Mr No Name is still ecstatic at our arrival, and he shows no sign of being in pain, but when I glance down at his leg and see the blood dribbling from it, I curse. “His stitches have come loose.”
I swear I see relief spread across Nathan’s features once he realises it’s not me that’s bleeding, but I shove those thoughts away.
He quickly steps away to inform one of the workers about the dog’s condition, and after noticing their concern about being short-staffed when they come to check on the dog, I suggest we take him to the vet to save them the trouble.
Mr No Name has no objections to clambering into my old, rusty rental car—I’d offered to drive so as not to get blood on Nathan’s expensive Audi’s seats—and he waits patiently in the car's footwell as we make our way to the vet.
The drive is silent, and although awkward, I’m thankful for it.
I sit with my body hunched over as we wait for the vet to stitch Mr No Name up. The surgery is quiet, with only a lady holding a pet chinchilla on her lap—the rodent giving us the stink eye and definitely freaking Nathan out, judging by his perplexed eyebrows.
The silence is stretched thick and heavy, surrounding us like fog. My gaze flickers to the side of Nathan’s face for a second, and his jaw flexes, keeping his eyes straight ahead, boring into the back of the ripped, leather waiting room chair in front of him.
The air feels charged, filled with nervous energy.
I don’t understand how he’s sitting here and not choking. Instead, he’s as still as a statue.
I’m picking my lip nervously, and I realise I can taste blood. I pull my fingers away from my mouth, sucking on my bleeding bottom lip.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a heavy sigh, and Nathan turns to me. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I thought I was being… supportive, but it came out wrong.”
The lack of response I receive is suffocating, and I gaze into Nathan’s olive-green eyes, guilt hitting me hard in the chest. The last thing I want to do is make this more difficult for both of us.
He swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, and my eyes trail down the thick muscle of his neck. He looks defeated as he leans forward and rests his linked hands on his knees. “Don’t worry about it. I was being touchy.”
“I just want you to know I didn’t mean it in the way you think I did. I don’t think you’re a man-slut or anything like that.”
The corner of his lip twitches at the wordman-slut, but he holds it down. “Mae, just don’t worry about it. Okay?”
My chest fills with oxygen at the way he says my name. It rolls off his tongue so easily. So seductively.
I have to remind myself that we’re aiming to be civil here. And these aren’t the sorts of things you think about when trying to be civil with someone.
I offer him a curt nod. “Okay.”
Nathan’s eyes drop to my lips, and my stomach twists, my heart thumping inside my chest at how he’s looking at me.
A few seconds later, he’s still staring at my mouth.
Fuck me.
But a wave of reality drenches me when he says, “Your lip is bleeding.”
“What?”
“Your lip. It’s bleeding.”
“Oh.”
I rise from my seat and grab a tissue from the front desk, pausing there as I gently dab at my lip, needing the moment to myself. I can’t believe I thought—even for a brief second—he was looking at me in any other way than friendly.
Am I reallythathorny?
God, I need to get laid.
I haven’t celebrated Thanksgiving properly in years. Sure, Flo invites me over to her place on the city outskirts if Cam’s busy, and she’ll do an awful job carving a turkey. But it’s not the same as celebrating with your own family.
Although, Flo is as close to family as I can get—besides my brother.
