You Should Probably Leave - Chris Stapleton
"You should probably leave." The four words are on the edge of his tongue, dangling like the last leaf of an almost naked tree— afraid to make the plunge, for then it will officially be the death of fall.
But the words never come. Instead, Nathan stands slack jawed as his ex-girlfriend stands before him in the open door.
"I, uh, heard you were back in town," Haley says in a whisper so hushed he almost doesn't hear her. He sees her lips moving, though— still so plump and pink, calling out to his like a siren.
Nathan clears his throat, then steps aside to allow enough space for her body to pass through. It's not the first time she stops by unannounced. He'd be lying, too, if he said he hadn't ever landed on her doorstep— sometimes drunk, sometimes sober— simply with the sudden need to see her. Even their break-up, shy of five months ago, is not enough to deter them from these similar patterns.
"We have a home game, tomorrow," he says. Haley nods. She knows this— but she won't admit it.
"How are you?"
"I've been good," unlike the prior words he'd been thinking, this lie slips between his teeth easily. "How 'bout you?"
She catches his gaze— warm blue, but it still manages to send a row of chills down her spine. "Oh, you know, the same."
He smiles, "it's good to see you, Hales."
She follows him down the hall, where he leads her to his leather-infested living room. Far too many times had she teased him for it. Now, it's just another painful memory. There's a basketball game playing on the TV screen; she once asked him why he bothered paying for cable when ESPN was the only channel he ever watched. She's sure it plays on an endless loop.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything—," she scans the room for signs of changes. There's an empty bottle of beer on the coffee table, and a plate with pizza crumbs presumably. His discarded socks are rolled up in a messy ball beside the lounge chair, and a grey throw blanket — one she'd bought him as a house warming gift— was bunched on the edge of the couch. So, no. Nothing changed. Haley smiles at this familiar sight.
"Not at all. I was just watching the Knicks game. We play them next week."
"You'll be in New York?"
Nathan nods, "our plane leaves Monday."
"Oh…" a breath, then a pause. "That's nice."
He bristles at her words, pointing to the couch. Both suppress the instant memories of what they'd done together on those very cushions.
"Take a seat. Let me get you a glass of wine. I think I have the Merlot you like."
"Thanks," her smile is in the shape of a crescent moon, "I won't stay long."
He nods, slowly. She said that last time. He believed her then, too. He doesn't now. He knows she wants him to tell her she should probably leave. But he won't. Neither will she.
Nathan returns from the kitchen, carrying the bottle of wine and two empty glasses. Haley's chewing her lip as she's watching him pour.
"So, what's new in the world of teaching?"
"Ugh," she groans and takes a long, slow swig. He chuckles.
"I'm gonna need about three more bottles of that," she gestures towards the Merlot, smirking.
"Rough day, then?"
"You could say that," Haley slumps back onto the couch, letting the cold leather consume her.
"I'm sure you're doing great, Hales. Your students are lucky to have you."
"Thanks," she finds him staring.
Nathan notices the look in her eyes; it's funny how eyes tend to say more than words.
If he was brave, he'd tell her to leave. If he was smart, he never would have poured her the glass of line. If he was strong, he never would have opened the door.
Yet, here they are: where they've been so many times before. Because neither can resist, and neither can be the first to leave.
Nathan thinks Haley deserves better; deserves someone who isn't on the road for more than half the year. She deserves the kind of guy who will always be home when she needs him the most. She deserves the kind of guy who can settle down in a single town; who doesn't fear commitment and can give her the family she's always wanted. She deserves so much more than he can offer— but selfishly, she's all he's ever wanted.
"Is it wrong to miss you?"
Haley bites her lip, "why do you think I'm here?"
Nathan's gaze flutters to her lips. All it takes is a single kiss.
"Yeah," he mumbles.
She wants him to say that she should stay. He doesn't have to. The kiss is clear enough; their tongues speak a secret language. She's not going to leave. He doesn't want her to.
Within minutes, Haley's naked back is stretched across the couch— her shirt long discarded somewhere on the floor with Nathan's. Her voice a breathy whisper in his ear, saying "more."
It's never enough. Not the first time on the couch; not the second time against the door in the hall, and certainly not the third time in his bed.
They lay with tangled limbs and glowing smiles; her head on his chest, his hand through her hair. Thumping hearts and lingering kisses. He's afraid to sleep. She's afraid to let go.
When it's 6am, and the sun's a painting across her skin, he's still watching her sleep— scared that, when she wakes, she'll say she should probably leave. He doesn't want her to. Never did, never does.
"What's on your mind?" She asks in a throat whisper, her voice horse from sleepiness and last night's screams.
He smirks, "how did you know something is on my mind? Your eyes are still closed."
"I don't have to see you to know you, Nathan." A smile tugs at her lips. He's desperate to kiss it.
"I just… I'm wondering why you always come back. I mean, you should be with someone better."
Haley's eyes peel open and she grabs his hand, "Nathan, don't you get it? There's no one else in the world I could ever want more than you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't know that."
"How can you be so sure?" He whispers.
Haley leans down to kiss him; it's slow and firm. "Because I love you, Nathan Scott."
He grins at that. "I love you, too, Haley James."
His arms grab a tight hold of her naked waist. He grips her and she laughs, "and I'm never letting you leave again."
"Is that a threat?" There's a bright twinkle in her eyes.
"It's a promise."
