Yes, holy shit. What do you want to do?
Want me to come pick you up?
We could grab something to eat?
Or you could come here!
I want to go there. I want to go there so badly, I’m dizzy with the sudden desire of it. I’ve been so fucking stressed and wound up this past year and a half, barely been able to think beyond anything but Max and what happened to him. Nate feels separate from that—an oasis in the middle of the desert after I’ve been running for so long. I want to stop and drink him in.
Marcos
I can come to your place if you don’t mind.
The responding text is sent so fast, it’s clear he’d already been typing it. It’s nothing but his address and a smiley face, but it feels like he sent me a dick pic with the immediate direction my thoughts go. Throwing my phone back onto the counter with little regard for its safety, I towel dry as quickly as I can. Standing in front of my mostly empty closet, I automatically reach for a black T-shirt before pausing. I usuallydress pretty quietly, not one to draw attention to myself with my clothes, but the night we met I was wearing a white shirt. Maybe he liked it, and that’s why he came up to me.
Frowning, I grab the white one and tug it on, feeling absolutely ridiculous. Going back into the bathroom, I run a hand over my jaw, glad that I shaved this morning as my patchy facial hair is one of the least attractive things about me. Tucking my phone into the pocket of my jeans, I stand and look at myself in the mirror. There’s nothing particularly exciting about my features. I’ve got a pretty narrow face, which makes my cheekbones appear sharper and my nose more aquiline, but other than that, there’s no reason to look twice at me. Heavy dark brows over dark eyes, which Max tells me makes me look “broody” when I scowl, and doesn’t feel very sexy right now. Does Nate like broody men? I’m going to talk myself out of this if I stand here any longer.
“Pero es lo que hay.” I sigh, shaking my head at myself. Standing in front of a mirror and wishing for a more attractive face is an exercise in futility. I just have to hope that Nate can find at least one thing he likes enough to make all the rest unimportant.
I run my hand through my hair nervously and leave the room. Luke and Max are still unmoved from their spot on the couch, so I walk quietly into the kitchen, aware of Luke’s eyes on me. When I stand at the sink to refill my water glass, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.
“I’m going to go out for a bit, if that’s okay,” I mutter.
“Of course.”
“You guys will be fine? Should I…should I order some food for when Max wakes up?” I’m already reaching for my phone when Luke shakes his head.
“I’ll handle it. See you when you get back?”
I nod, glancing once more at Max’s prone form and Luke’s proprietary hand on his head.He’ll be all right,I tell myself. Throat a little tight, and now feeling bad for leaving him after a rough day, I tug on my shoes and close the door gently behind myself. Locking it, I fiddle with my keys for a second, suddenly feeling unsure. Should I really be doing this? It’s unfair to be going over to Nate’s house for the express purpose of hooking up, knowing that I’m only doing it to make myself feel better. I’m using him, and I know that I am.
Biting my lip, I pull out my phone and see that there’s additional texts from Nate.
Nate
Hurry up! Drive faster.
Just kidding. But seriously where are you?
That does it. Decision made, I put his address into Google Maps and stride to my car, heart thrumming with nerves and excitement.
I’m fidgetingon the doorstep of Nate’s house, tugging down the hem of my shirt and scuffing the sole of my Converse on the concrete step. Standing here, I’ve lost all the confidence I had back home and am once more having regrets. What the hell do I think I’m doing? This isn’t me. I need to quietly slip away and text him an excuse. I need to let this Nate thing go, once and for all.
But since I’m already here, and it would be rude not to at least say hi, I should probably stay. Reaching my hand upbefore I can change my mindagain, I rap my knuckles on the door. It opens so quickly, I take a step back, startled.
“Hi,” Nate says, smiling so widely I could count his teeth if I wanted to. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I was standing on the other side of the door, waiting.”
He laughs at himself, stepping backward to give me room to walk inside. I avert my eyes as I pass him, once more finding it hard to look at him. It’s like staring directly into the sun. I am so out of my league, it’s not even funny.
“How are you?” he asks, closing the door. I shake my hands out, trying to dispel some of my nerves. I haven’t even said hi yet.
“Hey, I’m…fine. How are you?”
He steps closer to me, drawing my eyes away from the floor and onto him. Fuck, but he’s handsome. He’s wearing an SCU basketball shirt and a ratty pair of cotton shorts that look like they are several washes past their expiration date. They’re short enough that I can see the vivid tan lines on his muscular legs. A solid demarcation between his pale thighs and brown calves. His brown hair is a little messy, and when he sees me looking, he reaches up to touch his fingertips to the soft hairs above his ear. His fingers are long and thin, but his knuckles look rough. I can see a couple scars across the back of his hand.
I jolt when my eyes meet his and he smiles crookedly at me. Oh fuck me, he was talking.
“Uhm. What?”
