The knot in my stomach finally unravels. My memory of last night has rushed back in its entirety. Every wonderful, albeit embarrassing detail.
"Yeah and then I left the note, locked the door, and slid the key under. You know, in case there were any creeps around who could've found you half-naked or something," Nate says from under the hood of his car. He's been working on it through his whole recap.
"So we didn't have sex." I can't pull back the smile stretching from ear to ear. "Thank god. That's such a relief."
Nate stops working, his eyes darting to me. "Um, ouch?"
My smile dissolves. "Oh, no I didn't mean it like that."
"You're relieved you didn't fuck me. Seems pretty clear cut."
"I'm not relieved because of you. I'm relieved because..." I freeze up, watching his interest grow from my hesitancy. "Nate, I've only kissed one guy before you."
He blinks, and I know I'm going to have to give him more than that. But I really, really don't want to have to spell this out.
"Only kissed."
I see the wheels turning behind his eyes, grinding to a stop when it clicks. "Oh. So you've never..."
I shake my head.
"With anyone?"
"No," I huff, my gaze following a kid riding past on their bike. I have a weird out of body moment, seeing myself standing here all rigid and tense in Nate Miller's driveway, confessing my virginity status to him. How did I end up here?
"Wow, that's... surprising."
I shoot him a look.
"Not in a bad way, you just, uh..." He unsuccessfully bites back a smile. "You really seemed to know what you were doing, that's all."
My faces floods with heat. "I was just drunk. I never know what I'm doing. Like, with anything. Pretty much on a daily basis."
He laughs, tossing a wrench into the toolbox on the ground. "If you say so."
"Really, I wasn't myself last night. I don't even usually go to parties, you know? That's the first one I've been to in forever, and I only went for one reason and when that reason left—" I cut myself off.
I've reached the next part of this. The sweeping under the rug part. And after remembering the night with Nate, it's going to be harder than ever to pick up that broom.
"What reason was that?" he asks.
I dig the tip of my sneaker into a grassy crack in the pavement. "Matt Benson. I went to the party for him because we're sort of... together."
A stretch of silence drifts between us for a moment.
"Benson? Really?" I'm not looking at him, but his voice sounds downright fascinated.
I meet his intent eyes. "Yes, really. You think there's something wrong with him?"
He shrugs. "Just doesn't seem like your type."
"You don't know my type."
"Well, I couldn't be more different from that guy, and since you were all over me..."
He laughs when I shove his arm. He's so sure of himself, and my eagerness last night certainly didn't do that ego any favors.
"People are complex, Nate. You can't honestly tell me you've been into the same type of girl your whole life."
"All right, fair enough." He loosely crosses his arms over his chest. "So if you're with Matt then I'm guessing you regret what happened with us and you wanna forget about it, right?"
"No. Well, actually yes. I mean, I don't regret it, but... is it okay if we keep this between us? I know this makes me a crappy person and I'm sorry I didn't mention Matt, it's not official or anything. We've only got our first date tonight but if he found out about this—"
"Lia, it's okay." He holds my shoulders. "It was one night. We messed around, it was fun, but that's all it has to be if that's what you want. You're not in love with me, right?"
"What? Of course not!"
"Great, well I'm not in love with you either. So we can leave last night right there, and you can go on your date. No harm, no foul."
"Really?"
"Sure. We can just start on a clean slate as friends who have surf lessons. If you're still down for that?"
"Yeah... totally."
He gives me a reassuring smile before he walks over to the driver's side of the car, slipping into the seat with the door open. His laidback reaction has thrown me a little. I was expecting some pushback. Any indication of being bothered by me essentially asking last night to be buried for another guy. But his completely ideal reaction has only confirmed my slot in his rebound phase.
I should be happy, but I'm not. Maybe I just wanted him to like me enough to want more, and maybe that's just not how these things work in the real world.
Nate starts up the car and gives it a few loud revs. If normal engines purr then this thing sounds like the world's oldest cat.
"Nate!"
I look around for the drowning voice shouting at him, finding the same girl who shouted at him after our brothers' fight. He lets the car idle when he notices her waving from the front door.
"Cut it out! You're disturbing the whole neighborhood!"
"It was making a weird noise!" he retorts. "I had to test it!"
"You're gonna be making a weird noise if—" she abruptly ends the screaming match, her fuming stare having fallen on me. Nate gets out the car when she jogs over.
She looked like him from afar, but up close it's even more clear. From the prominent cheekbones to the exact same shade of green in her eyes, but her shoulder-length hair isn't curly like his, and her porcelain skin doesn't have a trace of a single freckle.
Her annoyed expression has flipped to warmth with her toothy smile. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Lia," he grumbles. "Lia, this is my deranged sister Elizabeth."
She elbows him so hard in the gut that he doubles over with a grunt. "It's Lizzy."
"Hi," I say, watching Nate painfully straighten up.
"What brings you by, Lia?"
"Oh, I just, um... had to ask Nate something about school."
His eyes shut, and hers get bright. I've obviously said the wrong, most implausible thing.
"School," Lizzy repeats, turning to him. "How long did you think you could hide a new girlfriend, huh? It's about time, anyway. If I had to hear one more word about—"
"She's not my girlfriend," Nate presses through clenched teeth.
"Really?" Lizzy looks at me. "Because if you wanna come inside, I just took a coffee cake out of the oven, and I can totally show you all of his baby photos. Privileged for a girlfriend's eyes, of course. There's a classic one at the beach where he's running around naked and crying because a crab was stuck on his ass—"
Nate swings his arm around her shoulders and claps his hand to her mouth. "Jesus fucking Christ."
I let out a laugh as he steers her back to the house, all while she's muffling under his hand. He releases her on the front steps, arguing under his breath before he makes his way back.
"Bye, Lia!" She gives a happy wave. "Nice meeting you!"
I wave back, giggling at Nate's glowing face.
"That was all bullshit, she's just trying to embarrass me."
"Looks like it worked."
He rolls his eyes. "What can I say? It's her specialty."
I chew at the inside of my cheek as I watch him pack the toolbox. "Um, before we put this all behind us, I want to thank you."
"For?" He sets the box by the garage door, his inattentive demeanor shifting into focus as soon as he sees my expression.
I push away the invasive image of Carter grabbing my arm. "I might be inexperienced, but I'm not ignorant. I know a lot of guys in your position last night would've blown past the fact that I was drunk and just done whatever they wanted. Especially since I was kind of persistent. So, thanks for not being one of those guys."
A look of understanding settles over his features, and he just softly nods and squeezes my shoulder like, it's messed up you have to thank me for that. And I feel bad because before this past week, I would have assumed that Nate was one of those guys.
As he shuts the hood of his car, I'm estimating the walk home to be about ten minutes. Ten minutes until I can raid the fridge and eat something to ease this hangover, aside from the aspirin Rachel gave me.
"C'mon," Nate cuts into my food daydreams, nodding to the passenger door. "Let's go."
"Go where?"
He glances at the tip of a surfboard sticking out the backseat window. "Think it's about time for your first lesson, don't you?"
〰️〰️〰️
I watch Nate smack the gearshift with force when it gets stuck, his knees briefly holding the wheel. His other hand is hanging out the window with a cigarette between his fingers. Despite the distraction, he's a far better driver than Blake.
He takes a drag and blows the smoke outside before he notices me watching him. "Don't even think about asking to try one of these," he says curtly. "Weed's one thing, but this shit will have you hooked. Worst habit in the world."
"So why do you do it?"
"Because fifteen-year-old me was the stupid idiot who started."
"Then you should try quitting."
"I did for a while, but I ran right back. You could say it's my most toxic relationship." A bitter smile crosses him. "And that's beating out a couple of solid contenders, so, that should say it all. Just... never start smoking."
"Wasn't planning on it."
I wonder if the relationship he recently got out of falls into that toxic category. I wonder a lot of things about him. It's a strange feeling - having kissed someone and barely knowing anything about them. I guess some people prefer it that way, like Rob. He'd rather gouge his eyes out than get to know a girl before a hook up.
But now that I've kissed Nate, all I want to do is page through his mind and soak in all the hidden details. I felt the same way about Sean back when we kissed, but I think Nate would be a far more interesting read.
The beach parking lot is unsurprisingly swarming for a Saturday. Once Nate has changed into his wetsuit, we walk along the sand until we reach a quieter section. I'd be more nervous about this lesson if I was actually getting in the water. Nate says he'll have to organize a wetsuit for me, and I can borrow one of his boards, but for today he'll just show me 'land basics.' Whatever that means.
"It means you're gonna be prepared when you get in the water next time," he says, digging a shallow hole in the sand. He lays down his board with the fins above the hole, making it level. "All right, first thing's first, you put on the leash."
"Leash? Like a dog leash?"
"Yes, DeMarco, I'm going to make you wear a dog leash in the sea," he drawls. "No not a dog leash, you weirdo. A human leash. For your ankle."
I roll my eyes. "Could have just said that."
He pats the board for me to stand on, securing the leash in place. "So this is to keep the board from getting away. Stops it from hitting other people in the water if you wipe out, easy to grab if a current sweeps you off. Whatever. The leash saves you a lot of trouble."
He squeezes my ankle, and I don't know why, but that action suddenly makes me think this was a bad idea. Being so close to him, being alone with him. What was I thinking? I should have gone home. I should have let last night breathe. Nate had been just as intoxicating as the alcohol, and it may have left my system, but he hasn't. Being here with him isn't helping.
He looks up and asks me to lie on the board. I could make an excuse and bolt, but I don't want to. I'm already here, and I want this to work. I want to be his friend.
Nate lies on his stomach next to me and shows me how to paddle, demonstrating the best way to stand, or pop up, without losing balance. He watches me closely when I try it, giving a hum.
"Spread your legs."
My knees almost buckle. "W-What?"
"On the board. Your legs should be further apart." He grins a knowing grin, tapping his foot on my calf. "But I like where your mind went."
Just friends, just friends, just friends.
We run through the motions again and again. Lying down, pretending to paddle, standing up. Every time he adjusts my position is torture. Holding my waist, my shoulders, my elbows, bending my knees. He seems oblivious to the effect his touch is having on me, and I let out a sigh of relief when he goes off into the water.
He told me to watch his movements out there, and I do for a while until I get distracted by shells sticking out of the wet sand.
I hear Nate's feet padding over. "Were you paying attention at all?"
"I was, but I thought I saw a butterfly one."
"What?"
"You know, those butterfly shells," I say, tossing the unremarkable shells I've gathered back to the ground. "I found one once but it was broken in half. I've always wanted one."
"Oh, the coquina clams?" He sets his board down, unzipping his sticking wetsuit. "Yeah they're everywhere on the coast but not really Oceanview beaches. Hardly ever see them."
He peels off the top of his wetsuit and I swallow hard. We were in the shadows last night, but now, standing under a dazzling sun with a stone cold sober head, the sight of the lean and muscular slab in front of me has my mouth watering.
"You hungry?"
"What? No," I stammer, my eyes flying to his, but he's looking up the stretch of the beach. My stomach grumbles like it's shouting at me to correct myself. "Actually, yeah. I could eat."
"Cool, because I've been craving a Shelly's burger since I woke up," he says, picking up his board. "Best hangover cure in town."
My breath catches when he walks in front of me. On his left side, a huge, crescent scar travels from the middle of his shoulder blade to the top of his hip. It's pale white, but thick and jagged. How did I not see that last night? I guess I was pretty distracted, but still.
Then I remember - I felt it. When he was on top of me, my fingers had brushed over something raised. That was it.
I get my legs to move and follow him up the beach, my eyes trained on that scar with every step.
˚ˑ━━━━━━━༄ؘ༄ؘ༄ؘˑ━━━━━━━ˑ˚
a/n: please remember to tap the ★ and vote!