The Granger Girls ✓

Seven

N A T H A N

I attempt to have a conversation with Kate once we've finished. I can tell she's tired – her silver eyes are flickering as she fights to keep them open - but I need to know how she really feels when it comes to our relationship. This casual sex is driving me crazy: I need more, and she knows it.

"Kate?" I whisper. I move so that our bodies are touching again, then gently brush some dark hair off her ear. Even now, there's still a hint of her favourite perfume – Versace's "Crystal Noir" - lingering on her perfect skin.

Slowly, Kate turns to face me. A small, slightly suggestive smile plays on her lips.

"Yes, Nathan?" she whispers, fluttering her eyelashes. This action isn't deliberate – it's just her trying to keep her eyes open - but it makes my heart thump even harder than it already is. I swallow nervously. 

"How do you feel?" 

Kate chuckles, pulling the duvet up to her neck. The laugh she does when she's truly happy is a beautiful song, warm and sweet and capable of making all my insecurities vanish.

"What do you mean? I feel fine," she tells me, genuinely not understanding the deeper meaning of my question.

"I meant about us," I clarify. "How do you feel about us?" 

For a moment, I find myself caught in her eyes – silver and blue, with long lashes of raven black - before I shake out of it and move on to examining the other features of her face, a face I would stare at forever if I could.

Kate-Camille Rosemary Granger is anything but average, and she knows it. Her beauty is ethereal: she has long, silky waves of dark brown hair, a heart-shaped face, a dainty nose which is slightly upturned at the end, and the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. Her personality is sometimes undesirable, but to complain about that would make me a hypocrite: I'm hardly an angel myself. We're both self-serving and want a lot from the world, and we're both willing to play dirty to get it, breaking school rules and laws alike. I guess that's why we've been friends since we were toddlers, and best friends since we were nine. It's also why I know we'd make the perfect couple.

"Nathan, there is no us." Kate's words break me out of my trance. "We're friends with benefits. We have sex, you give me drugs, and we provide each other with company. I'm sorry, but there's nothing more to it than that. I've said this before; we agreed, remember?"

I sit up against the backboard of her bed and sigh. The white metal bars dig into me, but I ignore the physical pain, because the mental pain is so much worse. As I look forward, I spot a large grey teddy bear sat at the far end of the bed, its back against the wall, and remember how I bought it for her birthday – along with many other, more expensive gifts – when she turned thirteen years old. Even back then, I was desperate to impress Kate; I'm not sure how many years it's been since this hopeless crush began. When we had sex for the first time, I thought maybe things were finally going to go in the direction I'd been wanting, but as she just confirmed again, nothing's changed between us. There is still no "us."

"Dating is so pathetic," Kate has laughed to me on multiple occasions. "What does a person gain from it? Usually nothing but tears."

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" I continue our painful conversation.

Kate sits up now, so her face is level with mine once more. The duvet falls to her bare waist, but I don't look at anything other than her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," she insists, the tone of her voice indicating the opposite. "But look at yourself. You could have any girl you want, Nath. Don't let me hold you back."

I shake my head, shocked by Kate's apparent lack of understanding of how feelings work.

"That's not the point!" I cry. "I don't want any other girl! I only want you."

She lies back down, lets out a groan, and tugs the duvet and blanket back up to her chin.

"I'm too tired to argue with you now," she mutters. "Goodnight, Nathan. Let yourself out, I left the key in my blazer pocket. And make sure you get home before your parents notice you're gone."

"Goodnight," I say back, thinking about what she just said. She's right, I probably could have almost any girl I wanted, with my conventionally good looks, brown curls, and muscular, six-foot-two figure, but I've only ever wanted Kate: my best friend since primary school, the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and a girl who swore off dating before she was even old enough to do it. How cruel it is that the universe would wire me in this way, stubbornly longing for someone so far out of my league, someone it seems I'll never have no matter what. 

I look up at her bedroom ceiling. Tears fill my eyes, as I wonder if I could ever be truly happy without Kate as my girlfriend.

"Goodnight," I say again, but she doesn't hear me; she's asleep now, her eyes scrunched shut and her expression one of relaxation. I reach down, off the side of the bed, and grab my phone to check the time: it's 1:30AM. I then realise I didn't finish all my deliveries for the night, seeing as I unexpectedly ran into Kate and one thing led to another. It doesn't matter, though; a couple of wannabe hippies will just have to get their drugs a day late. It's no big deal, and I'm too tired to do it now.

Wannabe hippies, festivalgoers, and those with similar casual drug habits make up the majority of my customer base. There are few real addicts because the hardest thing I sell is some very poor-quality coke, never heroin or meth. That choice not to sell the hardest of drugs - the drugs that would make me the most money – was made not because I care about preventing addiction, but rather because I don't fancy serving life in prison if I one day get caught, and also because my drug dealing business is something I set up for fun, not with the hope of becoming the next El Chapo. Wandering the midnight streets, dropping off parcels of illegal goods at the houses of strangers is exhilarating in a way, and a total contrast to the calm, luxurious lifestyle that comes with being born into the kind of wealth my family has. The money I make from dealing is nothing more than a fun bonus; I don't need it, but not having to scrounge off my parents is nice.

I pull my clothes back on, and grab the key for the front door from Kate's discarded blazer as instructed. After planting a final light kiss on her cheek, I open the bedroom door to leave, then stop for a few seconds to listen for any movement from her parents. Deeming the coast clear, I tread carefully down the stairs, and slip back out into the night.

I walk home as quickly as possible, then get into the house via the back door. This leads me into the kitchen, and as it's completely dark, I use the torch from my phone to help guide myself towards the blue-carpeted stairs and into my bedroom. I'm careful to make my movements quiet; Mum and Dad have no idea about my midnight activities, with Kate or otherwise, and I would rather they never found out. Once in my room, I get into bed without bothering to change my clothes, and attempt to go to sleep. But my heart is still racing, my body is sweaty, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot get Kate's hauntingly beautiful face out of my mind...