Chapter 10 #2
We’d made promises to stay in touch. Sent a few texts about how we missed each other and would try to meet up during the summer.
But our lives didn’t quite overlap… or, maybe we just didn’t work too hard to make them overlap.
Hart was on the football team with David.
He was a guard: large, fearless, and steady.
He had a type of calm confidence I admired and envied.
“Football field, gym, bed.” As he spoke, we kept our arms wrapped around each other, too excited to realize how odd it might be. But we were both huggers and hand warmers, and whatever involved comforting touch.
Haven cleared her throat, too polite to tell him to get his hands off her designated security friend.
“This is my best friend.” I reached out, tugging Haven into our little world.
Hart’s eyes brightened. “The one who surfs?”
I nodded. “And wants to travel for a living after school.”
“Wicked,” he said and smiled at her.
She tried to smile back, but the lack of people distracted her. “Very wicked…so, where’s the party? I thought we’d be swinging off banisters and doing keg stands.”
“Oh, no, that was last week,” Hart teased. “Sorry you missed it. Tonight, we’re more of a small group who argue over orange and red properties or who did what in the study room with the candlestick.”
When Haven gave him a confused look, and he returned it, I laughed and became their translator. “He’s talking about board games. She didn’t grow up with board games or TV unless it was late-night cable.”
“I’m very proficient in I Dream of Jeanie,” Haven offered.
I slipped out of Hart’s embrace when he asked about classic American television, and got a glimpse of David disappearing into the kitchen. I smiled at the strangers in the living room, who offered me obligatory waves and polite ‘hellos.’
The kitchen was an outrageous display of wealth.
The glossy finery made me wonder whether people actually cooked inside, or if it was as useless as an IKEA display.
One thing that my siblings and I could ruin in our family home was the kitchen.
Mom even had a TV installed above one of the counters so we could watch cartoons while helping her bake.
Another wave of nostalgia engulfed me. Big houses with small rituals were the source of most of my homesickness.
A guy with gold-wire framed glasses, dark brown skin, and a look of absolute concentration carefully placed a couple of candles around the edge of a sheet cake.
Based on my current catering knowledge, I estimate the trays of food on the island cost about $300.
On the ground were pot after pot of houseplants.
The space was one part fine dining, one part greenhouse.
“Hi,” I greeted.
The guy looked up, confused for a moment before offering me a warm smile. “Hello.”
It was quiet for a second as he continued placing the candles, and I stood in the doorway, awkwardly watching.
“I’m Yara.”
“Nathaniel,” he said without looking up.
“Nice to meet you.”
He nodded. More silence.
“I’m a frie—David invited me,” I explained my presence. “I thought I saw him come in here.”
“Bathroom,” Nathaniel nudged his chin toward a long hallway leading into the back of the house. There were at least six visible doors, each closed with light filtering out from underneath.
“Right.” I clasped my hands behind my back. “Mind if I wait here for him?”
“Not at all.” He moved to get more candles. I took a seat at the counter on the lush, green-threaded barstool.
Nathaniel’s fresh fade and thick biceps conjure images of a smiling athlete pinned to the dining hall’s bulletin board. He’d been on the school website’s front page more times than any of his fellow teammates combined. He was a true golden boy of Westbrooke’s dreams.
“I remember you made that winning touchdown last year,” I said. “They say you broke the school’s losing curse.”
“Lucky catch.” He shrugged, offered me a shy smile before pushing his glasses on top of his head. Nathaniel moved some plants from one side of the room to another. He even lifted the large pots with one hand and little to no effort.
“Rumor has it you once won the lottery and survived two plane accidents. People say that’s why they recruited you. Apparently, whatever you touch turns to gold,” I teased, trying to trigger a conversation.
According to my stealthy Google search underneath the table, Nathaniel held the all-time best receiving record in the NCAA.
Westbrooke hadn’t even qualified for the playoffs until last year, when Nathaniel stepped on campus.
After his arrival, they’d lost only two games in the entire season, a nearly impossible feat.
Nathaniel was a fantastic contender for the annual picnic basket fundraiser BWD hosted, featuring a handful of eligible Black men on campus.
Charming smile, incredible arms, and a winning record.
His basket would undoubtedly spark a bidding war.
If I could get him to open up and trust me, maybe I could convince him to get involved in a worthy cause.
He offered me the smile one might offer a little kid who was word vomiting, and said, “That so?”
“Very so,” I assured.
A hint of ink peeking out of his grey long sleeve marked him as the second guy in the trio of tattoo sleeves.
In the handful of times I’ve seen him around campus, he barely opened his mouth.
Nathaniel seemed perfectly content in the silence.
Not interested in the slightest in bragging about his talent and victories.
Unsure of what to say next, I fell back on what was most comfortable:
“I’m the president of a student org.” I dug into my bag, looking for the business cards Haven insisted were a waste of money. But nothing said you meant business like a glossy logo. “I would love to connect and talk about potential collaboration opportunities.”
“Yara,” a warning voice appeared from the doorway behind Nathaniel. “Don’t work my teammates.”
“What? We’re just talking.” I shrugged.
“I didn’t invite you to pressure people into extracurricular activities.” David began helping his friend move the plants from one end of the room to the other. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll talk your ear off if you let her. Don’t let her.”
Nathaniel chuckled and came over to grab the business card from me. It’s then that I realize how much taller he was than me. Shoulders broad, jawline sharp, wide nose stunning. “It’s cool. I like talkers.”
My cheeks burned at his genuine smile and the kind tone of his voice. I gave David a look that said, ‘See, some people appreciate me.’
“I’ll have my people contact your people,” Nathaniel said.
I nodded, still feeling a bit lightheaded at his full attention. He had this way about him that I’m sure could only be captured on some genius’s canvas or a poet’s prized notebook. “I’m my people.”
“Me too.” His laugh was deep and soothing. Now I’m the shy one, too stunned to speak.
“I need to grab a couple more pots from my car,” he said to David before giving me a polite nod and smiling goodbye. “It was nice meeting you.”
I watched him leave, only to be pulled back down to earth when David cleared his throat.
“Sorry.” I blinked and shook my head. “He’s just…wow. And…wow.”
“Tell me about it.” David nodded, reminding me we had similar tastes in men. “But I need you to leave the networking alone. I was trying to be nice, inviting you here, but if you keep trying to broker deals, I’m going to have to see you out.”
“I’m just starting a conversation. I can’t help it if it naturally flows into things like events. Events are my thing.”
David stood at the sink, scrubbing his hands. There were clouds of steam from how hot the water was, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
“Nothing naturally flows with you,” he said, still scrubbing. I could see his blurry reflection in the window over the sink. The ghost of a smile lingered on his lips.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in a good mood,” I teased. “Thanks to my arrival, right?”
He scoffed and glanced over his shoulder for a second. “Yeah, I’m so thrilled to see you for the fifth time this week.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” I smiled. “What’s with all the foliage?”
“Nat’s moving in for the semester. These are his children,” he said.
“Moving in?” I looked up at the chandelier. “A college athlete can afford this kind of rent? I knew I should have kept running.”
“This is Weston’s family’s house… one of four.
” He finally stopped washing his hands, grabbed a napkin to dry them, and paid careful attention to the space between his fingers.
“They only use this one every other summer. Six beds, four baths, a sauna, and a mini golf course in the back—because the community one wasn’t enough. ”
I laughed. “Wait, so, you’re friends with this guy but give me the side-eye because I’m used to getting my clothes dry-cleaned and spent a few summers in the Maldives?”
He gave me a half-shoulder shrug. “I gave Weston shit for it at first, too.”
“At first?” I noted. “So, why exactly have I not transitioned into reverent respect?”
“Who says I don’t reverently respect you?”
I frowned. “Really?”
“I’m not trying to start an argument,” he promised with a hand to his heart.
“Not this time. I actually do reverently respect you. Why wouldn’t I?
You work hard. Grind. And put a lot of pressure on yourself.
Too much for someone of your background.
So, I figure you’re trying to make up for where you come from.
It’s admirable. And unnecessary. Those seem to be your calling cards. ”
My mouth was open, but nothing came out. David seriously said something nice. Something not laced in disappointment or disapproval. I’d long ago released the desire to glean his approval. But now that it was here, I couldn’t help but bask in its warmth.
“That’s… charitable of you,” I managed.
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he warned with a smile. “I still think you’re annoying.”
I laughed, thankful for his lifting of the soft veil that’d somehow draped over us for a moment, making our exchange feel like coming home after a trip that went on far too long.
“How do you have friends like this, anyway?” I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder. “Nathaniel seems kind. And Hart’s a big, beautiful sweetheart. I think one of my org members is involved with Weston, so that’s a good seal of approval for me.”
“Contrary to your very limited belief,” David said. “I can be fun to be around.”
I laughed. “I’d kill to see some of that fun.”
“I have to be around people who bring the best out of me.”
David gave me a knowing smile, and my mind conjured up the memory of us on the rocks.
I’m right back to his arms around my waist, with his lips just a breath away from my ear, and I can’t be properly annoyed because I’m properly confused.
He stared back at me, also confused about why I didn’t parry his remark.
His phone buzzed on the counter, freeing me from his gaze and the possibility of being seen right through. Whatever was on the screen made him smile.
“Weston’s running a bit late,” David said. “We’ve got about another forty-five minutes until he’ll show up. More than enough time for a dare.”
My stomach caved. “Now? You don’t have more streamers to hang or caviar to plate?”
David held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
I pulled my bag closer to my chest as if he demanded to take all I was worth. “Why?”
“It’s part of the dare,” he said. “I dare you to let me text anyone in your contacts.”