming my parted lips. It takes me a tremendous amount of control not to drop my gaze towards her cleavage, which I’m sure, shows what’s hiding under the playsuit. But her gaze is too intense to look away, anyway.
“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” She asks, surprising me.
“Well, it is our first date…”
“But it’s not our first moment,” she retorts, as my hands find their way to her hips, her waist.
“What do you mean?” I tease, because of course I know what moments she’s referring to. Of course I was dying to kiss her then, but I didn’t.
“I—” she starts, but stops herself, hesitating. I give her waist a little encouraging squeeze, searching her eyes. “I thought you were going to kiss me a few times. I hoped you would.”
“When?” I ask, sliding my hands down, following the curve of her hips down her thighs.
Her breath hitches when my palms leave the fabric of the playsuit to meet her soft skin. Blood rushes to her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away.
“At your house,” she murmurs.
“You were drunk. I didn’t want you to regret it.”
“At the beach.”
“Jack was not far.”
“It didn’t stop you from getting a feel of my ass,” she scoffs.
I laugh. “Yeah. That could be easily hidden as me applying sunscreen to your back or your thighs. I did enjoy it, though…”
I laugh, when she tries to push herself up with a frustrated groan, unable to as I lift my hands back up to her waist to keep her steady.
“Come on,” I urge her. “There were other times.”
She finally stops fighting my hold and releases an annoyed sigh. “At the precinct, earlier.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was kissing you for show.” Her eyes soften, and my gaze drops to her lips. “Ask about the other times I wanted to kiss you but didn’t.” I murmur.
“I—There were others?”
“So many.” She’s so close I could kiss her right now. Fuck, I want to. “That time in college, when you tripped while sliding down the stool at the coffee place while Jack was waiting for our order and getting hit on by the barista. But we’d met barely one hour before and it would have been weird. Plus, Jack would have killed me.”
“Definitely.” She giggles in a breath.
“When I wiped the graphite from your nose. That time, I was just a coward.” I close my eyes when I feel her forehead connecting with mine, the tip of her nose rubbing soft circles against my own. “At the bar, after I somehow convinced you it was a good idea to pretend we were together. Every time you and I were alone in my car. Basically, every time you’re standing less than seven feet away from me.”
She shudders under my touch, my thumbs brushing from her stomach to her sides repetitively.
“And why are you still not kissing me now?”
Yes, Nate? Why?
“I don’t want you to think that this is an elaborate plan to film porn,” I breathe out against her lips.
“I don’t.”
“You sure? Because you said—”
“Nate?”
I pause, my heart missing a couple of beats. “Yeah?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”