Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Nate
So it turns out Oxford has a college for just about everything, and one of those has a department of statistics, which is handy .
I guess it makes sense, since apparently it’s the second oldest university in the world.
That’s just one of the facts I’ve learned about this place in the last month.
It was surprisingly easy to apply and get an acceptance letter for the masters in statistical science. Of course, it was also a surprise when, feeling like an idiot, I emailed some of my MBA professors asking for recommendation letters, and they not only answered but they gave me glowing praise.
I expected to be ignored at best, and more realistically to be laughed at, but apparently all of them understood that my behavior in class and around campus at Columbia wasn’t a reflection on my intelligence.
I knew I’d gotten good grades of course, but I’d never expected the professors to know about them—that’s what their TAs are for—so that was a very nice surprise indeed.
Now, though, standing on a perfectly groomed lawn in front of the building, I feel like maybe I might be in a bit over my head.
I mean, this place looks fucking fancy.
And I know fancy.
Trust fund baby, born with a silver spoon in my mouth and another up my ass, and all of that, right?
But this...
The only word I can think of to describe it is monumental .
And I guess it is a monument, isn’t it?
“Are you lost?” A perky voice comes from next to me, and I turn to see a short-ish guy who... well, he looks like a nerd. Big square glasses, unruly dirty-blond hair, and big brown eyes. He’s even wearing a button-down shirt with a bow tie. He’s the picture of nerdiness.
But this place is supposed to be full of nerds, isn’t it?
And that’s a good thing, so I better get used to it.
I’m supposed to be a nerd. I kinda am. I’m here early for a mathematics summer camp for crying out loud.
He’s talking again before I can introduce myself or answer his question, though, and his British accent is kind of adorable and somehow very different to Ru’s.
“Lots of new students get lost here. I grew up close by and I still get lost, so it’s okay. I’m not judging you. And I can help,” he adds with a little yell.
I can’t help but smile at him.
“You’re weird. I like it.”
“That’s great,” he exclaims, not looking offended at all. “You’re now my friend then.”
I chuckle. “I’m Nate Waterford, and before we can be friends I gotta know if you have a lame name.”
“Hah.” He throws his head back, which is a bit much, but I don’t mind it. “I’m Noah Ellington, so kind of similar.”
“It’s a cool name,” I say, and add a mock-serious nod. Then I offer him my hand to shake, which he does.
It’s a good handshake. Firm but not strong. Confident.
This guy really is cool.
A cool nerd.
“So, you lost, new friend Nate?”
“You’re right that I’m new, and I wanna know how you clocked that before talking to me, but I was just admiring this place,” I tell him honestly. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of help finding the statistics department if you have some time, though.”
“I’m just leaving a meeting with my advisor, so I do have time, and that department isn’t far.”
“Great. Lead the way, and tell me your life story while you do,” I tell him, bowing exaggeratedly for him to walk in front of me.
He snorts. “You’re weird too,” he points out.
“I guess I am. I’m trying out this new thing now that I’ve moved almost halfway around the world.”
“What thing?”
“I want to care less about being cool and just focus on doing and saying what feels right for me.”
“That’s a very important task you have ahead of you. I like it.”
I smile as he immediately launches into an explanation of the building we’re passing—what’s in it, what it was fifty years ago, what it was a couple of hundred years ago, and on and on it goes.
I’m pretty sure I won’t retain half of what he’s saying, but I enjoy his company, and when he stops in front of two glass doors that read Department of Statistics, I suddenly feel sad that our time together is over.
But again, he surprises me.
“You’re nice, and I meant it about being friends. So do you want me to show you the best spot for lunch around here?”
“Really?” I wasn’t expecting that at all. “Yeah, I?—”
“You should just go in and get all your stuff sorted. I’ll wait out here.” He points to a wooden bench that looks old old, then quickly looks back at me. “When you’re done I’m taking you to lunch. But maybe you won’t—wait, where are you from?”
It takes me a second to catch up, but when I do, I have an amused smirk firmly on my face, and I bet it won’t leave as long as I’m in Noah’s presence.
“I’m from New York.”
“City? Because that’s a big state. Everything’s big over there, isn’t it? I always wondered?—”
“Yes, New York City,” I interrupt before he can go off on a tangent in this hallway. I’ll happily listen to that tangent later, though. I’m curious now.
“Right, they have lots of different cuisines there, don’t they? You’ll be fine today, then.” Then he pushes my shoulder slightly. “Go on, then. In you go. I’ll be right here.”
Shaking my head, I do as he says.
I have a new friend.
* * *
“Oh, man. I love Indian food,” I groan, when Noah splays his arms in front of the little awning of the restaurant.
“Good, then we really can be friends.”
“Nah, the real decider will be how much heat you can handle.”
He sighs heavily and drops his head back, looking up at the sky as if asking for mercy.
“You’re one of those macho men who need to prove they’re tougher than anyone else, aren’t you?”
I’d be worried about the tone if I couldn’t clearly see the smirk he’s trying desperately to suppress.
“I am,” I say, not not proudly.
“Good,” he smiles sneakily. “I am too. So you’re on. Come on now.”
He opens the door for me and I relish the smells as soon as I step in. I’m wondering what I’m going to get and inspecting the tables while we wait by the host’s stand, when my eyes land on him and everything stops.
My feet are moving before I can even think about it.
“Ru,” I shout, probably louder than is necessary or appropriate, but I can’t control myself. I don’t want to control myself.
If I do, then I might screw things up again, and I don’t want that.
I want him to know the truth. I want him to know me .
“Wha—” is all he gets out before his mouth clams shut.
“God, I never thought I’d find you on my first day here.”
“Find me?” he demands, clearly not as happy as I am.
“Yes, of course I wanted to find you. I want to explain. I just moved here and finding you is the most important reason?—”
“No,” he says loudly, and starts shaking his head. “No, no, no. Nope. This is not?—”
“Why’d you run, mate?” Noah asks from behind me, and what I see in Ru’s eyes has the hurt and disappointment evaporating. He looks jealous.
Soooooooo jealou?—
And that’s when I finally see the guy who’s sitting opposite the chair Ru was in just a minute ago.
The gorgeous guy.
Shit.
Fucking dammit.
He’s on a date, and he’s over me. Clearly hasn’t been pining like I was since that night on the yacht .
The memory makes me take a deep breath.
I remember what happened the last time I showed Ru my jealous side.
It all blew the fuck up and I couldn’t apologize after.
And of course there was the awesome hand job, but that’s not the point.
The point is I have to fucking chill .
“Seriously, are you alright?” Noah asks and touches my shoulder lightly.
I peel my eyes away from the deep dark abyss of the handsome stranger who’s eating with my Ru and look at my friend.
“Yes. Sorry for running off. I just, uh—” I stop myself, my confidence completely gone, and without a clue of what I’m supposed to say now to make sure this isn’t the last time I see Ru. “I recognized Ru and got excited, I guess.” My voice is a lot more subdued now, but at least I’m still being honest. At least I’m still keeping my promise to myself to be myself.
“You wanna join us?” the gorgeous guy asks.
“We’d love to,” Noah agrees, his smile not dimmed in the slightest. “I’m Noah,” he says, and offers the dude his hand while he’s taking a seat next to him.
“Carter,” gorgeous guy—Carter, I guess—says, and shakes his hand with a gorgeous smile, showing off his gorgeous teeth, his gorgeous fucking eyes sparkling.
I shuffle to the other side of the table and sit in the last free chair.
“And you are?” Carter asks, aiming all that perfection my way. It doesn’t have an effect on me. Not at all.
“Nate Waterford,” I say quietly.
“You happen to know Chelsea Waterford?” he asks with a— fucking hell —cute tilt to his head.
Of course he has to be cute on top of gorgeous.
“She’s my sister,” I say in a measured tone. “How do you know her?” It only hits me after a long moment that this is weird. How does he know my sister?
“She’s a big client at the gallery I work at,” he says with that smile intact on his face.
“You work in New York?” I demand, probably harsher than what’s called for.
“Yeah, have for about five years now. I live there too,” he teases, and I don’t like it.
It’s disarming, and that’s the opposite of what I need right now.
“So what brings you back home?” Noah asks Carter brightly, but he’s reaching for the menu as he does.
“That’s really none of your?—”
“It’s fine, Ru,” Carter cuts him off, and I like that even less. He turns to Noah with a clearly forced smile and fucking destroys all my walls. “I’m here to empty out and sell my parents’ home. They passed eight years ago and it’s long past time I get to it. Good thing I came today too, ’cause Ru here was passing by after visiting with his father and I got to reconnect with an old friend.”
“Oh my God,” Noah says, clearly distressed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive, I just?—”
“You couldn’t have known. No worries, mate.” Carter smiles kindly at him and I just... can’t hate the guy. There’s just no way. “So, what’s your life’s story, Noah?” Carter asks and steers the conversation along.
He sends Ru a pointed look even as he pays close attention to everything coming out of Noah’s mouth, and I decide that Carter’s gonna be the second friend I make in Oxford.
Ru and I are mostly silent throughout the meal, Noah’s and my spice competition forgotten, and we pay attention to our friends, laughing at the appropriate moments. Carter does his best to get us talking too, but all he manages to get out of me is that I’m here for my masters before I realize I have no clue whether saying anything about our time in Australia is something Ru would want.
And he stays silent and stoic the whole time. There’s no real way of knowing what’s going on in Ru’s head.
Fuck, he has to think I’m a stalker, right?
I can’t let him think that.
And since I don’t intend to make this our last meeting, I just go for it as soon as I’ve paid the bill—something only Carter protested about.
“Ru, can I please get your number?” I plead without shame even before we stand.
“I don’t?—”
“Just your number,” I interrupt, and don’t even care that it sounds like I’m begging, because I am. “I want a chance to apologize. For real this time.” I look him straight in the eyes while I make my case so he can see the truth in them. “Please just give me your number. Let me try to convince you to go out on a date with me.”
The way he winces and looks around as if everyone in the restaurant is listening in tells me all I need to know.
He’s not out, and that’s something I’ll have to live with.
Something I’m pretty sure I can live with.
“Come on, Ru. Just give the poor guy your number,” Carter pipes in, and though I don’t appreciate his tone, I am thankful for his words when Ru sighs like a man defeated.
Then he gives me his number.
And that’s the only thread of hope I needed.