through his hair, taking its warmth away with it. "Well, shit."
"Sorry," I mumbled. I scrubbed a palm over my face, weary of myself. "I guess I should've said something earlier."
"No, no, it's-- it's fine. I mean, it's not something you'd really discuss with a guy you've only known for three days, right?" Nate said. His words were accompanied by a shaky laugh, but it clearly didn't belong in the conversation.
The rain had slowed considerably now, as though each raindrop was taking its time on its way down so it could stare at the trainwreck of my life as it passed by.
"Sorry," I said again, not entirely sure what I was apologizing for this time, or to whom.
"What do you want to do now?" he asked.
I sighed. "I don't know, man. I-- I don't know."
Nate gazed out into the street, where the remnants of the downpour were dripping off trees and streetlights desultorily. "Come on, let's walk."
He said nothing for the rest of our sojourn back to the resort, just stuffed his hands in his pockets while we walked side by side, letting me process whatever thoughts I needed to process.
We reached a fork in the pathway leading to the hotel rooms, and Nate took his hands out of his pockets, clutching his room key in his right.
"I'm, uh, going this way," he said, jerking a thumb in the opposite direction of my room.
"Okay," I said. "Goodnight."
"Night," he said.
He hesitated, pebbles jostling against one another underneath his feet, and then took a step forward, wrapping his arms around me in a reassuring hug, which made me feel worse than if he had simply slapped me in the face for whatever it was that I had done.
Had I been leading him on all this time? Certainly not intentionally; he was someone I just liked being around, hanging out with. He was someone I just... liked.
Nate clapped me on the shoulder, a sideways smile on his face. "See you around, Chicago," he said, and spun on his heel and walked away.
I watched him get swallowed into the distance before heading toward my own room, wet and squishy and a complete mess from the inside out.
Chapter Four
When people tell you that things look better in the morning, you should consider severing ties with them immediately, because they are lying to your face.
The only thing that definitively changed between the night before and the light of the morning sun was that I was drier. Which was nice, but I would've also appreciated being less confused. No amount of sunshine would help me be less me.
I showered and dressed slowly, unable to stop myself thinking about Nate, about kissing Nate, about how laughably cliched it was, the big romantic kiss in the rain -- someone definitely needed to make a movie about me. But then, if it was a movie, someone would have yelled cut long before Jeremy Renner-me had the chance to word-vomit all his baggage.
If it was a movie, the kiss would be the end of it, and we'd all leave the theater happy in the knowledge that Emory and Nate go on to lead deliriously happy lives filled with quippy banter and hot sex.
My insides tightened lushly into a corkscrew at the thought, and I resolved never to think of Nate and sex in the same sentence again.
I considered skipping breakfast, afraid to run into Nate, afraid of how much anticipation I'd harbor if I went and he wasn't there.
But I was supposed to be a better version of myself here, for at least this one week; I had come, fueled by spite and defiance, resolved to find the means to be the kind of person who could look heartbreak in the face and remain standing. And that kind of person wouldn't be afraid of a little continental breakfast.
Mustering up what little courage I had in reserve, I stepped out into the sun and went to get me some eggs.
He was there.
Our eyes met, and his eyebrows lifted, the mild expression on his face telling me that the ball was entirely in my court. I scooped it right up and strode over with my breakfast to his table, leaving my apprehension to tumble, anchorless, in the wind at my
"Sorry," I mumbled. I scrubbed a palm over my face, weary of myself. "I guess I should've said something earlier."
"No, no, it's-- it's fine. I mean, it's not something you'd really discuss with a guy you've only known for three days, right?" Nate said. His words were accompanied by a shaky laugh, but it clearly didn't belong in the conversation.
The rain had slowed considerably now, as though each raindrop was taking its time on its way down so it could stare at the trainwreck of my life as it passed by.
"Sorry," I said again, not entirely sure what I was apologizing for this time, or to whom.
"What do you want to do now?" he asked.
I sighed. "I don't know, man. I-- I don't know."
Nate gazed out into the street, where the remnants of the downpour were dripping off trees and streetlights desultorily. "Come on, let's walk."
He said nothing for the rest of our sojourn back to the resort, just stuffed his hands in his pockets while we walked side by side, letting me process whatever thoughts I needed to process.
We reached a fork in the pathway leading to the hotel rooms, and Nate took his hands out of his pockets, clutching his room key in his right.
"I'm, uh, going this way," he said, jerking a thumb in the opposite direction of my room.
"Okay," I said. "Goodnight."
"Night," he said.
He hesitated, pebbles jostling against one another underneath his feet, and then took a step forward, wrapping his arms around me in a reassuring hug, which made me feel worse than if he had simply slapped me in the face for whatever it was that I had done.
Had I been leading him on all this time? Certainly not intentionally; he was someone I just liked being around, hanging out with. He was someone I just... liked.
Nate clapped me on the shoulder, a sideways smile on his face. "See you around, Chicago," he said, and spun on his heel and walked away.
I watched him get swallowed into the distance before heading toward my own room, wet and squishy and a complete mess from the inside out.
Chapter Four
When people tell you that things look better in the morning, you should consider severing ties with them immediately, because they are lying to your face.
The only thing that definitively changed between the night before and the light of the morning sun was that I was drier. Which was nice, but I would've also appreciated being less confused. No amount of sunshine would help me be less me.
I showered and dressed slowly, unable to stop myself thinking about Nate, about kissing Nate, about how laughably cliched it was, the big romantic kiss in the rain -- someone definitely needed to make a movie about me. But then, if it was a movie, someone would have yelled cut long before Jeremy Renner-me had the chance to word-vomit all his baggage.
If it was a movie, the kiss would be the end of it, and we'd all leave the theater happy in the knowledge that Emory and Nate go on to lead deliriously happy lives filled with quippy banter and hot sex.
My insides tightened lushly into a corkscrew at the thought, and I resolved never to think of Nate and sex in the same sentence again.
I considered skipping breakfast, afraid to run into Nate, afraid of how much anticipation I'd harbor if I went and he wasn't there.
But I was supposed to be a better version of myself here, for at least this one week; I had come, fueled by spite and defiance, resolved to find the means to be the kind of person who could look heartbreak in the face and remain standing. And that kind of person wouldn't be afraid of a little continental breakfast.
Mustering up what little courage I had in reserve, I stepped out into the sun and went to get me some eggs.
He was there.
Our eyes met, and his eyebrows lifted, the mild expression on his face telling me that the ball was entirely in my court. I scooped it right up and strode over with my breakfast to his table, leaving my apprehension to tumble, anchorless, in the wind at my
Similar Books
