I drop my hands to my lap and rub my palms on my jeans, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t reply right away, but I feel him come back to the table, and then he pulls out the chair next to me and sits. “Why are you sorry?”
I shrug, and my chest feels tight. I keep rubbing my hands on my jeans, back and forth, back and forth. They’re not sweaty or anything, but I can’t seem to stop.
“Nico, hey, what’s going on?” When I don’t answer, his hand settles on top of mine, and I close my eyes as my movement finally stills. “I should be the one saying sorry,” he continues. “I’ve been, um... well...” He lets out a weak laugh and slowly pulls his hand back. “I had a weird day today, and I’ve just been in my head a lot this afternoon. I, um... I finally told Jenna that I just want to be friends...”
He trails off in some way that seems to suggest he’s got more to say, but he stops there, and when I look up at him, he’s just staring at the table, his jaw tight and one hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. He swallows and glances sideways at me. Again, I getthe sense he has more to say, but he stays quiet.
I blink and lower my eyes back to my hands. I want to ask more about Jenna, but it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. So instead, I just say, “I had a weird day too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Work?”
“N-no, kinda. Work was okay. But I...” I pause and clench my teeth. I’m so fucking scared to say something wrong and mess things up more that I can’t even get myself to say anything at all. He’s obviously weirded out by what I told him on the phone, or he wouldn’t be acting like this.
My hands ball up into fists, and I screw my eyes shut. I can’t fuck this upmore. I can’t. I have to be okay. I have to stop making him uncomfortable. I can’t slip up like that again.
Without warning, his flushed cheeks pop back into my mind. Flushed cheeks tinged pink, and with a thin sheen of sweat. And... breathless. He was breathless, his lips slightly parted as he tried to hide how fast he was breathing. Then his eyes, dark and intense, staring at me as I walked away. The... damn, thearousalin them. Shit. Shit. Shit.
What the fuck does it even mean?
“My mom’s going to make me pay her for the car, or she’ll report it stolen,” I blurt out, because my jeans are suddenly too tight and I need to think of something—anything—else. “I have until June 6 to come up with five hundred dollars.”
“What?! What the . . . No. Nico, that’s . . .”
“Fucked up, right?” I push my chair back and pick up my bowl to move it to the sink, needing to put a little distance between us. But he follows me. Of course he follows me.
“How much do you . . .Five hundreddollars?”
I nod as I rinse out the bowl and put it in thedishwasher. “I get my first paycheck that day, but it won’t be enough.”
“Yeah, um . . . Shit.”
“Yeah.”
He’s standing close, right next to me, leaning back against the counter. And I wish he’d just hold me. I wish he’d wrap an arm around my waist and pull me up against him and whisper that everything’s going to be okay. Tell me I haven’t fucked up and that he’ll be here and that I’ve got a home here. I wish. But even though he’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his body, he doesn’t move, and whatever this awkward shit is between us just seems to grow.
I dry my hands on a dish towel and then stuff them into my pockets. “I don’t know what to do,” I mumble. Then, against my better judgment, I pull out my phone, open it to my mom’s text from earlier in the day, and hand it to him.
His fingers brush mine, sending a rush of heat through me, but he seems to pull away quickly. Or maybe that’s me imagining it. In any case, I shove my hands back into my pockets and stare down at the floor as he silently reads the texts from my mom.
I only know he’s done when he blows out a long breath, sets my phone on the counter, and then hesitates for a second before stepping closer.
Please.
“Nico, I... God, that’s so messed up,” he says, his voice low and rough.
Please.
I close my eyes as my chest tightens.
Please help me.
He’s going to. I can feel it. He’s moving closer, and he’ll hug me and make everything that much better, despite how fucked up it all is and despite how muchIfucked up.
