“It’s a figure of speech!” I snap. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to ask Lila to set me up with him again this year! Did he think he could finish what he started ten years ago?D-Bag Duncan strikes again?!”
“He did what?” Nate asks, voice dark.
When I glance over at him and see the ominous look on his face, I quickly backtrack. “Nothing! Nothing.”
His eyes narrow.
“Please don’t kill him,” I whisper. “He may be a douche, but he’s my best friend’s older brother. And it was about a million years ago. It doesn’t matter.”
“You still think about that night?” Nate asks intently. “Still remember being sad, getting your feelings hurt?”
Maybe, but not for the reasons he thinks I do. I don’t dwell on Duncan when I remember that night — instead, I remember how in love with Nate I was at fourteen. How much I wanted it to behim, slipping a corsage around my wrist, leading me out onto the dance floor. But I can’t say that now. Not without sounding like some kind of crazy person.
“Do you?” he prompts.
“Sometimes,” I admit, shrugging. “But—”
“Then it matters.” His voice is intent. “Someone hurts you, it matters. Always.”
Staring into his eyes, so bright with passion, I have to remind myself to breathe. The moment stretches on with our stares locked together, lengthening into something heavy and hard to swallow. He shifts on his stool, I sway on mine, and for a crazy instant I wonder what would happen if I leaned forward and closed the distance between us right here during dinner…
“Well, then.” Parker’s voice is wry as he interrupts the moment. Frankly, I’d forgotten he was still sitting there. “How ‘bout them Red Sox, huh?”
When I glance his way, cheeks flaming bright red, I see he’s fighting to hide a smile.
I can’t seem to formulate a single word, at the moment, so I take another bite of mashed potatoes and order myself not to think about eighteen-year-old Nate beating the shit out of my Sadie Hawkins date all those years ago. Because thinking that he was looking out for me back then, when I’ve spent years convincing myself he didn’t know I existed… when I’ve always thought I was totally invisible to him….
That may just make me fall even harder for him.
Thankfully, the conversation shifts as Nate and Parker begin a semi-heated debate about the new Sox pitcher. After a few minutes, I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten my existence…. until I feel Nate’s hand slide onto my thigh beneath the counter ledge, out of view. His grip is firm, but casual. Natural. Like he does it all the time.
I suck in a breath and try not to fall off my stool.
He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word. But his hand never moves for the rest of the meal.
***
The sound of the faucet drowns out Parker and Nate’s hushed conversation across the loft, which makes it nearly impossible to eavesdrop while I’m washing the dishes. So, I’m surprised I’m able to hear the slight buzzing of a cellphone against the wood counter on the other side of the kitchen.
Lured toward the sound like a moth to flame, I narrow my eyes when I see it’s the burner phone Tink gave me, its screen illuminated with an incoming call. A glance behind me shows the boys are still deep in conversation across the loft.
Before I have time to ponder all the reasons it’s a terrible idea, I lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Thought I told you to toss the burner phone.”
“Tink?”
“Listening isn’t your strong suit, huh?”
Sigh. “If you thought I’d tossed it, why bother calling at all?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.” I can almost hear her eyes rolling in their sockets. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“You barely know me!”
“I know enough.”