CHAPTER TWENTY DEAN #3
“Alright. Whatever you say.”
With a chuckle, I do as I’m told, leaving the kitchen and sitting at the dining table to scroll through my phone. Nick returns after a while with two plates of an egg dish, and holy fuck, it smells heavenly.
“This is really freaking good,” I say through massive mouthfuls, my chest blooming when he returns a warm smile.
We demolish the food, and once I’m done, I’m buzzing.
When it comes to cooking, Nick’s the complete opposite of me—while I’m barely capable of sustaining myself, this guy should become a chef or something. He’d almost be wasting talent if he sticks with baseball.
I speak before I think things through. “My god, this makes me wanna fuckin’ marry you.”
The clapback that doesn’t come sends a wave of conflict through my head. When Nick slumps back into his chair, running a hand across his face, the discomfort only intensifies.
Did I go too far?
“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “I can't keep doing this.”
It’s a struggle to keep my face neutral with my stomach sinking the way it is. “You can’t keep doing…what?”
He buries his face in his hands, and it takes everything I’ve got to prevent myself from running around the table to sling an arm around his shoulder.
Nick sucks in a deep breath. “I can't keep liking you like this. Fuck!” He lifts his head, his eyes closed, and then he opens them to fix me with a sad stare. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No, you aren't,” I say automatically.
He replies before I have a chance to continue. “How else am I gonna describe it? We agreed to be casual friends who happen to hook up, but me liking you is what let me sign up to this in the first place!”
“Okay, well, if you're an idiot, so am I. I like you too, if it wasn't completely obvious already.”
Those pretty gray eyes roll, and he lets out a huff of air. “You’re the one who can hook up like it’s nothing! You’re the one who can talk dirty and hold me down and screw my brains out without it making you die a little more every time.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Okay, well, you have the wrong idea about me, and don’t tell me my dirty talking is actually convincing.” We fall into tense silence, so I fill it. “As much as you joke about me being a fuckboy, why do you think I chose to kind of be one?”
“Because you’re a normal guy who can have sex without making everything complicated?”
Frustration floods my body, and I ball my fists up under the table, digging my fingernails into my skin. “Jesus, Nick. That’s not true at all. You aren’t the only one who ignored his own history.”
I get a frustrated stare as a reply.
“The reason,” I continue, “is because I fall fucking hard, even though nothing before compares to how bad I have it for you.”
Nick groans, scraping his fingers through his recently trimmed hair. “Stop telling me this. It’s already hard enough for me without knowing you like me back.”
I shrug, shaking my head. “Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be hard?”
Usually, two people liking each other makes things easier than when it’s unreciprocated.
Looking back at me with a tired stare, he parts his lips to say, “But, like, fuck. I don’t know what to do. Everything I said wouldn’t happen did, and now I’m freaking the fuck out.”
It isn’t like I have any good ideas, either, so I stand up to go to him, maybe to comfort him, or even just calm him down, or—
Nick sticks a hand up. “I can’t think about this now,” he says sharply. “It feels like I can’t breathe in here.”
And then he stands up himself, heading for the door.
Is he seriously going to walk out on me like this?
“I need to clear my head.” He grabs one of his sweaters from the coat rack. “Look, I know this is a dick move, but I’m sorry. I can’t stay put.”
“Where are you even going to go?” I ask. “You don't know your way around, and—”
“Look, I'm not a fucking baby. I need to be alone for a bit. I'm going to take a walk, and I'll call you if I get horribly lost and cold and scared like a stray cat. I’ll come back, but fuck, I need to leave.”
Then the door clicks before I can reply, but it’s not Nick who opens it.
It’s Dad.
“Hi. Sorry, I was just heading out.” Nick runs out the door like there's a gas leak, leaving me and my confused dad behind.
“Is he okay?” Dad asks, pointing at the door that Nick at least had the decency to not slam shut.
“He’s…homesick? I think.” Jesus, that’s weak, but screw it. “He says he needs to think about things alone, or…something.”
“Right.” Dad looks back at the door again, before turning back to me. “Why are you so worried?”
“Because he could get lost.” Shit. I told Nick his map app doesn't work here, and his stubborn ass didn't download one that does. He probably doesn't even remember what it's called in case he does need it. “I need to find him.”
Dad puts up a hand. “Nick’s an adult, and he'll be fine. Don’t run after him, even if…”
Even if what? I stay silent, hoping he continues.
“Even if you two are exceptionally good friends.”
Exceptionally good friends.
The implication that we’re anything more than “good friends” slams into my chest.