“I-I…” My thighs press together.
He bites his lip, his arm moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
“I promise you’ll enjoy it, Mads,” he murmurs. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
I shake my head. Of course not. “I love everything we’ve done together.” As the words slip through my lips, I hear a car door in the distance.
“Ah. I think Mama’s home.”
Nate throws his head back, groaning, “Fucking great. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Hey,” I snap when he almost hangs up. “What the heck, Nate?”
“Sorry. It’s been a long day. I love you, Mads.”
“Love you more. Four more months,” I whisper.
Four more months until December, when I find out if I got accepted to USC early decision.
“Feels like forever and tomorrow at the same time,” he sighs, then suddenly perks up. “In two weeks, I have a free weekend. Let me fly out there to see you.”
I almost say that would be too expensive, but then I remember who I’m talking to.
Nate turned eighteen two weeks ago and inherited part of his grandparents’ fortune.
He mentioned things like trusts and investments. I have no clue what that all means.
All I know is that he’s trying to buy me something new every day.
“Maddie Grace, you home?” Mama calls from downstairs.
My nerves spike, and I lower my voice. “I would love nothing more, but it’s not a good idea, Nate. I don’t have a car, and I can’t sneak out. One of my neighbors will be sure to tell Mama. Trust me, there is nothing to do in this town other than spy and gossip.” I hear her footsteps coming up the stairs. “I need to go.”
Nate sighs and hangs up without a goodbye, leaving me staring at my blank screen, questioning the shift in his mood.
I can’t worry about his behavior for long. I shove the laptop under my pillow before Mama walks in, but something doesn’t feel right.
And I hate that I can’t shake it.
Three Months Later
November
I text Nate again when there is no answer.
Are we still Skyping?
My leg bounces anxiously, my phone screen glaring back at me, void of a response.
I haven’t heard from Nate in hours, and I stayed up late on purpose, pushing through exhaustion for this call.
Forhim.
But the longer I stare at the screen, the more the doubt creeps in.
Things have been challenging the last few weeks, and I’m nervous he’s giving up on us.
We’ve both been swamped with schoolwork, and our schedules do not align at all, especially with the three-hour time difference.
