Boyfriend of the Hour

15. Reasons I’ve Never Had a Real Boyfriend

FIFTEEN

#1 Shawn Vamos. Thats probly it.

The next morning, just before noon, I stumbled out of my room in search of coffee, where I found Nathan looking equally sleepy as he made himself an espresso, though he had clearly already been to the gym.

We hadn’t talked much after Shawn finally left. Nathan had sat quietly at the end of the bar while I made excuses not to hang with him there. For once, I was a model employee, doing everything I could to help Tom finish last call and clean up. We even managed to close up fifteen minutes earlier than usual.

Nathan had stayed to walk me home, and even then, he didn’t ask any questions about Shawn or demand further explanation. I didn’t offer any either. We were both tired, I said. We needed some sleep.

Now, though, I didn’t have sleep to fall back on. And the minute Nathan saw me walk into the kitchen, I knew he wasn’t going to take any other excuses to avoid this conversation either.

Fantastic.

“Here,” he said, handing me the cappuccino he’d just made for himself. “I’ll make another. And after, we should talk.”

There wasn’t much more I could say to that.

Ten minutes later, we were both sitting in the living room, facing the Degas painting, while one of us got up the nerve to speak first.

“All right,” Nathan said, finally. “It’s not really any of my business if you have a boyfriend. But I do feel misled, given the agreement we came to. It doesn’t seem appropriate for you to act as my significant other if you’re already involved with someone else.”

“I’m not involved with Shawn anymore,” I said as I folded my legs underneath me. I was still in my pajama shorts, but the throw blanket was on the other side of the couch.

“That’s not what you said last night.” Nathan’s eyes sharpened as he reached over and handed me the blanket. Without me asking.

I bit my lip but took it gratefully. He really was too good for me.

“That was…habit, I guess,” I said. “It’s what he expected to hear, and when it comes to him, it’s easier just to give him what he expects sometimes. He never liked it when I called him my boyfriend, but he didn’t not like it either. You know?”

“No, I don’t know.” He frowned. “So, he’s your boyfriend that you’re not involved with? Or you are, and he isn’t? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I mumbled, staring at the silky foam atop my cup. Nathan had made the shape of a leaf with it.

“I just want the truth. Whatever it is.”

I took a long drink of my coffee. It was perfect. Just like him. And very not like me.

“You want the truth?” I sighed. “The truth is, I’m a mess. But you already knew that.”

Nathan only blinked. Waited in his patient way. The one where I couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking, but somehow, I knew he wasn’t judging me.

I wasn’t sure how that was possible.

“Shawn isn’t my boyfriend.”

“But you said he was.”

I sighed. “He—I guess he always sort of is, but only because he won’t let me break up with him completely. I hadn’t seen him in more than four months, but that’s not unusual. I was hoping he wouldn’t show up this time, but I’m not that lucky. He’s just a bad penny. A really bad penny.”

Nathan sat back into the couch. “Explain.”

I pulled the blanket up to my chest, wondering how in the hell I could put the tale of Shawn Vamos together. It wasn’t a story I’d ever told to completion. Rochelle knew a little, considering she was there when we met. Marie figured out bits and pieces when he picked me up from school once, but she never pressed me for more than I wanted to share. The rest of my siblings, or even Nonna, were completely oblivious to his existence.

Because that’s the way he wanted it. Said our relationship was just for us.

And like a fool, I’d believed him.

“We met about ten years ago. No, wait, almost eleven. Jeez, I’m getting old.”

Nathan gave me the same look I sometimes got from my older sisters when I made similar comments.

I chuckled. “Okay, maybe not. Anyway, he saw me dancing once. I was in this troupe that did a performance at a mall in New Jersey. Kind of lame, I know, but I was the lead soloist. Shawn was there and came up to me afterward. And he was nice. Hot, for an older guy. Well, to me, he was older. Twenty-two at the time, I think. Maybe twenty-three. I thought he looked like one of the guys from One Direction.”

I could imagine it like it had happened yesterday. Shawn was a boy band lookalike with arms covered in tattoos, holding a bag from the Gucci store in one hand while the other was wrapped around a gorgeous-looking blond girl. I was waiting in line to be shuttled back to the bus with the rest of the girls in my troupe. Even now, I remembered seeing that hand on the woman’s waist and wondering when I’d ever find a boy who would touch me like that. I’d never even had a boyfriend. Had gotten my braces off maybe two months earlier.

Shawn had sent the woman on her way and beckoned me over to talk to him. As if in a trance, I’d followed. We spoke just long enough for me to tell him my name and where we were from before my teacher had called me back.

He’d smiled with blue eyes the color of the ocean and said goodbye.

I expected…well, I don’t know what I expected to see on Nathan’s face as I described it. Disgust? Horror? If he and I went on a date, no one would blink an eye at the age difference between us. There weren’t even ten between Shawn and me, but when the younger person is only thirteen and the other one is in his twenties, people are going to talk. And judge. A lot.

I certainly would.

Nathan, however, didn’t change his expression. He just sipped his coffee and listened.

“It wasn’t anything. Just a chat. But then he started coming to the studio every now and then. Happened to run into me on the street. Said hello. Kept coming back.” I shrugged. “It was all harmless. And I guess I developed kind of a crush.”

It was so odd to remember. I was at that weird age where my body looked almost like an adult’s, but my brain was more like a child’s. All my siblings were growing up, and I was sure I was right there with them, so when this nice older guy that looked kind of like Zayn Malik was paying me all sorts of attention and compliments and talking to me like an adult, I thought that proved my point. It was innocent. And it felt good.

So I never thought anything of it when he started bringing me presents too. Little things, like a flower from the bodega. A cheap necklace from Forever 21. Nothing big. Nothing crazy. Just things he said made him think of me.

No one had ever done that for me. Half the time, even my Christmas gifts were hand-me-downs originally bought with someone else in mind.

So, yeah. I developed a crush. A big one.

“Then things started to get really bad at home,” I said as I hugged a pillow to my chest. “Mostly because of school. Everyone else in my family is smart, see. Really smart. My brother is a freaking lawyer. Lea got a degree, too, before she had kids. Kate did fashion school and built her own business, Frankie was valedictorian, and Marie was already becoming this brilliant chef. And then there was me. Flunking out of ninth grade. Nonna was so mad. She said my grandfather was rolling in his grave right alongside my dad, and that they would both be so ashamed of me. That she was ashamed of me.”

For the first time, Nathan’s brow furrowed. “I understand that feeling.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I bet your family’s really ashamed that you became a surgeon. Real stain on their legacy.”

Nathan’s big shoulders just rose and fell. “It wasn’t the path they planned for me. Among other things.”

His brown eyes met mine, and I saw truth there. A pain that mirrored mine. I didn’t know how or why, but somewhere along the line, Nathan Hunt had experienced the same kind of berating, shaming, and humiliation from his family that I had.

Just the idea made me rage inside.

“So, what happened with him after that?” he asked, pulling me out of my anger on his behalf. “How did it become…more?”

I cleared my throat and released the pillow I only just realized I’d been squeezing half to death. “Oh, well. About what you’d expect. I was angry with my family. And sad. And Shawn was…there. He started picking me up and taking me to dinner. Helping me with my homework when I needed it. Making sure I got to and from dance class. Just, you know, taking care of me. He made me feel like it was just us against the world, and I believed him. And when he finally kissed me, I felt like the luckiest girl on the planet, you know? I would have done about anything for him at that point.”

And I had, but I wasn’t about to describe all of that to Nathan. How Shawn had confessed his feelings to me as if he had some terrible disease, and only I could provide the cure. Convinced me that we needed to stay a secret, that we were soulmates who just needed more time.

I lost my virginity four months before I turned fifteen.

I thought I was in love.

Because I thought I was his.

But when you don’t have anyone to talk to about these things, you also don’t have anyone to tell you you’re being an idiot. So, I also didn’t have anyone to tell me that the inevitable was going to happen. That Shawn would tire of me and become alternately distant and controlling. That I’d never be able to reach him—only he could reach me. That I’d live for the days when I’d spot his red Mercedes turning the corner by the dance studio, knowing he’d take me for dinner like a grownup, then to motels that eventually grew less and less pretty as the years went by. That some days, I’d feel like the center of his world, and others, I’d feel like he kicked me out of it.

That I’d never be his girlfriend. Never be anything real.

But that every time I’d try to break it off, he’d worm his way back in all over again until I’d give in.

“It went on like that until I finally graduated high school,” I said. “Then he sort of lost interest for months at a time. I knew he was always seeing other people. He said we defied labels.”

I could hear myself practically parroting the same line Shawn had fed me last night, like I was still that idiot teenager. He still looked almost the same. And I had felt the same. The second he walked into the bar, every bit of lightness I’d felt had vanished, swallowed by that dark shadow of inevitability.

“But even then, he’d always come back. But by then, even though I didn’t want him to, it was just easier to wait until he was bored again. Shawn gets angry when he’s rejected, and he knows things. An angry Shawn is a scary Shawn. And I don’t ever want anyone else to know about him, Nathan. No one.”

The unspoken question, of course, was why I had told him then.

Because I had to.

Because I could.

Because, somehow, Nathan was still looking at me like he always had, without judgment or contempt. Like I just was.

“So, let me paraphrase,” he said once it was apparent I was done talking. “When you were thirteen, a twenty-two-year-old man started grooming you?—”

“Dude, I’m not a dog,” I cut in. “He wasn’t grooming me.”

“It’s just the term for when an adult manipulates a child into an inappropriate relationship,” Nathan explained quietly. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

I took another long drink of coffee. I knew that. I’d just…never wanted to say it out loud.

“He started a relationship with you,” Nathan rephrased, then looked up as if to say, Is that better?

I nodded shortly. He went on.

“He made you dependent on him, built an attachment, cultivated a sexual relationship with a minor?—”

“It wasn’t illegal,” I muttered. This right here was why I never told anyone this story. “The age of consent in New York was fourteen until a few years ago.” When Nathan’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, I shook my head. “Don’t ask me how I know that.”

Undoubtedly, he already did. Because Shawn had known. Had explained it thoroughly the one time I questioned whether or not someone his age should be kissing someone as young as me.

“That was for marriage, not sexual activity, which has always been seventeen,” Nathan said just as quietly. His eyes flashed again. “It made the news when it was finally changed.”

My voice caught as I realized I had been fooled by yet another one of Shawn’s lies.

He’d said it was fine. That no one could get into any trouble.

I’d believed him. But I’d known no one else would think so.

“I’m not fourteen now,” I said in a way that I somewhat sounded like it. “Or seventeen.”

The flash in Nathan’s eyes softened. “No,” he said in a voice that was slightly husky. “You are an adult woman capable of full consent.”

I nodded. “Yes, I am.”

There was an awkward silence as we stared at each other across the room. I was suddenly aware that I hadn’t bothered to put on a bra this morning when I’d woken up and that this T-shirt was very thin. Almost as thin as Nathan’s, which was doing nothing to hide the shape of his muscles he worked so hard at the gym to maintain.

Grown woman meets grown man.

Nothing illicit at all.

Yet something that I had no business thinking about.

Nathan cleared his throat. “So, what happened since? You got back together at some point?”

I shrugged. “Yes and no. Whenever he’s lonely, he sniffs around looking for company, and I’ve been a safe bet for years.”

Nathan looked confused. “Is that what you want?” How could I explain this the right way? The answer was generally no, although sometimes it was easier to say yes.

And then there is the other reason. The reason I wasn’t even going to mention, much less think about.

“Like I said, it’s easier just to give him what he wants,” I said simply. “He’s like an ant infestation. He’ll just keep showing up until he finds a better source of sugar.”

“And why do you let him? Ants can be exterminated.”

Yeah, I wasn’t going to tell him that. I wasn’t ever going to tell him, or anyone, that. “Because it’s not worth the fight, that’s why. Shawn’s a baby. I can handle him.”

Nathan was quiet for a long minute. A thick silence filled the room, and I found myself looking around at all the things my sisters had noticed. The custom curtains. The plush furniture. The painting on the wall of the dancer.

She was by herself, stretching on the floor. She looked focused as she reached toward her toes.

But also lonely. As lonely as I felt whenever I thought about Shawn. My family. The whole stupid story of my life, empty of accomplishment.

God, what I wouldn’t give to be her again, with something, anything, to focus on. That familiar space with the springy wood floor, where I’d been able to release all the noise in my head without thinking. The only place I’d ever felt free. And purely myself.

“But what do you want?” Nathan asked, almost like he was reading my mind.

I looked up, yanked out of my thoughts. “I used to want a lot of things.”

“I mean with him. Shawn. There’s history there. Do you want there to be more?”

“Oh.” I played with the ends of my hair. “If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind never seeing him again. Shawn never brings anything but trouble. But I doubt that anything less than me walking down the aisle with another man would put him off.”

“Really?” It was meant to be a joke, but Nathan seemed to take the idea seriously.

“Dude, no,” I said. “I mean, yeah, probably, since he’s about as commitment phobic as it gets. But no. I don’t need to get freaking married for him to leave me alone. Probably just be in a real relationship. Preferably with someone who could beat him up. He can throw a punch, but he doesn’t have a lot of muscle.”

Just the idea felt like a bad trip. Even more when the image of Nathan in a tux standing next to me in a veil popped into my head for absolutely no reason.

My stomach did a somersault.

God, what was wrong with me?

“But has he ever seen you in a serious relationship?” Nathan pressed.

I snorted. “I’d have to have had a serious relationship for that to happen.”

I should have been able to say yes. Because I knew how lame it was, that at twenty-four, I’d never had a relationship last more than a few weeks. “Joni’s Boyfriend of the Hour,” like Lea had said too many times to count. She also liked to sing that old song “Maneater” whenever I had a date.

It was supposed to be funny, and maybe it was. But deep down, I wondered if they were right.

And then I wondered if the real reason none of my relationships seemed to last was because of one core reality: I just wasn’t worth it.

Nathan looked thoughtful. I fought the urge to bury my head in the couch cushions. Instead, I sat up straight, remembering the posture lessons that Mrs. Suarez had practically beaten into me.

That made me feel a little better. Dancers don’t shrink. They stand tall and hold their bodies with inner strength.

Even when shit gets really hard.

Maybe I wasn’t a dancer anymore, but at least I could do that.

“I think maybe the charade we agreed to might benefit us both,” Nathan said finally.

I frowned. “How do you figure?”

He sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the arm. “I think we should just pretend to be in a relationship…all the time…starting now. You’ll come with me to work and family events. Be my date to things and, ah, ‘coach’ me, like we discussed. I’ll pick you up from your shifts at the bar, accompany you wherever else you need, and help you earn some respect from your family and put off this…predatory person in your life.” He tipped his head in that way I’d come to recognize. It meant he was feeling amused. Maybe a little mischievous. “Do I look like someone who could beat him up?”

I worked a corner of a throw pillow between my fingers. It sounded good. Maybe too good. A gorgeous apartment and stupid hot “boyfriend” falling into my lap just when I was hitting rock bottom.

There had to be a catch.

“I don’t understand why you would do all of this for me,” I said.

He tilted his head, causing a mussed curl to fall over his brow. “It’s not just for you. It’s for me too. We discussed this.”

“Yeah, but I’m a legit mess, as we’ve also discussed. You have way more to offer. I know you said you have that social disorder thing?—”

“Social pragmatic processing disorder,” he corrected me gently.

“That, yeah. But to me, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. I don’t for one minute believe that you couldn’t get a girlfriend—a real one—like that.” I snapped my fingers to demonstrate.

Nathan didn’t argue with me. Which told me I was right. I could easily imagine it—women falling all over themselves to give the hot doctor their numbers. His own patients probably came onto him at all hours of the night.

Messing around with me was a waste of his time. We both knew it.

“Maybe I just like you better than most people,” he said. “Have you considered that?”

I laughed. “Come on. I’m not that dumb fourteen-year-old anymore.”

At that, he looked visibly angry for the first time. The hard glare in his eye shut me up immediately. All irreverence ran right out the front door.

“Do not compare me to that piece of shit, Joni,” he said through clenched teeth. “If you think I’m no better than a pedophile who preys on innocent young girls, then you’re right. This isn’t going to work at all.”

My mouth fell open. I was about to argue with his description of Shawn but found I couldn’t. For the first time in my life, disgust slid down my back like a snake when I thought of him. Thought of me. Thought of how young I was when I gave him so much of myself.

And thought of how impossible it would be to get any of that back.

“Okay,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think that of you at all. I think you’re…I actually think you’re amazing if you want to know the truth. I wasn’t lying when I said all those nice things about you to my sisters. I meant them.”

We stared at each other for a long time as the sharp edge in the room faded away, leaving just the two of us, and the fact that we both seemed to, frankly, just really like each other to sink in.

Maybe it really was as simple as that. Nathan liked and respected me, and I felt the same about him. I didn’t know why that was such a rare combination, but apparently it was. For both of us.

“You were too young,” Nathan said in a softer tone now. “I don’t know you all that well, but I know that. Just like I know that right now, you deserve a lot more than the way people in your life seem to treat you. But you’re smart and kind, and you’re my friend. You need some help. We both do. I’m open to trying if you are.”

I blinked. I honestly wasn’t sure what to do with this. An honest exchange. How novel.

“Speaking of, that dinner with my colleagues is next week,” Nathan said. “We should probably buy you something to wear to that too.”

I looked down at my clothes, which currently consisted of one of Matthew’s old Marines T-shirts over a pair of threadbare striped pajama shorts. “This isn’t it, but I do have nice enough things for dinner. You’ve seen my other stuff.”

Nathan shifted in his seat. “Transparent lace is fine for a bar, but you can’t show up to dinners with my partners in a see-through shirt. I don’t personally care what you wear?—”

“Except for my shoes,” I put in playfully.

That earned me a small smile. “Except your shoes that don’t provide you any arch support, yeah. But the rest…” He waved a hand around. “It’s just about meeting social expectations of particular class environments. Most people are shallow enough that things like clothes and appearance trigger certain prejudices. Ones you don’t deserve.”

“I thought you weren’t good at social stuff,” I said.

I was joking again, but the comment cast a shadow across Nathan’s face.

“People who are raised by Lillian and Radford Hunt are acutely aware of class-based social mores such as wardrobe and table manners,” he informed me. “My brothers and I suffered through years of those ‘lessons’ together.”

It was one of the few pieces of information he’d offered about his life outside of New York. I wanted to know more. I’d spilled my guts to him—now I wanted Nathan’s stories. I wanted all of them.

But before I could ask for any, Nathan checked his watch and swore under his breath. “Shit. I’m late for clinic. But I’ll be back at five. That should give us a few hours to shop.”

And before I could answer, he stood up, ready to go to his room and change, I supposed.

“Wait,” I called as I followed him into the hall.

He turned, one hand shoved impatiently into his curls. I found myself wishing I could replace it with mine. They looked so soft. So inviting.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is there something else you need?”

Wordlessly, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Just to say thank you. For everything you’re doing, Nathan, really. I don’t know where I’d be right now if you hadn’t dropped into my life like some kind of guardian angel. I’ll pay you back one day. I promise.”

His big, warm body stiffened under my grasp, though he didn’t move away.

“Nathan,” I said into his chest. “This is a hug. When you receive one, you’re supposed to give one back.”

His hands landed awkwardly on my hips. “But no one is here right now. Here, we’re just friends. Roommates.”

I wished the uncertainty in his voice didn’t make me feel so…hopeful.

“Friends hug,” I told him. “Roommates can too. And boyfriends definitely hug. Like all the time.”

“Is that right?”

I looked up to find him smirking down at me. It was fucking adorable.

“Yes, it is.” I pulled him closer, telling myself it wasn’t because his body, safe and secure, made me also feel safe and secure. “And they don’t let go until their girlfriends do. Ever.”

This was a lesson. Nothing more.

Nathan’s hands squeezed my waist, then slipped around on either side so he could wrap his arms fully around me, holding me tightly enough that almost every part of our bodies met, separated by only a few thin layers of clothing.

“Is this all right?” he murmured into my hair, which he stroked gently with one hand. “Not too tight?”

I buried my face into his neck, inhaled his clean, sleepy scent, and sighed, suddenly as content as I’d ever been in my life. “It’s perfect.”

It wasn’t until much later that it occurred to me, I wasn’t just talking about the hug.