And, she never announces it, but she sometimes wears a liquid blush in a rosy shade. I know because I saw her adding some to the amount she came in with. Andsometimes, she’ll wear mascara. She’s wearing both tonight.
I tower over her, my frame forming a shadow above hers. She’s the shortest of the girls, standing five-two exactly. There was a day in high school when we all measured each other for shits and giggles, and her height just stuck on my brain. I catalog everything about her, keep them in separate files in my brain because even if I’m not her favorite person, she’s one of mine and I pay attention.
Everyone should always pay attention to Natalia and what she has to say.
“I didn’t say that,” Natalia mutters.
“But you said it was none of my business,” I tease, “which implies there is business to begin with.”
Nat groans. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
I smirk. “I’m a delight.”
“You give me migraines.”
“You give me?—”
“Stop.” Her finger is pointing up at me and the nostrils of her button nose are flared. The cutest. “Don’t youdare.”
I lean forward with a slight bend, and her finger an inch from the tip of my nose. “Get your head out of the gutter, Davis-Jeong.”
“I hate you,” she grumbles, dropping her hand. “Go home before I run you over.”
I block off her entry into the car. “Natalia.”
She frowns. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you care,” she snarls. “Now,move. I’m tired and I have my cozy bed and cat waiting for me.”
Natalia doesn’t move and neither do I. Her fiery eyes flare with fury, the nostrils of her button nose flare the tiniest bit, and I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my lips then back up—all in less than a split second as if I wouldn’t notice.
I steal a split second to do the same, fighting the urge to keep my gaze on her full, plump rosy lips and kiss them. To kiss her up against her car the way I have been dreaming about doing since I was a pining teenage boy. Some things don’t change, I guess.
“Rowan, mo?—”
“What’s wrong?” I rasp.
“I saidnothing.”
“So, what? You’re going to go home to Binx and watchBeetlejuiceto make yourself feel better?”
The flaring returns in both eyes and nostrils. “IloveBinx, and she’s better than you.”
“I never said she wasn’t,” I say. “I’m just saying you should talk about what’s bothering you instead of sitting at home with your cat on your lap and watchingBeetlejuicefor the millionth time of your life.”
“It would be a million and thirteenth?—”
“Natalia, we’re friends,” I try to reason, inching closer—carefully. This moment is too precious, too delicate, and too precarious for me to ruin.
“Are we?”
No, I want to say.We aren’t friends because I’ve been playing thisback and forth with myself for years, Natalia, and I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and I’m waiting for you to want me back.
“Yes.” I breathe. “We are.”
A thick, incredulous eyebrow arches. “Nothing is wrong, I am happy. And I’d be even happier if you weren’t in my face.”
