45. Nathan
forty-five
I had not anticipatedthat gaining a group of friends would also mean becoming involved in drama.
“Could you run the full story by me?” I ask Claire, who is curled in my lap with her back against my chest on the couch in the living room. It’s Saturday evening. After the discord at the restaurant on Thursday, she spent the next few days with Penelope. With her roommate otherwise occupied tonight, she was able to sneak away.
“Do you want the long version, or the short version?”
“Cliff notes, please.”
She sighs, and I can feel her sadness.
“He told her that he wanted her, promised her all these things, and then just stopped texting. Cut off communication. Went full ghost-mode and dropped off the face of the planet.”
“But he told her that he wanted to keep seeing her?”
“Mhm.”
“And effectively led her on?”
“Yep.” She pops the p, as if to enunciate the wrongdoing.
“I can understand now why she threw a glass of water in his face.”
Her laughter vibrates against my chest, and I hold her more tightly to me to reign in that feeling.
An unsettling murk envelops my chest, hearing even the subtext of what happened with Claire’s friends. I squeeze her tighter, tucking her head beneath my chin, and exhale at the way the grip on my heart releases with the simple contact.
“I don’t like what he did to Penelope.” It comes out in a low, raspy tone. She snuggles closer to me.
“I don’t either. I also only know her side. Did you get any dirt at the conference?”
“No. They mostly talked about coaching, teaching, and some video game.”
“Was it Call of Duty?”
“That sounds familiar.”
She chuckles. “Figures.”
We sit in silence for a while, fingers drifting over each other with aimless intent while we watch a documentary. A nagging sensation has me pressing pause, and turning Claire, rotating her in my lap so that she’s facing me. I lift her chin to direct her gaze to mine.
“I don’t like what happened with Tony and Penelope.”
She blinks, hesitating with her lips slightly parted before she whispers, “Me neither.”
“I don’t want to be unclear about my intentions with you.”
“Oh. Well…” She swallows. “What are your intentions with me?”
I hadn’t gotten that far yet. I just know that, the moment I heard about Tony leading Penelope on, my heart had gripped with an urgency I didn’t quite understand. I’m not sure what the future holds for Claire and me. I just know that the thought of her feeling as abused as Penelope has me wanting to wrap myself around her and never let her go.
I dip my head to kiss her, a sweet, chaste press of my lips to hers, and revel in the way that the simple action can make the tightness in my muscles simply unravel.
“I’d like to continue seeing you like this. More often, if that’s possible. I know how hard that can be with our current roles. I hate that it has to be that way for now, but I’d rather have you when I can than not have you at all.”
I see a hint of hesitation in her eyes, and wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. But I’ve never been in this situation—with a beautiful, poised, intelligent woman in my life, wanting me in the same ways that I want her. I’ve never been such a mixture of unsure certainty in my life. Frankly, the unknown is terrifying. Somehow, I know that if I’m doing it with her, we’ll figure things out in the end.
“Oh. Well, I’d like that too.” My heart instantly relaxes, and I exhale, my lips quirking into a small smile. “And, with break coming up, we might have some extra days together.”
My smile widens.
“Penelope is going to her mom’s for most of break,” she continues. “Are you going away for the holidays?”
“No.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue—to tell her that Cal doesn’t want to come home.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that for the first time, I’m not racing off at the sound of the school bell to be at my brother’s beck and call.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her the rest of my story.
Instead, I leave it at that. A simple no instead of spilling my heart and soul to the one person I believe I can trust it with.
“Then it looks like you and I have a date.”
Date.
The word ping pongs lazily between my ears as we watch the rest of the documentary. I’ve never dated—not in the typical sense. I’ve never been interested in putting myself first, and dating sounds like doing exactly that.
But dating also sounds a lot like putting Claire first. My heart can’t fathom being number one, but I’d put myself at number two if it meant giving her that first spot.