“Not today,” I repeat, pulling my arms from his grasp as his brows furrow.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I told you, I want to go for a hike.”
“Nah.” Nathan shakes his head, his gaze a mix between hurt and disgust. “This is more than that. This is about Z—”
“Where were you tonight?” I ask, cutting in before he mentions Zane. I can’t think about him right now, even though I’m pretty sure he’s the reason I’m acting so strange.
Nathan recoils as though I slapped him before his face falls. “You know?”
“Know what?”
“I promise nothing happened.” His throat bobs. “I didn’t touch any of them.”
Oh, God.My heart jolts and I swallow a lump in my throat, thankful it isn’t bile.
“Who?” I play dumb. “You didn’t touch who?”
“The girls.” His voice comes out as a whisper. “I didn’t touch them.”
I cringe, and while I don’t particularly want to hear about the details, his reaction suggests there’s more to the story, and I can’t ignore the sinking feeling in my gut.
“Where were you? And why do you look so guilty?”
“The guys said I needed a lap dance. That they all do it. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t.”Jesus. Nausea finally takes over me and when he steps closer, I step back, needing to put some distance between us. “I didn’t touch her,” he rushes out, his voice panicked. “You know me, Blair. Youknowme. I didn’t enjoy it. I love you.”
My skin prickles. Jenna was right. About everything. But at the same time, he’s not the only one that messed up tonight. And like Zane said… It doesn’t matter because I trust Nathan and Idoknow him.
My head drops as I run a hand through my hair. “Nathan—”
“Please, Blair.” His anguished tone makes me physically ache, but when he steps forward again, I still shake my head. “Fuck.” His voice strains. “I promise, nothing happened.” He drops to his knees. wrapping his arms around my legs.
“Stop.”
“I’m so stupid.” His voice shakes. “I—”
“I believe you.” I sigh, running a hand down my face. “Please stand up.”
“So, you’re not repulsed by me?”
“No,” I say honestly. If anything, his admission eases some of my own guilt.
“And you’re coming to bed?” He smiles and I feel nauseous again.
“No. I’m going—”
“Why? If you believe me, why won’t you come to bed?”
I pause, my mind whirling. He’s never been this pushy. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you so desperate for me to come to bed?”
His eyes widen before his expression turns. “Do I need a reason to have sex with my girlfriend?”
“No, but this isn’t like you.”
