He’s my friend. We’re friends. I’m his friend. Though we’re friends—just friends—I want to look nice for him. I want him to think I look nice. But we’re just friends, and I shouldn’t care if he thinks I look nice. We’re only hanging out, not dating. I remind myself of all of this to keep my from getting my hopes up that one day we’ll be more.
I go for ankle boots and a long-sleeved dress, and I pull my curls up into a messy bun.
The late afternoon flies by. I wait for everyone to get settled in their rooms before I grab my jacket and head out. Starting the car, I shift it in drive and roll onto the street before accelerating. Plugging in the address Nathan texted, I drive forty-four minutes to the Blue Lounge where there’s no parking lot or off-street parking.
I park along the street, a block away from where we’re meeting up. There are a ton of people milling about, girls in high heels plowing down the sidewalk, men smelling of hard liqueur and tobacco.
Nathan texts me, letting me know he’s standing outside the door.
I exit the car and triple lock the doors, hoping no one will try to break into it. This side of town looks shady and there are too many people standing about, eyeing this person or that, waiting for something. I don’t let it deter me, but I clutch my wallet close to my side and hurry to the lounge.
I shuffle down the sidewalk through the crowd waiting to get in. Nathan waves me over.
“Hey,” I say, making it to his side.
He gives me a one arm hug, and I tense to fight the cringe. “Thanks for coming.” He tugs the door open and we enter the blue lit lounge. It’s far too loud to chat, but we find a two-seater table in a corner, near the stage. A bowl of peanuts sits in the middle of the small round table. It’s night in this place, the only light beaming on the stage and bands. Those who want to dance have a floor right in front of the stage to do so, and surrounding it are four to two-seater tables. Beyond two rows of these round tables is the bar, making the waitresses’ hustle around the small space convenient.
Next to me, Nathan sits, bobbing his head to the music, snagging a peanut or two, and throwing them in his mouth. I stare at him hard, willing film after film to cover my eyes, willing my ability to see beyond the appearance presented. I purposely brush his hand when reaching for the peanut bowl, hoping some kind of feeling will tip me off to who he really is.
When our eyes meet, once, my heart goes insane. It sends a million shivers and certainties waving over me. A voice even says, “rest assured, Tracey, he’s real.” Is he? And if he is alive, who was it I saw get murdered, whose pain did I feel, whose aching was I suffering through, whose separation and death have I been living through the past three years?
“I’ve got a killer sweet tooth. Mind killing more time with me?” Nathan asks near my ear, nodding toward the door.
Killing time . . . I wish. “Sure,” I say. “But I’m going to move my car. I parked over a block away. Where’d you park?”
“I didn’t. I live about five blocks from here, so I walked. Parking is horrible tonight.”
Popping up my eyebrows, I mutter, “You don’t say.”
“How about you drive us to some ice cream that way your baby can stay with you.”
“Cool.”
We leave before the last band plays. The bands were okay, but I was so distracted, trying to find his flaws, and disturbed, yet relieved, I found none.
It’s still early, and long before the stores on the pier closed. Nathan offers to buy my ice cream, but I decline and cover my cost. Down the pier, we stroll side by side, to the very end where we prop our elbows on the wood railing.
A night boat’s passing and the people on it wave to those of us crowding the dock.
Nathan turns his back to the water and leans against the railing. “What time is curfew?” He licks his spoon and looks down at me from the corner of his eye.
I swallow my spoon full of mint ice cream. “I’ve got class in the morning, work in the evening, my brother and cousin have late nights, so I’ll be watching Jason all night, then back up and ready for it again the next day.”
“You’ll be busy tomorrow,” he states matter-of-factly. “What year are you?”
Shamefully, I admit, “Freshman.”
“Losing your family held you back?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” My embarrassment eases with his acceptance. “But, it’s been easy getting back into the flow of things. I thought it would be hard. What about you? What’s your hobby?”
“Oh,” he says dryly, scooping the last of his ice cream from his cup. “Engineering and graphic designs. I do a lot of designing websites and digital architecture.”
“They pay you to do that? Sit at home and drag your mouse around your computer.”
“Yep,” he says with a quick nod.
“I guess, as long as you love what you do, you’re never working.”
“Very true.” Nathan stuffs his empty cup beneath mine that’s only half empty. “If you could be doing anything else right now, anywhere in the world, what would it be?”
Little do you know, Nathan. This would be it . . . I ponder over my answer, finding it hard to come up with something other than the obvious. “Hmm. I’d be on a hot-air balloon ride in Morocco.”
“Morocco?” he snorts.
I smack my lips and fake an attitude. “Had I known I’d be judged for my answer, I wouldn’t have.”
“No. No.” He chuckles. “I’m sorry. I just meant, you know, not many people say hot air ballooning in Morocco. It just caught me off guard. But I dig it.” He turns around and leans his arms on the wood railing.
I throw my hand to my chest. “Excuse me for being different.”
Nathan drags his gaze away from me, saying, “Different is good, Tracey. Refreshing. I was talking to this chick the other day, and she said on a beach in Orlando with me rubbing her feet.” He turns up his nose and scoffs.
I laugh at the amount of disgust in him over her response.
“I ask you, anywhere in the world, and you want to go to Orlando? And I have to be rubbing your feet? We could be feeding starving children or something. Maybe zip-lining through the rain forest. We could be cleaning the fucking ocean and freeing sea turtles from human trash, but this girl got me rubbing her stinking ass feet!”
“Nate,” I blurt, laughing. “Stop.”
“I’m serious, Tracey.”
“I can tell,” I say in my laugh. “And after feeding the children and freeing sea turtles, I feel bad that all I want to do is fly over the desert.”
He bumps my arm with his elbow. “Hey. Your response was refreshing. Come on.” He gently tugs me by the crux of my arm.
I follow him off the pier to the beach. We walk along the bank. The waves wash up on the sand and the wind rustles paper and loose leaves that’s made it under the pier.
“Tracey?”
“Hum?” I flick my gaze up from the sand to him.
A foot apart from me, Nathan looks me over. A small smirk causes his dimple to wink at me. “Your eyes aren’t as dark anymore.”
I’m grateful it’s dark out here because I blush so hard I’m the color of a strawberry. I rake my teeth over my lip and bite back my smile. “They aren’t.”
Nodding, he threads his hands through his hair, and I hear his soft chuckle. “You’re welcome.”
I punch his arm. “I never said thank you.”
He laughs, trying to dodge my attack.
I shove him. “What was I some kind of project or something?”
Gone serious, the muscles in his face relax. “Hell no. I just noticed it today.” He shrugs. “I don’t want you sad, but I never looked at you as broken or something that needed to be fixed. Spending time with you is for me.” He smirks and melts my heart. “You’re pretty cool, and I can loosen up around you. I can’t do that around other girls, and I don’t want only guy friends.”
“Good, because I’m only totally hanging out with you to make you feel better,” I say smugly, feel
ing a little foolish. I can’t fight my smile.
He walks to me and wraps his arms around me. I wish he hadn’t.
I cuff my arm around his waist and, for the first time in years, place my face to his chest. His scent makes me lightheaded. “Thanks, Nate.”
“Aww,” a voice comes from beside us. “You two are such a cute couple. I wish I made up with my boyfriend that quickly.”
I break out of our hug to look at a woman, standing in a bikini, towel slung over her arm, a guy a few feet behind her. How long has she been watching us?
“Oh, no. We’re not together,” Nathan says. “She’s my new best friend.” He squeezes my shoulder.
I clear my throat and second him. “Yeah,” I croak.
“Well.” She flips her wet hair over her shoulder. “Cute nonetheless. Come on, Greg,” she yells behind her.
Greg, a short guy trailing behind her, waves her off.
Nathan and I continue strolling through the night, down the beach. We enjoy each other’s company, walking along the bank, and skipping rocks along the water. We chat about anything that comes to mind and get a little too comfortable in each other’s company. I’ve grown used to him as it seems he’s grown used to me.
We sit on the large rocks just beyond the beach and right beside the walkway of the pier. A frigid breeze tickles my nose, drawing my attention to the time. I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time. “We’ve been out for hours,” I say, stuffing it back in my pocket. “I better head home. It’s one in the morning.”
Nathan’s eyes widen. “Shit! Really?”
“Yeah.”
He stands and jumps off the rock, about five feet from the sand. It was a mission climbing up here. He lifts his arms. “Jump,” he encourages with a smile. “I’ll catch you.”
“I’m not jumping into your arms, Nate,” I say, adjusting myself to slide off the rock.
He purses his lips. “Too intimate, huh?”
I laugh. “Move out the way, goofball.”
We walk back to my car and I drop Nathan off at his apartment. Before he gets out, he calls me. The phone rings through the car. “Answer it,” he says.
I hit the answer button. “Yes?”
“Keep me on the phone on your drive home so I can keep you awake and make sure you get there safely.” He closes the door, and I watch him make it to the building of his apartment. “Drive, Tracey. I’m good.”
I pull away, and he keeps me on the phone until I pull in the driveway. “I’ve made it home safely. Good night, Nate.”
“Night, Tracey. I’ll call you in a few days, or you know, I don’t have to be the only one who makes contact first. Phones work both ways.”
I lean back on the seat and suck in a deep breath. I don’t want to wait a few days to talk to him again. “Mind if I call you when I get out of class tomorrow?”
“Go for it. Bye.”
“Bye, Nate.”
Fall for You
“What’s up with those bags under your eyes, Tracey?”
“Bags?” Shannon runs over to us, snatches me by my shoulders, and whips me around to face her. “Don’t tell me you got out of the house last night and did some partying!”
I shuffle out of her hands, and correct, “I didn’t. Just stayed up pretty late talking to a friend.”
“Oooh. Sounds to me like Tracey got her a swoon.” She pats her hips and flips her hair. Her excited smile tells me to reveal some kinky secret, but there’s nothing to tell. “I want to know all the juicy details!”
“All I can tell you two is, I’m ready to go home and pass out.”
They giggle, and Shannon adds, “Tracey was up all night with a hottie who blew her back out!” taking my little information to the next level. “Well, it’s about damn time you started getting some action, Tracey. Watching you mope around here was getting exhausting.”
I don’t know why I even played into their naughty thoughts. Sitting back on the barstool, I reopen my textbook. It’s slow as molasses today, so I pass the time outlining my Humanities essay due in a couple of weeks.
The door dings as someone enters. “Welcome in!” we say in unison.
“Oh,” Crystal chirps, “it’s just Tracey’s brother.”
I look over my shoulder. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath, hurrying to climb off the barstool and quickly cross the floor. Greeting Nathan, I coolly grab him by the arm, leading him back outside. “Hey. What’s up?” I ask.
“I can ask you the same thing. Why’d she call me your brother? Why are you in such a rush to get me out of there?”
I rake my hand through my tangled curls and rack my brain for a convincing lie. “They were already hassling me about hooking up with some guy last night. You popping up will have them thinking they have the answers to the top secret, ‘who had Tracey up all night, blowing her back out’ question.”
Squinting, he quips inquisitively, “Blowing her back out . . . ?”
I shake my head. “That’s literally what she just said.” I gesture to the door. “Sex is the only reason for these tired bags under my eyes.”
“Then you’re ashamed of people thinking I’m blowing your back out at two in the morning.” Turning down the corners of his mouth, he adds, “You don’t think I’m cute enough to sleep with and get your back blown out? Or don’t you think I’m capable of blowing your back out?” He smirks, denting a dimple in his cheek.
I bite back the way I would prefer to answer that question. Instead, I throw my palm against my forehead and roll my eyes. “You’re making this weird, Nate.” Chuckling, I meet his gaze and ask, “What do you want?”
“To surprise you. And . . .” he carries, and quickly spills. “I got you something, and I needed to show it to you immediately because I can’t keep secrets, although I’d wanted to give it to you this weekend.”
“Whoa.” I throw up my hand. “Slow down, Sonic.”
He pulls his backpack around his shoulder and drags out a medium-size square box. “Here. You need to open it right now.” I laugh at his anxiousness. He bounces on his toes and nearly snatches the top off the box for me. “Chocolate covered Twinkies!” he cheers. “Surprise!”
“Oh my gosh! I love Twinkies!” I exclaim, jumping on my toes.
“I know. You told me. And these”—he points—“are covered in chocolate. Keep digging and there’s one of those beaded bracelets you’re always looking at on other people. It’s green, something for healing. But,” he emphasizes, “the Twinkies are most important.”
I throw my arms around his neck and lay a kiss beneath his ear. I didn’t intend to, but it happened, and after my lips connected with his skin, I tried to make it quick and emotionless.
But when he draws back and avoids my eyes, I can tell he may know there’s love behind it.
He covers his falter. “Don’t eat those all at once, and you better save me one.”
“Of course,” I mutter. A hole’s growing in my stomach and sucking everything within me into it. “Thank you so much. This is perfect.”
“I can tell.” Throwing his backpack back on his shoulder, he asks, “What are you up to today? Mind if I steal you away. I want to check out that new action movie that came out last weekend, and I don’t want to go by myself.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll need to get my cousin to watch Jason.” I pull out my phone to text Olar, and remember that Little Nathan has the car. I wince. “You’ll have to give me a ride because I got dropped off.”
“What time are you off?”
“In about an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll stick around.”
I leave Nathan with my gift and my school bag so I can walk out the door when the clock strikes seven. I text Little Nathan and Carmen, letting them know I’ll be skipping out on our midnight study session to hang out with some friends instead. They are super okay with this, as they’ve both been trying to get me out of the house for a very long time.
Crystal and Shannon are okay with me s
kipping out on cleaning the shop. My only discontentment in tonight’s ventures is that I have to walk around smelling like ground coffee beans, which Nathan is so kind to point out when I get in his car.
“If you don’t mind, I don’t mind,” he says.
“I totally mind. But it’s okay. Let’s catch this three-hour movie.”
“Damn . . . Is it three hours?” He drives out of the parking lot, and around the corner to the movie theater. Over an extra-large bag of popcorn and an extra-large drink we stuff two straws in, we enjoy a movie we both are horrible at staying quiet while watching.
“I have something I need to confess,” Nathan says as we’re walking back to his car. His gleeful mood plummets, and heavy emotions shove his brows into an uneasy scowl. Hazel-brown eyes look away from me. Whatever it is, it’s got him down.
I don’t like it.
When we get in the car, I frown, asking, “What? What’s wrong? Tell me everything.”
“Mind if we go out to the fair? We’ve got about an hour before they finish playing.”
Without a care for the time, I nod, and stare at him the entire ride, eagerly waiting for him to reveal his sadness.
In the Tilt-A-Whirl, he props his feet up on the bar, and I sit beside him, closer than I usually would, as I figure that maybe he just doesn’t want to be alone while he’s dealing with whatever is bothering him.
“I saw my father for the first time today,” he says, nearly too low for me to hear.
I start to blurt, ‘Mr. Newcomb!’ but doubt it. I gasp, “What?” instead. “How’d this happen?”
“He’s all, I know I wasn’t there, and you had to grow up without a family. But I’m here now, and we can start from scratch. Then, we chatted for a bit. I’m willing to give anyone a chance. You know, never being too quick to judge.”
“Okay . . .”
“He coughs and he’s like, I’m dying and have been on the donor list for years and can’t find a match or it doesn’t work out.”
I jerk, snapping, “What the hell does he need you to donate?”
Nathan shrugs. “I didn’t even stay to find out. I got so angry, Tracey. And I don’t know why I allowed it to make me so mad. But damn, did I want to smash his face against the table, and just watch his blood pour from his nose and stain his face.” He clears his throat and nervously meets my eyes. “I don’t mean that literally. That could kill him, and I don’t mean I’d kill this guy.”
Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4) Page 14
