He leaned forward, peering into my eyes. Then he sat back so quickly, his eyes flaring wide, that I thought he’d fall off the stool. “Cat. Catherine? Katie?”
“Um. I guess? Yes?”
“You’re Katie. Katie Mitchell. Towered over all the boys at camp since fourth grade.”
I nodded again, my mouth dropping open.
“And kissed Nathaniel West behind the shed when you played Seven Minutes In Heaven in sixth grade.”
I cocked my head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. That hair, and those cheekbones, except much thinner and way more muscled….Holy shit.
Nate. Nathaniel. Nathaniel West. The fat kid who was six inches shorter than me and had to use an inhaler every time he crossed the soccer field. Nathaniel West, who I’d French-kissed on a dare behind the shed in sixth grade. Who was sitting in front of me right now, a gleeful grin on his face, and totally smoking hot.
Thank God all this ran through my head in about two seconds. I recovered my wits, closed my mouth, and said, “Nathaniel! From Camp Eagle!”
He stepped off the bar stool, still looking at me with those intense eyes, and stretched his arms out for a hug. And then, I stepped into his arms and was completely lost. Hell if his chest wasn’t all solid, curving muscle, and his arms wrapped me in a cage of the same. And the way he smelled—not like beer and a second-day shirt, but the way a guy should smell—like aftershave and gum in his jacket pocket and a little beer on his breath. Which had never seemed sexy to me until right this minute.
A minute which, I couldn’t help but notice, went on a little longer than a hug between old camp friends usually lasted. A hug that ended in his fingers giving me a little extra squeeze at my waist.
I looked up at him—why did I pull my head away from his chest, was I a moron?—and he stepped back, still looking steadily into my eyes. “Katie Mitchell,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I had to come all the way across the country to see hot Katie from camp.”
Hot Katie? “Well, it’s Cat now, anyway. And now you’re the hot one.” My hand flew up over my mouth. Had I honestly just said that?
Nate looked down at his shoes and I could swear I saw some pink color his cheeks in the dim light. My Lord, that jaw was irresistible. And that dimple—sweet Jesus, he had a dimple. How many things had I not noticed in sixth grade?”
“Yeah, I guess I just lost a lot of baby fat. And, uh…yeah. Worked out a lot in college. It’s not important.”
The soft sound of a jazz drum slithered through the air, and I snapped my head up, beyond happy for the interruption. “Music. Uh…” Great. Now I couldn’t even speak.
“We could dance,” he said softly, catching my eyes with his.
“Yeah. We should definitely do that.” I reached down for my purse, but before I could get my wallet, Nate had dropped two twenties on the table.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“No, no,” he said, reaching back for my hand as he turned toward the stairs. “Where I come from, a guy always pays for the first date.”
Chapter 7
On our way down the stairs, I tried to swallow the shock of what Nate had just said. He was Nathaniel West. Who I’d made out with at camp in sixth grade. And now he was gorgeous. And we were on a date.
And basically, my only other thought was this: I just really wanted to rip his clothes off. To be fair, I told myself, after feeling those pecs against my cheek it was only natural to see what kind of abs were just below them.
Oh my God. I was actually crazy. And really horny. But also, he was cute. Very, very cute. And very much flirting with me.
We got down to the dance floor just as the little jazz trio was starting to play. A low, brassy trumpet tone eased out over the drums in a slow, sleepy rhythm. Nate pulled me into his arms and started to sway. The dark of the room and the clinking glasses in the background combined with the music gave me a heady feeling. Even though I was wearing a chunky sweater and jeans and ballet flats, it made me feel like I was in one of the noir movies where the heroine has perfectly placed, gigantic curls, red lipstick, and round-toed pumps.
I felt beautiful. Maybe Dr. Albright’s suggestion had worked after all.
Thank God, Nate didn’t bring up the subject of camp again. Or me posing naked. Maybe he could tell that I really didn’t know how to respond. He told me about why he transferred here—he could focus on a different area of engineering at Drexel, and also he was sick of his dad—and about how he’d grown out of his asthma and started running. “Didn’t start quite early enough with soccer or basketball, but track and field was always looking for people at my high school. I actually did the bodybuilding thing for a year or so, and was a personal trainer my second year in college.”
Well, that explained the pecs.
“I wish I could work out,” I said. “But…”
“The surgery. Yeah.”
My heart fluttered in my chest, but not the good kind of flutter. “How do you know about my surgery?”
“Oh.” He laughed, then touched his forehead to mine, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You know. The scar.”
Just like that, my bubble burst. I wasn’t in an elegant club where I was the beautiful girl and the gorgeous boy wanted me. I was a pathetic gimp with an ugly purplish-pink scar up my shin who wouldn’t be able to dance too much longer without it starting to throb.
I forced a laugh. “My horse gave me a few things when I visited my dad last Thanksgiving. A broken tibia, two surgeries, and sixty pounds.”
“And a piece of his mind, I guess.” He didn’t even flinch at the “sixty pounds.” It was like he hadn’t even heard it. Maybe he hadn’t.
“Yes, a piece of his mind.” Again, I tried to force a laugh, but I couldn’t help but stare at my feet at the same time. When I thought about the accident, I couldn’t help it. Sadness flooded every part of me.
“Oh, hey. Oh, I’m sorry. Cat. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
“No, it’s no big deal.” I looked down, trying to avoid his eyes. “Things are just really different since then, you know? That asshole Jake snubbed me, and I can’t model anymore, so I’m freaking broke.”
We swayed there for a few more seconds, while I tried to let the swelling piano chords distract me from the spiral I was staring down at. But then something else distracted me. That familiar shooting pain in my shin that was finally catching up with me. Being with Nate had almost made me forget that I wasn’t normal.
But now it all came hitting me in the face. I was suddenly very conscious of the cushion of fat on my hip that his hand caressed, and the way my belly fat bulged over the top of my waistband.
Nothing had changed about Nate, but I suddenly couldn’t stand this dance floor any more. “And now,” I said lamely, “my leg is killing me. Okay if we head out?”
“For sure,” he said, drawing his eyebrows together in a concerned expression.
We headed off the dance floor, and when his hand skimmed the small of my back, where I knew the sides of it were plump around my spine, I walked just quickly enough to move away from it.
In the cab on the way home, Nate made comments about the architecture of the city, from the beautiful skyscrapers to the genius—or failure, depending on the area—of the highway system. I wracked my brain, fighting to pull out the names of restaurants to recommend. But most of my brain was occupied with not having a panic attack.
The crazy thing was, it wasn’t anything Nate had done wrong. The problem was that being there at that restaurant, eating junk and drinking beer, and dancing with a hot guy, totally confident, like I was my old self, just scared me. I didn’t know how to be the girl I wanted to be, the girl I used to be. Especially in this body that didn’t look, feel, and move like it used to.
And I never would again.
We crossed the bridge over the expressway, and drove by the train station, under the arch welcoming us to Temple. I gave the cabbie directions to my place. Nate
was talking about one of his classes, which I wasn’t really following. And then one of his sentences ended in, “which is how I saw you naked.”
Well, that certainly brought me back. I snapped my gaze to his. “I thought that would get your attention,” he grinned. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Why were you…um…in that class again?”
His eyes captured mine. “I want to focus more on engineering for architecture. The beauty of a well-designed building is not that far off from the beauty of the human body.” His eyes swept down over me, and I fidgeted, trying to find a way to sit that didn’t make me feel…well…huge.
The cab slowed to a stop. I dug in my purse, but Nate brushed his fingers against my hand. He handed the cabbie a twenty, saying, “Keep the change.”
When I reached for my handle and looked up to thank him, he’d already slid out of his seat and jogged around to my door. He opened it and held his hand down to me.
I couldn’t help the smile creeping across my face. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You said your leg hurt. And remember,” he said as he waved the cabbie off, “this is my thing. I pay on dates.”
I motioned toward my apartment and started walking. Date. He couldn’t have meant it was a real date. Even though we did have dinner, and dancing, and…
“I hope you don’t mind I walk you to your door. This is usually a pretty awkward moment, but since I’ve already seen you naked…”
“And kissed me.” I smiled.
“That’s right! And kissed you. What is that, like, nine years ago now?” He ran his hand back through his hair, making it stand even more on end. In that second, the only thing I wanted was to push my hands through it too. “So, no awkwardness here. For example, when I kiss you, it won’t even be a big deal, because it’s not like it’s the first time or anything.”
I should have let it happen. Should have let him lean in and capture my mouth with his. But damn me, I couldn’t. Instead I had to try to be funny. “I was thinking you wouldn’t take a girl out for burgers with onions if you didn’t want to kiss her.”
“Oh,” he said, winking. “You have to have burgers with onions on a first date.”
I laughed. “Okay, that just makes no sense.”
“What do you mean? It makes perfect sense. See,” he said, walking a few steps past me then turning to face me when I stopped in front of my place, “If I don’t like you, and I don’t want to kiss you, onion breath is a good excuse to skip the kiss. But if I do like you, and kissing you is the only thing I can think about, the onion breath won’t matter at all.”
But he didn’t lean in. Didn’t lick his lips, or look at mine. I could only think of one thing to say. “Well, um…Thanks.” The edges of my vision blurred and sparkled. “So I guess I'll see you...” My speech stopped dead in my mouth. What the hell was I supposed to say? I’ll see you next time I’m naked in your art class, trying to keep my belly from rolling onto my hip?
Except I didn’t think I would ever go back to that art class. Mental health be damned, that was too stressful.
"I’m really glad I got to spend some time with you, while you had your clothes on. Not that I mind it when you have your clothes off. I mean...oh shit.” He ran his hand through his hair again and gave me one of those heart-twisting smiles. “I’m sorry."
Sorry was the last thing he should have been. The more bumbling he did, the wider my grin got. I snuck glances at him as he stood there, fidgeting trying to shake off the sharp autumn cold that was just starting to curl through the air. The space between our shoulders was just the right distance to make me think he wanted to be closer to me, and at the same time, to make me question everything.
I glanced up at the house. Not a single light on. The girls must all have gone out or crashed early—not too difficult for a small sorority with only forty girls in the house.
A footstep would have closed the gap between us, and the clouds of our breath mingling between us reminded me of that. Something had changed from a few seconds ago, something in the feel of the space between my beating heart and his. I looked up to find that Nate was looking down at me—down at me—and into my eyes.
I'd never seen eyes so full of want before. And they were fixed right on mine. Not on my boobs, or even my lips. On my eyes. On me.
“Well, Thanks for—”
“I'm so glad we—”
Our words collided, just like our breath, ending in a cluster of soft, nervous laughter.
His eyes still met mine with so much intensity, more than I’d ever seen before.
“I’m glad you were crying. I mean, I’m glad I met you. After class. And in the class was great too, I just...”
“You’re welcome.” I grinned, capturing my bottom lip in my teeth for a moment. “Thanks for...making me smile. It’s been awhile, and I appreciate it.”
“Well, if that’s what I’m good for.” He cracked a grin.
“Oh, I’m sure you're good for much more than that.” Nate's left eyebrow darted up for a split second, just long enough to know that he’d heard the double meaning in my words. And maybe thought I meant it.
I definitely did mean it, even if I didn’t mean to say it.
That intensity was back in his eyes. His voice was perfectly steady and so sexy-husky when he said, “Please tell me you’re going to let me kiss you.”
A grin flooded my face before I could hold it back. I closed that gap between us with a half a step, and held my face up to his. He reached up, cradling my jaw in his warm hand. And then, his lips captured mine, moving against them cautiously and like he’d been desperate to do it all at once. The kiss was warm and soft and let me taste enough of him to drive me absolutely crazy. I’d never felt like this with Jake. With anyone. And it made me wonder if I even knew who I was anymore.
That was just it. I had no clue who I was anymore. And I loved it. His fingers threaded back through my hair as he pulled away and pressed back in for more. His breath was the best thing I’d ever tasted, and I’d be damned if the pain in my leg—as I pushed up on my tiptoes to get even more of him—would stop me. I whimpered as I let my hands rest on either side of his face, and flicked my tongue against his lower lip. His right hand dropped, and for a split second I thought he was going to stop kissing me, and that I’d probably die. But then it slipped down to my waist, clutching me there, pulling me so close that I could feel the telltale hardness right through his jeans, telling me just how much he was enjoying this. With a low groan, he pressed in, letting his tongue stroke mine, each movement making me want more.
I didn't know whether I wanted to go weak in the knees, or tackle him and strip him right there on the sidewalk.
Neither was a particularly great option, so I kissed him even harder, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth. He sighed into my mouth, and I was in heaven and hell at the same time. His lips drifted down my jaw and kissed a hot trail down my throat, and I whimpered, pressing my body into his even more.
But then, suddenly, inexplicably, it ended, and he pulled away from me. I rested back on my heels, keeping my forehead pressed against his, gasping for breath.
“That was....Jesus, Cat. You’re gonna kill me.”
I didn’t know if he was asking to come up to my room with me, but suddenly, it was all I could think about. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, everywhere.
That was, until I actually thought about what that meant. Nate, the sexiest guy I’d ever kissed, made of hard muscle, touching my flab.
But there was something stronger, an undeniable need to be closer to him, that quickly covered that thought. I wanted him, even if it meant I had to keep the lights out and the covers pulled up. With the way he made me feel when he kissed me, I’d do pretty much anything to be closer to him.
“Don’t die on the street,” I managed between breaths. “Come upstairs.”
A low groan escaped his throat. “Dammit, Cat.”
“What? Stay.”
“I can’t.”
All the air rushed out of my body.
And then he said: “I mean, I don’t want to.”
Tears pricked at my eyes for the second time that night, threatening to spill out. “Right, yeah, I get it.” I dropped my hand from his, thinking for a moment that it was a shame that our hands fit so well together, that his chest felt so addictive pressing up against mine. It was a shame because I’d never be able to get it out of my head. “Well, still. Thanks.” I turned to go inside, lowering my gaze. I didn’t want him to see the hurt on my face, and just as importantly, I didn’t want to trip on that pesky flagstone on my way in and embarrass myself, or hurt my leg, even more.
His hand caught mine. “Cat, no. No, it’s not like that. I know what you’re thinking. That guy who dumped you? He’s an idiot.” He tugged my arm gently until I turned back around to face him. “There are very few things I would like more than sleeping with you right now. But I just…can’t.”
I wanted to believe his words were true, but at the same time I realized they made absolutely no sense. Either he wanted me, or he didn’t. The various pieces of the evening, beautiful and confusing and terrifying, swirled through my head and jumbled together in a mix I couldn’t sort out. I didn’t know what was up or down anymore.
The only thing I knew was that if I didn’t go inside—didn’t get away from this beautiful guy who claimed he wanted me but wouldn’t come in—I would throw my arms around his waist, drag him inside, and not give him a choice.
So I said the only thing I could think of. “Thank you.” Then I turned to go inside. He sighed deeply as I carefully made my way up the stairs. Just as I was jiggling my key in the lock, he finally spoke up. “Hey!” he called. “I don’t have your number!”
I looked down at him, with his muscled shoulders slumped and his face looking drawn and sad. “If you really want it, you’ll find it.” And then I went inside, shutting the door on him before he could confuse me even more.
I trudged into the bathroom, washed my face, and popped four extra-strength Tylenol. I stretched out on my bed and rolled my ankle, sucking in air at the nagging, dull pain that metal rods and screws made when they were forced to live next to bones.
Picture Perfect Page 5
