Author's note: Oh my goodness, thank you SO MUCH to to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm really touched that you guys heard my pleas of desperation. I hope you all like this chapter!
Chapter 7
The next morning, when we're scraping posters off columns at the community center, I see Nathan and Curtis talking. I quickly surmise that yesterday he must have gone to talk to him about the "Sam" crisis, and was now asking follow up questions.
"That's really annoyin', y'know," Kelly, who's working across from me, says suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"You're always lookin' at 'im all wistful-like. You should just tell 'im that you fancy 'im and let that be that," she advises sagaciously.
"I am not going to do that," I reply in disbelief.
"Suit yaself," she shrugs, "But you'd both be better off. It's frustratin' ta see ya both like this. The sexual tension is killin' me."
"There is no sexual tension," I scoff. I think perhaps I've never told a more blatant lie, and she knows it.
"Wotevah."
Simon runs off suspiciously, and soon after Nathan randomly bursts out saying, "D'you hear that?"
There is absolutely no unusual noise, and we all look at him strangely.
"Hear what?" I reply.
"A baby crying," he answers softly.
I furrow my brow in confusion, as does everyone else.
"Wot are ya talkin' about?" Kelly demands.
He doesn't answer, but abruptly runs into the community center. We wait a minute, before I ask, "Should we follow him?"
"Nah," Curtis dismisses.
Another moment later, Simon comes running out. We all look at him expectantly, but I know it's got something to do with Nathan.
"I think I've just seen Nathan stealing a baby," he announces.
Now this, I have to see. We quickly walk inside, Simon leading the way.
"Why would he take a baby?" Alisha wonders aloud.
"If he gets caught, he's screwed," Curtis chimes in. "Call the prick!" he orders me.
I quickly take out my phone and scroll through my contacts. Sure enough, there he is, entered in as "Nathan the sexiest man on earth." He must have taken my mobile without my knowledge. I put the phone to my ear and it goes straight to his voicemail.
"It's turned off," I tell everyone.
"We need ta find 'im," Kelly says.
Curtis and I lead the group, and eventually we spot him standing a story above us. Sure enough, he's holding a baby… And… singing to it?
"What's he doin'?" Curtis demands. We all rush off to get to him before he can do anything stupid – like drop the baby over the ledge.
When we finally reach him, I shriek, "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Hey, there's no need for language like that," he reprimands, covering the baby's ears. "Don't listen to her, that's a very bad word and she should know better."
"You're acting like a psychopath!" I exclaim in disbelief.
"Give us the baby," Curtis instructs calmly.
"You're not taking him!" Nathan protests, clutching the little boy to his chest. "He needs me!"
"I think he's gone mental," says Simon.
"I think you're right," I agree solemnly. There's no other explanation for his behavior.
"That baby," Kelly says suddenly, "'e's got a power. 'E's makin' you fink you're the dad."
"He needs a dad. I know what that's like." Oh God… This isn't going anywhere pretty. "My dad was never around," he continues, "Look at what it did to me… I'm gonna be his daddy."
I don't think my jaw could drop further than it already has. "You?" I demand in disbelief.
"You're gonna be its dad?" Curtis asks.
"You're 'omeless," snaps Kelly, "You're livin' in the community center."
"You've got no money, no job," Curtis continues.
"You're poor," says Alisha.
"You act like a child yourself," I pipe in.
"And you've got a criminal record," Simon finishes.
"You can't even look after yourself," I say.
"Social services is gonna take one look at you," Curtis quips.
"Seriously, the kid deserves better, way better," Alisha states.
"Him and his mum can come and live with me at the community center," he says, completely delusional. "I can get free food from the vending machines. I'll steal booze from the kitchen, I'll steal from other babies, I'll go to the park and forage for nuts and berries!"
Jesus Christ. I would have laughed if the situation were not so serious. We can do nothing but look at him in horror. However, by some miracle, his expression changes abruptly and he seems to snap out of whatever trance he'd been in. He looks down at the baby in shock and disgust.
"Why am I holding this baby?" he wonders, stretching his arms out. We all take a step forward, preparing for the worst. "I'm not bein' sexist, but one of you girls needs to take this off me before I drop it on its head."
I step forward and eagerly take the baby from his arms. Crisis averted. When I touch him, I feel that he's desperately missing his mum. "It's all right," whisper, "We're taking you to her…"
We walk back inside the community center, and the distraught mother comes running. "Why have you got my baby?" she demands in terror, taking him from my arms.
"Did you take him?" she angrily accuses Nathan.
"No, no," he stutters.
"You stay away from him, alright! You stay away from him!"
"Chill out, he didn't take him!" I interject. "We found him outside, we were just bringing him back! Look, he's fine."
She inspects her child and sadly asks, "Why do you keep crawling off? Hm? Even he thinks I'm a shit mum, it's as if I'm not enough for him…"
"You should take him to see his dad," Nathan pipes in.
"Yeah, well he's not interested."
"Trust me," he continues, "As soon as he sees him, he'll want to be his dad again. I promise you."
The woman smiled. "Yeah, well thanks for bringing him back," she said.
When they were gone, Nathan turns to me and says, "Well, that was weird as fuck."
"You're telling me… I never want to see you like that. Ever again."
"Yeah, you're not the only one… I don't know what came over me – I can't even remember it."
"That's probably for the best."
We were both silent for a moment.
"So I know you said no to a drink," he starts slyly, "But what if I take you up on that dinner option?"
I had been clear about it being all right, so I couldn't exactly go back on my offer now. I hadn't really expected him to take me seriously, though… "Erm, sure."
"Brilliant! What are you cooking?"
"Hm… How about pasta... How does fettuccine alfredo sound?"
"Whoa, slow down there, Gordon Ramsay. That's pretty fancy."
I smirk. "Well I am half Italian…"
"Are you? You don't look it."
He's right, I suppose. My skin is very pale and I've got blue eyes. "I've got brown hair," I try. "And I did say only half. My last name's Marino – doesn't get much more Italian than that."
"Your parents named you Marnie Marino? That's fucking cruel. You sound like a mafia princess."
He's right, my name is unfortunate. But I've learned to deal with it. "They could have named me Marina Marino," I reason.
"Is that even worse? I can't decide…"
On our way home, he asks, "So your mum taught you how to cook then, did she?"
"Not exactly. My dad's the one who was Italian, not my mum. My mum can't cook shit, so I was always the one in charge of doing that sort of thing. I never minded, though. It's relaxing. But I don't usually have time for it." I looked at him and saw that he was obviously not listening.
"So this," he starts abruptly, "Is this like – a date?"
"No," I scoff, not elaborating any further. To be entirely honest, I don't know what this is supposed to be. But I certainly can't let him think it's a date, that much I do know.
Soon, we're at my flat. Nathan stands at the small island in the kitchen, looking around the room and watching me cook. I don't ask for his help because I know he'll just get in the way.
"How d'you afford this place?" he asks, "Do you have a job?"
"My mum gave me some money when she kicked me out, but it's gonna run out soon… Then, I'll have to find a job, I suppose. As you can see, this place isn't exactly expensive. I'm sure I can work as a barmaid or something."
"Huh."
"Do you want a drink?" I ask as I open the fridge.
"What've you got?"
"White wine," I say.
"Classy! Alright, I'll have a bit. When in Rome, as they say…"
I take out two glasses and pour the wine into them.
"So," I say slowly, handing him his glass, "Is it true, what you said?"
"What?" he asks.
"About your dad not being around…"
His pained expression tells me that he doesn't remember admitting this to everyone. He gathers his thoughts, before saying, "So what if it is?" His tone is different than it usually is – tougher, more bristly. This is one of only times I have ever seen him serious. It's a bit scary, the way his demeanor has changed so abruptly. I can't help but feel that I'm glimpsing something he's tried very hard to conceal. He looks around the room, anywhere but at me. He then takes a breath and says, "Moving on…" His voice is only a shadow of what it usually is; the toughness remains, but he's disguised it a bit better.
I don't say anything, and the sound of my whisk hitting the side of the mixing bowl echoes eerily throughout the room. "Why do you get like that?" I ask after several drawn out moments of silence.
"Like what?"
I pour the fettuccine into the boiling pot of water on the stove and say, "Whenever I ask you anything about your family, you get really cagey."
He thinks for a moment, genuinely thinks. It's rare that he ever considers his words before they fly out of his mouth, so I anxiously await his response.
"It's not really important," he says finally. It's a bit of an anticlimax.
"Obviously it is." I can't see him because I'm stirring the pasta, and I think this makes him more comfortable.
"My parents – they hate me. They actually despise me."
"I'm sure that's not true – "
"I'm just a fuck up," he continues, "I honest-to-god fuck up. I used to try to make them happy, but I would always ruin it and they would always be so… disappointed. Eventually I just stopped trying and the state of disappointment became constant."
I tut sympathetically. "Family is an odd thing," I say after a while. "They're people that you wouldn't normally interact with, but you're forced together anyway. Lots of times personalities clash. Your dad… I know how you feel, about your dad not being around. Hell, I have no fucking idea where mine even is – he could be back in fucking Italy for all I know. But you can't think that it's your fault that it's that way. Even if you fuck up, your family is supposed to be there for you. That's the whole point of them." I strain the pasta in the colander, before continuing, "What about your mum? Did you ever go talk to her?"
"Yeah, I told her I was happy that she found someone."
"That's good."
"Yeah, she even offered to have me move back in."
I turn to look at him for the first time in several minutes. His eyes are fixed on the gray counter-top, his long eyelashes casting a shadow on his cheekbones. "Why didn't you take her offer?" I ask.
"She's better off without me." He finally looks up upon feeling my eyes on him. "I think it's the first non-selfish thing I've ever done. At least now she can be happy and not worry about me screwing everything up."
I pour the pasta into a serving bowl and stir in the sauce. "Can you get a couple of plates out of the cupboard?" I ask Nathan, pointing to the cabinet. He would have a much easier time reaching them than I would. He wordlessly does as I ask, and I then spoon some pasta into his plate.
As we sit down at the small table to eat, he says, "That thing with the baby…"
"Hm? Yeah?" I interrupt loudly. I know he's trying to thank me, but I'm not going to make it easy on him.
"I just wanted to say… Er – thanks for saving my arse."
I beam at him as he takes a rather large bite of the pasta. I wait for a sarcastic comment, but instead he says, "Mother of God, this is actually really good."
"Thanks," I say simply.
"No, like, really good. Like the sort of 'can I eat here every night' type of good."
"You're not going to flatter me into shagging you," I say cynically.
"Well, it was worth a shot…" he replies in defeat, twirling another large section of fettuccine around his fork.
He's smiling and I'm smiling and at one point we lock eyes with one another. When we realize what we're doing, be both stop smiling and break eye contact uncomfortably. I get up, pouring more wine in both our glasses… I'm going to need several drinks to get through this night, I can already tell.
Later, he helps me wash the dishes and clean the kitchen, when we move our little powwow to the sofa. I take the bottle of wine with us. We talk and Nathan mostly acts like a prick and is cute sometimes and eventually I notice that it's completely dark outside; I check the clock on the microwave and see that it's nearly midnight.
He notices me looking at the time and says, "I should probably be going, huh?"
"Yeah," I say, my mind fuzzy and warm from nearly half a bottle of wine.
He stands up and brushes off his pant-legs. "Well, back to the community center…"
I bite my lip guiltily as he helps me up from the sofa. I feel sorry that he has to walk all the way back there to sleep on the floor of that horribly institutionalized building. I think that he might stay here and I can tell from the way he's staring at me that he's thinking it too.
"You – er," I start.
He cocks his head to the side expectantly.
"You could stay on the sofa if you like," I finally manage.
He raises his eyebrows. "Will we be having sex on the sofa? Because it makes no difference to me, but if you've got a perfectly good bed we might as well utilize it."
"No one will be having sex," I state firmly. "I just thought you might not want to stay at the community center."
"That's unfortunate – about the sex, I mean… But I do suppose it'd be nice to stay in an actual flat for once…"
"Okay," I say awkwardly, going to my closet to get a pillow and some blankets.
When I return, I see that he's kicked his shoes off and is now sprawled languorously across the sofa. "You sure made yourself a home," I comment, my voice not nearly as sharp as it usually is… Oh, alcohol, the wonders you provide... Or, rather, the undesirable situations you facilitate…
He jumps to his feet and takes the bundle from my hands. We stand facing each other, both unsure of what to say. It appears that all of his wisecracks have momentarily failed him, and I am not above chewing nervously on my lower lip. This motion draws his attention, and his line of vision shifts from my eyes to my mouth; he now licks his own lips. Our faces begin to gravitate toward one another (rather, Nathans' face begins to lean towards mine). Luckily, he's much taller than me and this process is slow. I smell the wine on his breath and I'm sure he can smell it on mine. My entire body is beginning to overheat, which I know to be a very bad omen. I back away slightly and clear my throat. "Well – uh – goodnight, then," I stammer quietly.
He blinks the lust out of his eyes and stands up straight. "Uh, yeah…" he says, somewhat dazed. His voice is huskier than usual, and he too clears his throat. Obviously things did not turn out the way he'd expected them to. "G'night," he says finally, back to normal.
I go to my bedroom, change into my pajamas, and fall back onto my mattress. I honestly do not know why I'd pulled away. I suspect it was because I truly did like him, and I didn't want this to be a one-off fuck. Now, I'm certainly no blushing virgin, but I'm also not a complete skank. Plus, I've already gone through the whole guys-only-using-you-for-sex phase of my life, and, because I'm clearly mentally derranged, I always seem to find guys who have the uncanny ability to crush my self-esteem. God knows, I didn't need another dickhead making me feel like shit.
I know that if I'd kissed him – if I'd allowed him that one first step – I probably wouldn't have been able to stop myself from sleeping with him. Usually I'm not so attracted to the guys I go out with, but, for some godforsaken reason, Nathan really gets me hot and bothered. I know my self-control might be jeopardized if I allow him any leeway. So, it's best to just cut it off before it gets to that point… Right?
xOx
I wake up as I usually do, to my alarm clock beeping annoyingly. It takes me several seconds to process my surroundings and what time it is. However, after a moment, I quickly remember who is sleeping on my sofa: Nathan. I groan and stretch my arms over my head. I think about waking him up, but I suppose it will take me much longer to get ready and I might as well shower first. I hastily jump in the shower, change, and do my makeup, before walking out of my bedroom to see that he is still fast asleep. I take a moment to study him (not in a creepy way, okay?); it's the first time I've ever seen him not talk for any extended period. He looks very much unlike himself, his features calm and relaxed. I had expected him to snore grotesquely, but he is actually quite quiet. However, it seems that he moves around a lot in his sleep, as evidenced by the pillows and blankets on the floor and the awful state that his hair is in.
"Nathan," I whisper, rustling him gently. "Wake up."
It doesn't take much to snap him out of his slumber, and his eyes shoot open immediately. He looks incredibly confused as his pupils focus and he realizes where exactly he is. He stretches out exaggeratedly, like a cat.
"Mornin'," he rasps, his voice thick with sleep. He has bags under his eyes and he seems to be having a hard time adjusting to the light.
"Good morning. We need to get going. We have to be at the community center in three-quarters of an hour."
"M'kay," he says, standing up unsteadily. "Where's the loo?"
I point him in the direction of my bathroom and pray to God that he doesn't get himself into trouble. If he messes up my things, I will kill him without hesitation…
"Do you want some cereal?" I call from the kitchen.
"What types have you go?" he shouts back in response. I hear the shower running.
"Cocoa Krispies and Cheerios. Are you taking a shower?"
"Yeah, do you mind, love? And I'll have Cocoa Krispies."
I don't say anything to his audacious response, but merely take out two bowls and pour Cocoa Krispies into them. Nathan makes quick work of his shower, and he comes out ten minutes later, smelling like my shampoo. His hair, although it's wet, is starting to curl and I can't help but ogle at the sight. Maybe I have a hair fetish or something (God, that would be unfortunate), but there's just something about that mop of brown ringlets that really gets to me. I hand him a carton of milk, having already finished my breakfast.
"Thanks," he says shortly.
After several seconds of silence, I comment, "You're certainly on your best behavior…" It's not often that he goes for more than a few seconds without talking, that's for sure.
"I'm not really a morning person," he grumbles, shoving his spoon in his mouth.
I eye him skeptically and rest my chin atop my hands as I wait for him to finish eating. He's done quickly and we then head off to the community center. Luckily, we're the first to get there and no one sees us arrive together – we wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea, would we? The last thing they need is tangible evidence that I fancy Nathan, that's for sure…
Author's note: Hope everyone liked it! What do you think of the pacing of everything so far? Too fast? Too slow? I'd love to hear from you all :-)
