19. Rosy
NINETEEN
ROSY
The water cascading around me starts to cool, pulling me from my mind. Shaking out of my lost thoughts, I tug my hand back from touching my lips…again.
I swear I can still feel his pressed against mine.
Fumbling with a towel, I quickly dry off and head back into my room to socialise with Moshi for a bit.
My thoughts remain distracted, feeling excited anticipation about spending time with them. It’s been a few days since I was at their place for dinner, and I’ve found it’s been lonelier than I expected without their company. They’ve all kept in contact, which is surprisingly sweet.
Nate’s daily messages have had me smiling each morning and night, which feels weird in itself. I’ve never been a morning person, too exhausted and drained to have the energy for anything more than forcing my body through the motions. But his messages inject a giddy energy into me that’s addictive.
Bry has been sending me different recipe ideas he thinks I might like, and pics of the daily dishes he’s made. It’s obvious the care and pride he takes in it, and it’s infectious. Everything he makes has this pride surging through me too.
I’ve been excited since Noah messaged, sending me a link to a book he thought we should buddy read.
Before I could get worried about finding the time to read it, he also sent me the link to the audio version.
He’s so steadfast and quiet, not in a shy way but in a more observant kind of quiet.
I’m hoping that having the book for us to work through together will help me get to know him more.
Each piece of information I learn about him feels special; or maybe it’s the way he looks at me that makes me feel that way.
My phone vibrates, and I roll my eyes, already knowing who it will be.
SunshineMax
Where you at, Princess Peachikins? I’m hungry. Bry won’t let me eat anything until you get here. I swear he’s a closet sadist.
It’s like he knew my mind strayed to the others, and he refused to let me forget him. I don’t think I could even if I tried.
I swear he tries to come up with the worst pet names he can think of, but secretly, I’d be disappointed if he stopped.
Me
I died and have been reincarnated into a mayfly with only minutes left to live. I won't be able to make it in time…you’ll have to go on without me.
An indelicate snort bursts from me at my response. I’d never have considered sending something so weirdly silly to someone before, but it’s automatic with Max. He embraces and matches the ridiculousness; it’s refreshing.
Keeping a hold of the floaty feeling of embracing myself, I grab another treat from the bag on my lap and slowly extend it to Moshi.
“Okay, last one, then I have to go. You’ve had me distracted for longer than planned with that cute face of yours,” I tell him, watching as he locks onto the tasty snack in my fingers.
It took a little time, but after throwing a few treats within reach, I then started shortening the distance and watched him creep forward with each one.
The last one he suspiciously took directly from my hand, and now he’s inching closer again.
Neck outstretched slowly, he takes it, then crunches loudly on it. A faint purr softly emanates from his furry body.
Blinking back the emotion, I whisper praise to him.
Not wanting to cause any panic, I carefully roll onto my knees and stand, checking he’s all set for a couple of hours before heading out the empty flat and knocking on the guys’ door.
It opens with a flourish. Max drops to his knees in front of me and grabs my hands. “I thought you’d perished.” He gasps, doing a terrible job of feigning upset when there’s an impish grin on his face. “Praise all the pizza gods that you weren’t taken from us.”
Laughter bubbles up, escaping my lips in peals of giggles, and I can’t stop the tears that cascade down my cheeks.
It’s not the welcome I’d expected, but I’m slowly learning to never be surprised by Max.
Noah steps around the still-kneeling Max and takes my hand in his, guiding me into their home. The laughter slowly peters out as he turns me into the living room area and stops us by the coffee table. He reaches down and plucks a tissue from the box.
“May I?” His words are soft, but a smile tilts his lips, revealing a slight crease on either side of his mouth.
A very bite-able mouth.
A mouth that also said words I’ve forgotten, so I nod mutely, unsure what I’ve agreed to.
His eyes light up at my response, and he steps in close, so close that his scent caresses my senses. It’s warming and a little spicy, like spiced red wine that tastes sweet and decadent as it curls down your throat, settling into your gut like a heated blanket.
He uses the tissue to gently wipe away the tear tracks from my cheeks, then blots at the tears still lining my lashes, threatening to escape. The moment feels strangely intimate, having him take the care to wipe away my tears, even if they were from laughter and not sorrow.
“There, all done.” His words are low, and they whisper across my lips as he does one last wipe that has a fingertip barely brushing against my skin. Stepping back, he pockets the tissue. “Can I make you a tea?”
“Yes?” Blinking against the abrupt change, I quickly say, “I mean, yes, I’d love one. As long as it’s decaf. Surprise me?”
Offering a quick wink, he brushes past and into the kitchen. A moment later, warmth tingles up my spine, and my body tenses as a lick of anticipation unfurls in my stomach.
“Hi, Nate,” I whisper, hoping I’m right and not just talking out loud to myself.
A thick finger traces a path from my neck, down my shoulder and arm, to stop at my hand. Clasping it, he tugs me around to face him, and my head tips back to look up at him.
Whatever words he was about to say disappear from his lips, and a frown wrinkles harshly between his brows. “Why were you crying?”
Calloused hands frame my cheeks, and he tips my face from side to side as if trying to find a traitorous tear left behind that he can growl at.
“They were happy tears,” I promise, trying to hide a smile from breaking free at his sweetness. “Max made me laugh too hard when I first arrived, but Noah mopped them all up for me; so I’m all good.”
He grunts once, in what I assume is acceptance of my explanation—but who knows with this gruff bear?
—then places a fleeting kiss on my lips.
Turning, he clasps my hand in his and guides us into the kitchen area, pulling out a stool for me to sit on before standing behind me.
His chest brushes against my back, maintaining contact between us.
“Hey, Bry,” I call out at his back. The muscles under his T-shirt flex with his every movement as he grabs different pans and utensils. “Thank you for having me over. It smells unbelievable.”
He turns to face me, and I’m hit with a smile so genuine it feels almost indulgent to allow myself to revel in its warmth.
“I’m excited for you to try it. I wasn’t able to decide which to make out of the options I sent you, so I did all three.” He grins and shrugs, as if cooking three different curries isn’t impressive.
If I managed to make one, I would be ecstatic with myself. There would be whooping, applause, and maybe some praise too.
“I’ll make sure I try a bit of everything, then,” I declare, hoping I have room to eat it all so I don’t let his efforts don’t go to waste.
Max flops onto the stool beside me and rests his head on the counter. “My stomach’s betraying me and eating me from the inside,” he groans.
Biting my lip to stop the laughter, I rub a trail up and down his back in sympathy. I try hard to ignore the feel of his taut muscles beneath my touch, I really do.
But they’re so…solid.
Nate’s hands fall to my waist, and I yank my hand back from his friend's back, tension thrumming through me.
Did I fuck up by touching Max?
My feelings for him are too jumbled to know if I was being friendly or crossed a line into “more than friends” territory.
If I’m honest, my feelings for all of them are just as messy.
It’s selfish to want them—all of them.
Is something broken inside me, that I need not one boyfriend but multiple to be satisfied? I mentally scoff at the label. I don’t even have one boyfriend, so forget wanting more.
But what will they all think if they knew I liked them?
Nate seems interested; he’s kissed me multiple times…but can I continue growing a relationship with him when I feel something for the others?
It might just be a fleeting interest, though. It will fade.
It has to.
That thought should reassure me; instead there’s a sense of loss, even though we don’t have anything to begin with.
Argh, messy thoughts.
The world spins, and suddenly I’m facing Nate.
Nate and his narrowed intensity and pursed lips. He’d be frightening if I didn’t recognise by now that it’s worry for me.
“Are they busy? What do you need?” His hand strokes my forehead, indicating my thoughts, and my heart clenches so hard it takes a second to remember how to breathe…because he remembered.
Indecision floods me, because I’m unused to relying on someone. I could lean on Nanna for some things, and I can even talk about parts of me to Steph. But I’ve always held back, because in the moments I’ve tried to let someone in, they just seem to slam the door in my face and not come back.
Being rejected like that, by both friends and crushes, time and time again, has a lingering effect on your self-esteem and even the opinions you have about yourself. I know I’m an emotional burden, which most people wouldn’t want to shoulder.
I’m not spontaneous, adventurous, or even daring. Instead, I’m nice. I’m kind.
But if I keep blocking people’s attempts to really get to know me, will I ever be satisfied with something surface level? With constantly masking and pretending I’m thriving when I’m not?
“Tell me?” he tries again, and for some reason it has my body sagging.
Exhaling, I let down some of my guard. “Just a little overwhelmed.”
It’s embarrassing to admit, and the need to claw back the words surges through me. I don’t want to burden him, to let him see what it’s like inside my head.
“What can I do? Do you want to talk?”
Definitely not. I can’t imagine telling him about my confused feelings for his friends. A sure way to have him walk away and never speak to me again. I might want to let him get to know the real me, but being open right now will get another metaphorical door slammed in my face.
“A hug?”
Nodding, he tugs me to my feet. “Can do that.”
Wrapping his thick, warm arms around me, he pulls me into his embrace.
Shit, I didn’t anticipate how good his hugs would feel. He surrounds me. Warmth seeps in, and his steady heartbeat draws my focus, relaxing me in a way I hadn’t thought possible.
I’ve never been a hugger. This might change things, though.
I’m converted. Give me all the hugs.
“So…group hug?” Max’s voice tickles the back of my neck as he wraps his arms around us, not waiting for a response.
My body sighs in relief. Having them both enclosing me like this is pure bliss. If it weren’t for the two of them propping me up, I’d be a comatose puddle on the floor.
However, Nate tenses against me, and it has my limbs stiffening back up.
“Relax, honeybee. Nate’s just not used to hugging. But we can get him used to them. Ain’t that right, you grizzly bear?”
I’m sandwiched between them, with my face pressed into Nate’s chest, so I’m not tall enough to see them looking at each other. But I know they are, I can feel it.
A visual standoff.
I just can’t tell why.
Is Nate offended he got called out on hugging? Because he doesn’t have anything to worry about. From where I’m standing, these hugs are so good. But maybe I’m biased.
“I like your hugs. You’re both good to hug.” I snuggle in deeper, pulling Max closer too. But it feels like the tension cranks up.
Wait, does Nate have a problem with Max hugging us? Or me?
“See, she likes us both hugging her. It’s making her happy, Nate.” Max squeezes me with his words, and a contented sigh slips out before I can stop it.
The tension in Nate eases, and he places a kiss on my hair, then rests his chin on my head.
My stomach chooses that moment to grumble, and Max laughs in my ear and pulls away.
I lean back to stare up at Nate and offer him a smile, heart aching from their care. “Thank you.”
He drops a kiss on my nose, gives one last squeeze, then heads to the dinner table, which is already laden with all the dishes for dinner.
Embarrassment floods me at the thought of everyone having watched me having my “moment”. But Noah steps in front of me, cutting off my view of the others sitting down to eat.
“It’s hard letting new people into your life, taking the risk to trust people with parts of yourself you usually keep hidden.” His intelligent hazel gaze fixes on me, and his words sink deep.
The tight bands around my chest ease. I feel seen, understood.
I clear the thickness from my throat. “It’s easier with you all than I thought it would be. But being easier somehow makes it scarier, like the risk is somehow bigger.”
His head tilts, considering my words. “I can see that. When you care more, there’s more at risk. More to lose. Whilst I can’t speak for the others on how they feel, I can say that none of us would ever want to intentionally hurt or risk you in any way.”
My gaze drops to my clasped hands. “I feel the same about all of you too,” I reply softly.
He steps in closer, and his palm curves around the side of my neck. His thumb glides down my jaw, tilting my chin up to look at him.
“If you ever feel overwhelmed, need a hug, or need to talk, I’d really like to be there for you too,” he says quietly.
I don’t know how to truly take him up on that offer. It’s more than I expected from anyone, and it feels too generous to follow through on. But I don’t want to let him down either.
“Okay.”
His eyes narrow slightly, so I’m not sure he believes me. I don’t really believe myself either.
“I mean it, Rosy,” he says emphatically as his palm falls away. “Let’s go eat before it gets cold.”
He nudges me to the table, dropping a hand to the middle of my back as we walk.
Pulling out a chair, he gestures for me to sit, then pushes it under me as I do.
He brushes a hand across my shoulder and walks over to his chair.
Leaving me sitting here with a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
Nate places a loaded plate and bowl in front of me. His heavy palm settles on my thigh, stroking back and forth as he picks up his fork and starts eating.
I don’t move for a moment, calming my racing heart, then he stops eating and scowls pointedly at my plate. Rolling my eyes playfully, I grab a fork and start eating.