49. Indy #3
And it hurts. Those images thread together, but when I try to reach for them, I can’t. They start drifting away from me, and I run after them. But I’m not fast enough.
And then I blink, and I’m back in the present. On a cold street with somebody else’s boyfriend and somebody else’s dog, pretending that pieces of someone else’s life belong to me.
“Blue,” Nick says.
I look away.
“We should head back,” I say, clutching the strap of Nova’s harness.
It almost feels like he’s going to argue, but then he nods. We’ve only just turned around when the skies open up above us. Nick looks down at Nova, scoops her up in his arms, and wraps his jacket around her. My pulse kicks violently at the sight.
“My place,” he calls over the white noise of the rain all around us. “It’s closest.”
He grabs my hand, and we make a run for it. It’s only a few blocks, but by the time we make it inside, we’re both sopping wet. It’s the second time today for me, but unlike this morning when it only made me more cranky, this time I look up and meet Nick’s gaze, and we grin at each other.
His hair is plastered to his forehead, and his shirt molds to his torso. I can see the outline of his pecs through the wet fabric, the darker shadows of his nipples, and my throat goes very dry very fast.
When I look up, I find his eyes on me. I don’t know if he saw me looking.
Most likely.
“Come on.” He nods toward the stairs. We trudge up the few flights. He wrestles the keys out of his pocket and opens the door, letting me in before him.
Once inside, Nick puts Nova down and takes the harness off. She shakes herself, but unlike Nick and me, she’s dry, so after another look at us, she starts sniffing the floor and every corner she can find before she disappears out of sight.
“You’re welcome,” Nick calls after her.
Laughter bubbles up inside my chest. He shakes his head and water flies all around us from his hair.
I start to laugh even harder. He tries to resist, but he can’t, and then we’re both laughing.
It’s the kind of helpless laughter that I can’t stop, tinged with a deep sadness because a part of me says this is how it could have been.
Just us two and laughter. But then we ruined it.
Eventually the laughter peters out, and then we’re standing in the hallway, way too close to each other. I can smell the rain on his skin. I look at him, and I’m hungry for all the things I can’t have anymore. Starving.
I rub my forearms, goosebumps springing up on my skin. I don’t know if it’s from the cold or from how close he is.
“Take the first shower,” Nick says. “The bathroom’s here. I’ll find you something to wear.”
Naked in Nick’s apartment? With only a closed door separating us? I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure me being here in the first place is the worst idea in the history of ideas.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine. I should get going anyway.”
“Stop arguing, Blue,” he says with a sigh.
I don’t require any more persuasion. I just give in and silently pat myself on the back because obviously I did my best to do the right thing, didn’t I?
You’re so freaking dumb.
Once again, he grabs my hand. Once again he’s pulling me after him down the narrow hallway. He pushes a door on his left open and flicks the light on.
“I’ll get you something to wear,” he says, and then he’s gone, and I’m alone.
I look around the small bathroom, toying with the hem of my shirt. There’s a subway-tiled walk-in shower, a dark blue vanity, and a mirror that stretches from one wall to the other. A few wooden shelves hold towels and an array of bottles and containers.
I’ve never seen a space that’s just Nick’s, and I’m dying to explore but also aware that I’m most likely not welcome to do that.
“Here,” he says softly from somewhere behind me. I whirl around and take the clothes he’s holding out for me, clutching them against my chest.
His lips twitch. “You’ll make them wet.”
My mind is all over the place by this point, so now I’m holding the clothes out in front of me.
Nick chuckles, the sound low and impossibly intimate in this small space.
“The shower’s a bit tricky.” He moves past me, his body brushing against mine. He fiddles with the tap and turns the water on. He holds his hand under the stream, until he deems it warm enough, it seems, then pulls his hand away and wipes it against his thigh.
“All good,” he says. Only now we’re standing right against each other. Toes against toes and chests against chests, and I can’t seem to breathe at all anymore.
He lifts his hand, and his thumb brushes over my temple.
“You’re shaking,” he says in a low voice.
It’s oxygen deprivation and bad decisions that demand to be made.
He swallows, throat moving. I imagine myself leaning forward and licking his neck. Now I really am shaking. Trembling with need and the urge to throw myself at him.
We’re so impossibly close.
And I remember everything.
What it was like to have nothing between us.
Every small detail.
Every brush of his fingertips.
Every kiss.
He licks his lips and blinks.
“Shower,” he says. “I’ll go find us all something to eat.”
I nod.
He walks out and shuts the door quietly behind him, and I slump against the wall.
Fuck me.
Fuck me.
Fuck. Me.
I smell like him. I smell like his shower gel. My hair smells like his shampoo. I bury my nose in the collar of his borrowed T-shirt and inhale and inhale and inhale the faint scent of oranges.
I open the door and step out of the bathroom, making my way down the hallway toward the light that spills out at the end of it. The hallway opens up to a living area with the kitchen against one wall and the rest of the space taken up by the living room.
Nova has settled in on the couch, clearly at ease, snoring softly, her paws twitching every now and then.
Nick is standing at the island that separates the living room from the kitchen area. He looks over when he hears me approach.
I manage a small smile.
“All yours if you want it,” I say, gesturing toward the bathroom.
His eyes move up and down me, taking in the forest-green sweatpants and the cream T-shirt. I feel every moment of that long look so intensely that he might as well be touching my bare skin.
“Dinner?” he says.
“You don’t have to.”
The look he sends me now burns right through the last of the resistance. “I want to.”
Shaky feet carry me over to him, and I sit down at the island.
“Can I help?”
We work in comfortable silence that’s only broken by him giving me directions on what to do and how to do it, and me silently following orders.
He slides the two large wraps onto plates and adds two glasses of water.
I take the plates, he takes the glasses, and we settle in on the couch on either side of Nova. He flicks the TV on and turns on a random movie neither of us really pays attention to, and we eat. I groan after the first bite because I can’t help myself, only now realizing how hungry I was.
“So good,” I say through a mouthful, already taking the next bite.
“You can slow down,” he says with a laugh.
I scrunch my nose at him and ignore the suggestion while he laughs again. His eyes linger when I lick the sauce off my fingers, and I try to ignore the fact that my skin feels like it’s on fire.
I don’t know what we’re doing here, but whatever it is, we shouldn’t, and I also can’t put a stop to it.
Nova opens her eyes, gets to her feet, and manages to take a few steps before she slumps into Nick, head in his lap, legs on the couch between us, and then she’s asleep again.
Nick chuckles softly and looks up at me. There are so many unspoken words between us. Unspoken words and broken promises. But those are background noise right now. They barely register and are easy to ignore because he’s here, and I’m here, and it’s been so long.
We’re in a bubble of peace. It’s not real, and we both know it, but neither of us is going to break it either.
I miss him.
It’s the simple truth I’ve been trying to bury for so long. I do. I miss him. So maybe it’s okay if I steal this moment? Maybe just for a little bit, I can remember what it was like before the lying and the anger.
“A drink?” he asks.
“What do you have?”
“No idea. I think there’s beer? Probably some tequila.” He starts to get up, but I stop him with a hand on his knee. My cheeks heat, and I pull my hand away.
“I’ll go get it. You’re busy being a pillow.” I point at the dozing puppy, and he shrugs and grins.
“The cabinet on the left,” he says when I stop in the kitchen.
I take the tequila down, grab the salt, and quickly slice a lime into wedges.
“Glasses?” I ask.
He points to another cabinet.
I haul everything to the couch and set it all down on the coffee table clumsily. Salt spills everywhere. I don’t care too much. Mostly, I’m reckless.
It’s all pretty unceremonious. I unscrew the cap and pour it into shot glasses, then hold one out to him. He sets it down in front of him before he takes the lime wedge between his fingers. His gaze flicks to mine as he licks the salt between his thumb and index finger.
He holds his glass up toward me. I fumble with the salt.
“Cheers,” he says in a low voice.
We both toss the tequila back. I can’t stop staring at the way his throat moves, barely even noticing the taste.
I pour us another round of shots.
I down my next shot, and that’s the moment he chooses to ask, “Are you fucking Dylan?”
I start to cough, tequila spraying out of my mouth onto the front of my shirt while I try to catch my breath. He leans forward and pats my back while Nova sends us an annoyed look, jumps off the couch, and trots away.
“Shit,” Nick says. “Sorry. I just…” His jaw clenches. “Just tell me.”
He seems nervous. At least, I think it’s nerves. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this.
I put my shot glass down slowly and face him. “Why do you want to know?”
He shakes his head. Drags his fingers through his hair. “I don’t really. But I need to know anyway.”
I’m not angry, just tired all of a sudden.