Chapter 2
Rowan
Natalia has this thing about her—several things, actually—that just kind of undo me. I don’t know how else to explain it, she just undoes me. Unravels and melts me into putty.
It’s her long, curly and spiraling dark hair that she always tosses to the side. The way her golden brown skin glows, and the way her full lips stretch when she smiles and the apples of her cheeks get a bit rosy. She also has a dimple in her chin, just under the left corner of her lip.
And as I go toward my car at the end of Isabelle’s birthday party, I wait to look at her before getting in.
I watch the way her head tips back when she laughs, the sound raspy and loud.
That’s the other thing—she laughs so loudly and unabashedly, and I love it.
She doesn’t care if people look at her like she’s annoying or obnoxious.
When she laughs, she’s happy, and she doesn’t care if the world knows it.
Natalia hugs Isabelle goodbye on the sidewalk, smiling.
She lingers for a moment after Isa is gone, staring down at her feet and kicking at the pavement, some of the smile still there.
Then she finally takes a breath and walks to her car, parked in front of mine, and it isn’t until she’s pulling the door open that her smile falls entirely, like it was never there.
There is no hint, no evidence, that she was ever smiling or happy tonight. Even after our childish debacle in the back, and after having to sing “Happy Birthday” to Isabelle on our own while our friends made fun of us.
Now, we’re the only ones left, and I see beneath the mask she puts on. I know her better than she thinks I do. I know her tells and her twitches, especially the ones that tell me if she’s lying or not.
“You’re staring, creep,” Natalia says, pulling me out of my head.
I blink and those hazel eyes melt me to nothing. “I’m trying to figure you out.”
“Well…” She inhales shakily. “Stop.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Natalia’s body goes rigid and I notice it from here. “None of your business,” she mumbles.
“So something is wrong?” I shut my car door and take a few long strides toward her. She crosses her arms over her chest, setting her expression straight, and I’m at risk of tripping over myself because of how beautiful she is even when she’s grumpy.
Natalia leans back against her car, beside the door that is still open, and stares up at me through her long lashes.
She doesn’t ever wear makeup—she’s always barefaced with perfectly natural eyelashes and even more perfectly defined eyebrows to match.
Her freckles are scattered over her nose and the tops of her cheeks in a way that someone could take a pen and trace from one to the next to form a constellation.
And her lips…they’re perfect. Everything about her in my eyes is flawless.
And, she never announces it, but she sometimes wears a liquid blush in a rosy shade. I know because I saw her adding some to the amount she came in with. And sometimes, she’ll wear mascara. She’s wearing both tonight.
I tower over her, my frame forming a shadow above hers.
She’s the shortest of the girls, standing five-two exactly.
There was a day in high school when we all measured each other for shits and giggles, and her height just stuck on my brain.
I catalog everything about her, keep them in separate files in my brain because even if I’m not her favorite person, she’s one of mine and I pay attention.
Everyone should always pay attention to Natalia and what she has to say.
“I didn’t say that,” Natalia mutters.
“But you said it was none of my business,” I tease, “which implies there is business to begin with.”
Nat groans. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
I smirk. “I’m a delight.”
“You give me migraines.”
“You give me—”
“Stop.” Her finger is pointing up at me and the nostrils of her button nose are flared. The cutest. “Don’t you dare.”
I lean forward with a slight bend, and her finger an inch from the tip of my nose. “Get your head out of the gutter, Davis-Jeong.”
“I hate you,” she grumbles, dropping her hand. “Go home before I run you over.”
I block off her entry into the car. “Natalia.”
She frowns. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you care,” she snarls. “Now, move. I’m tired and I have my cozy bed and cat waiting for me.”
Natalia doesn’t move and neither do I. Her fiery eyes flare with fury, the nostrils of her button nose flare the tiniest bit, and I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my lips then back up—all in less than a split second as if I wouldn’t notice.
I steal a split second to do the same, fighting the urge to keep my gaze on her full, plump rosy lips and kiss them. To kiss her up against her car the way I have been dreaming about doing since I was a pining teenage boy. Some things don’t change, I guess.
“Rowan, mo—”
“What’s wrong?” I rasp.
“I said nothing.”
“So, what? You’re going to go home to Binx and watch Beetlejuice to make yourself feel better?”
The flaring returns in both eyes and nostrils. “I love Binx, and she’s better than you.”
“I never said she wasn’t,” I say. “I’m just saying you should talk about what’s bothering you instead of sitting at home with your cat on your lap and watching Beetlejuice for the millionth time of your life.”
“It would be a million and thirteenth—”
“Natalia, we’re friends,” I try to reason, inching closer—carefully. This moment is too precious, too delicate, and too precarious for me to ruin.
“Are we?”
No, I want to say. We aren’t friends because I’ve been playing this back and forth with myself for years, Natalia, and I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and I’m waiting for you to want me back.
“Yes.” I breathe. “We are.”
A thick, incredulous eyebrow arches. “Nothing is wrong, I am happy. And I’d be even happier if you weren’t in my face.”
I nod.
Natalia is a force. She’s armored to her teeth and is a fighter. I’ve witnessed how much stronger she’s grown these past years, unwilling to let anyone or anything fuck with her peace—including me. Even though I’m trying to be part of that peace, desperate to bring her some of it.
“You can talk to me, you know,” I tell her.
“Why would I do that?” Natalia crosses her arms and I don’t miss the way her smooth, raspy voice trembles just slightly.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my hand on the roof of her car curling into a fist so I don’t reach to hold her. “Because you need someone to listen?”
“I have my friends.”
“I’m your friend too.”
How long until pining after the same girl becomes unhealthy? When do you stop trying to get her to notice you the way you’ve always noticed her?
Natalia’s lips part, those eyes somewhere between neutral and tempestuous. Her gaze stays locked into place with mine. “I’m going home.”
She easily knocks my arm away and, defeated, I take a step back to allow her room to enter her car. Before she slams her door, I intervene to say, “Let me know when you get home. Please.”
Natalia looks up at me through her lashes, a softer gaze and a softer tone as she says, “Fine.”
“Goodnight, Natalia.”
I take a step back and the door closes. Three seconds later, her car is driving down the road and she’s disappearing into the dark.
Standing alone in the middle of the street, I contemplate my options.
I could go inside, talk and debrief with Christian while I help him finish cleaning so I don’t think about her—so I don’t imagine fake scenarios where I kissed her instead of letting her drive away.
Or I could go home and question my life choices—overthink everything I’ve ever done.
I choose the latter and get in my car, knowing damn well neither Christian or Lana are cleaning right now.
Driving in silence but with chaos in my head, I manage to catch up to Natalia at a stoplight.
With the way Natalia left, that sadness in her eyes after saying goodbye to our friends, I know she won’t text me to tell me if she’s gotten home.
The light turns green and when she turns left, I do too.
I follow behind her black Chevy Trax for the next five minutes, even though Willow Springs is one of the safest towns.
I idle by as she parallel parks across the street from her apartment building.
She locks her car with a beep as she crosses the street and, before she opens the door of her building, turns to face my car.
Natalia stares right at me through my lightly-tinted windows and pulls out her phone. Mine buzzes in the cupholders, and I grin like a fool when I read her text.
Natalia
You can go home now
When I look up, she’s gone, but I keep holding on to the dangerous hope that one day she’ll be mine. The same, dangerous hope I’ve had since we were teenagers.
I first saw Natalia when I was sixteen, and I fell in love instantly—her seventeen freckles, her short curls that she now wears long, the hazel green eyes, and her soft raspy voice. I was sixteen and I’ve been on my knees for her ever since.
Before I drive off, I text her back.
Rowan
Are you sure?
Natalia
Binx says you’re disturbing her peace
Rowan
But I’m asking about yours
Natalia
My peace is just fine
Go home
With a sigh, I look up to the third floor, to the right corner window where her apartment is and see no lights on.
Rowan
Are you okay?
Natalia
Now you are disturbing MY peace
I’m fine, go home
Rowan
See you tomorrow for my usual breakfast?
Natalia
Croissant with a side of spit
Rowan
Just how I like it
Natalia doesn’t reply after, leaving me waiting. I’m able to find solace knowing she’s home and she’s safe. As comfortable as I can be, I finally drive off and arrive at my house in ten minutes. Inside, I pull out my phone as I walk toward my bedroom.
Rowan
I’m home. Goodnight
Natalia
Thank you
Rowan
Don’t be nice to me, it’s weird
Natalia
I hate you and your hair color looks fake
Rowan
That’s more like it