"The best liar is he who makes the smallest amount of lying go the longest way."
— Samuel Butler
April 22nd, 2018
He was but a shadow. One of many. But that was his job, to hide and stay hidden. To be unseen and unheard, and most of all, to watch her.
The girl had been his target for the better part of the past few years, and oh, was she trouble. Though that was to be expected, considering her pedigree. He did not carry any false pretenses, he knew his task would be difficult, but he had overestimated the degree to which he would struggle getting close to her.
In the end, however, he found a way. A tricky, slightly dangerous way. Dangerous to both his heart and Hers, but a solution, nonetheless, to the problem currently sleeping in her seventeenth-floor dorm room, completely oblivious to his presence just outside her building.
She had been upset, yesterday, over something he paid little attention to, but if he were any good at his job and his intuition was correct, then she would awake any moment.
And there… he was right. Light joined the various others scattered across the building—students pulling all-nighters. A head peeked up from that one specific window he had his sights on. There she is.
The girl stayed there for a moment, and he thought briefly, with an amused smirk, that if she looked down, she would see him.
He imagined the surprise on her face, the initial shock and confusion slowly setting in, taking over her body and freezing her limbs. She tended to freeze under the threat of danger, and that was what he would become if he were found looking up at her.
Danger.
He pondered on it for a beat. No, he did not want her to know. He did not want to upset the girls and cause them unnecessary harm. Something painful stirred in him at the idea.
Betrayal.
And he did not want to lose Her trust—more than he already had, though she was blissfully unaware of it. But he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, now, did he? An unfortunate consequence. If not him, then somebody else. If not now, then never.
He decided he was not ready to let go of all he had gained. Some time passed as he waited. Then, like clockwork, he saw her, head down with a towel clutched in her arms. Alone. He frowned, and when the girl left, he left with her, blending in with the shadows—watching her, always watching her.
So, he followed, memorizing everything she did. Every falter in her steps, every heavy exhale of breath. It was his job, after all.
He followed, knowing there was only one way this would end. But he ignored all the warnings. He told himself the end justified the means, that she would understand why he had to do what he did. That she would forgive him.
He blended in with the shadows, stopping when she stopped, moving when she moved. He hid when she looked around—Ah! There was that paranoia, though it did not last very long, for she was walking again, oblivious to the fact that he was watching. Always watching.
He watched as she plunged herself into the water, held his breath when she stayed submerged for a minute too long, and watched again as she hummed an old tune while drying herself off.
Only when she was back in her room did he let himself relax. He pulled out his phone to type a quick message.
All clear
There, and he was done for the next few days. He was about to put his phone away when he noticed an unopened message.
It's the least u could've done -_-
Immediately, he began to type.
Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you tomorrow.
Her response came right away.
I have some good news!
It made him smile. It seemed the only time he smiled now was when he was with Her.
With one last smile and one last longing look, he disappeared back into the shadows as if he were never there. Though, he left his heart behind, as he always did.
She awoke in a cold sweat, the remnants of the nightmare still flashing behind her eyes. For a few moments, she was back in the dark and musty room, holding her brother's limp body in her small arms, shaking him periodically and willing him to open his eyes.
"Someone's coming! Wake up. We have to go!"
There was not much she remembered of that night, but the parts she did? ...well, they were not pleasant.
Not pleasant at all.
The girl blindly felt around for the lamp on her side table, finally able to breathe once her room lit up in a soft orange glow. She was safe. Safe in her dorm, surrounded by her books and her haphazardly strewn clothes. Safe from prying eyes and threatening men.
Despite the terror clinging to her skin, she could not help but feel disburdened—reliving her nightmare in the privacy of her own room. Guilt still brought hot, shameful tears to her eyes whenever she remembered disturbing her roommate due to her night terrors.
At least now she could be miserable in peace. Her two-bedroom dorm—while on the pricier side, gave the girl the freedom to keep her secrets just that, a secret. She had to pick up extra shifts to afford it, robbing her of any social life she could have had, but she was close with her friend and was living comfortably for the first time in years.
She tossed her blanket from her burning body and turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window, leaning slightly to take in the view from Founders House. The North Pacific stretched out in front of her, the waves shining under the glow of a full moon, and she instantly felt calmer, though the slight tremor in her hands remained.
A reminder.
She reached for her phone to check the time. Three AM. Her mother would be awake right now, tending to the garden, watering her precious azaleas and roses. The girl instinctively dialled her mother's number, needing to hear her voice. She would calm her down as she always did, would understand as she always did.
The call went straight to voicemail. The girl called the number again, frowning when the automated response answered her instead of the silvery and soothing voice she was usually greeted by. Anxiety settled in the girl's gut, something she was not used to anymore, having left that turbulent part of her life behind.
Mrs. Burgundy always picked up her daughter's call. It wasn't often they were able to talk, and so Eleanor Burgundy took every opportunity she could to check up on the girl. It could be the middle of the night in New York or just before the crack of dawn, and her mother always picked up before the last ring.
No matter what.
The shrill sound of the girl's ringtone broke the deafening silence. She answered immediately, sweaty fingers sliding against the cold screen. "Hello?"
Silence greeted her on the other end. "Mama? Hello, are you there? I've been calling you all week. Was starting to get worried." Then the rhythmic inhale-exhale of someone breathing, slowly rose to the surface.
She checked the caller ID and, sure enough, it was her mother. "Mama?"
A low voice murmured her name, a man, with raspy breath and clipped words. Then, "end the call," sounding urgent and panicked. And silence once more.
The girl shook as fear crawled up her spine. She called her mother back, but alas, it went straight to voicemail.
"Hi, this is Eleanor Burgundy. I'm most likely busy right now, so please call again later, and I'll be sure to pick up this time. No promises though! Bye!"
Could it be? No, it couldn't. They had been so careful. Yet, paranoia began to fester in her mind, making her doubt her reality. She chalked the disturbance up to her nightmare. She was fine. Safe. Her mother was fine too. Most likely busy with an affair of her father's, she must not have realized she picked up her daughter's call.
It was a pocket dial. Yes, it must have been that. A mere accident.
Water. She needed water. The girl made her way to the kitchen on shaky legs and grabbed a cold bottle from the fridge. She gulped half of it in one breath and the other half in a second.
"Pass me one, Kitty Cat?"
The girl turned toward the dining table to see her roommate sitting cross-legged on a chair, surrounded by various cups of half-finished coffee and piles of paper. "I hate when you call me that," she mumbled under her breath, though her friend heard her clearly. "I have a name, you know."
"I know," her friend replied.
"Dove, you should be sleeping," the girl answered with a sigh as she sat down next to her and passed her a water.
Dove checked the time on her laptop before shrugging carelessly. "Whatever, it's not that late. It's only three AM, and besides, I have an exam in the morning which isn't gonna learn itself."
She cringed, pulling at the ends of her dirty blonde hair. "Ew. Did that make sense? I don't think that made any sense. 'Isn't gonna learn itself?' What the fuck does that even mean? I swear to God, this shitty coffee is literally making me lose brain cells—not that I had any in the first place. I'm so fucking stupid. Who—"
"Dove." the girl gently interrupted her friend. "It made sense."
Whereas Dove was fast-paced, both in her manner of speaking and in how her brain processed information, the girl was the opposite, and not just in that same regard.
The girl was quiet compared to Dove. Softer and more gentle. The difference between the two was clear as night and day after only a single conversation. The girl did not like confrontation and did not let herself get angry if she could help it. Every day was a struggle to keep her emotions in check. Nothing about her could stand out. She needed to be as inconspicuous as possible, which, evidently, did the exact opposite for her. Instead, she stood out like a sore thumb beside her friend.
Dove was loud and extroverted. Free-spirited, much like her given name, she flew past words and ideas. She spoke her mind and spoke it fast, her tongue in a constant race against her thoughts. She was taller than the girl, with longer legs and poutier lips. Paler and more confident, whereas the girl was meek and docile.
However, their correlating characteristics were not without cause. Their pasts had shaped their futures. Dove was a middle child of eight, forced to be loud to be noticed and heard, and it had done her well for university life, making her the center of every party. Everyone wanted to be friends with Dove Rivers. Her contagious charisma brought both attention and confidence to those around her.
The girl, on the other hand, had suffered something quite drastic compared to Dove. She became discreet and quiet because her surroundings demanded so. And so far, it had worked. There was no unnecessary attention surrounding her. She was not popular or at the bottom of the social hierarchy. Save for a few things, like her academic standing, she was, for all intents and purposes... average.
Not very pretty, but not too bad to look at either. Smart, but without a claiming reputation. And she was forgettable, which suited her just fine.
Dove smiled brightly, white teeth peeking through her lips. "You're right. It did make sense." After a few moments of silence, she abruptly closed her laptop, turning her attention to the girl beside her. "Why are you awake?"
The girl looked away, shame taking over her delicate features. "No reason." For God's sake, she was in the final year of graduate school. There was no reason for her to still be having nightmares.
Dove paused, pursing her lips in thought. Her friend's non-answer was answer enough. "Another nightmare?" she asked.
The softness and concern behind the question made the girl burn with even more shame. She merely nodded, unable to meet Dove's eyes, unable to bear the pity that no doubt resided in her green irises.
"That's the third one this week." Dove's voice was hesitant. Soft, as if she were talking to a wounded animal.
And the girl supposed she was one. A kitten, trying to survive in a world run by vicious wolves. She gave another nod.
"Kitty… are you alright?—"
"Perfect!" she interjected hastily, supporting an overly fake smile, and winced at the desperation lacing her words. "I'm perfect. Just stressed about work." She hoped Dove believed her, that she saw truth woven between all the lies.
And she did. Dove raised a skeptical brow before relenting, moving on to another issue. "Yeah? What's up? I've barely seen you this past month."
It was not as if it were a complete lie. Though it was not the reason sleep evaded her, money was turning out to be a bigger problem than the girl anticipated. Expenses were piling up, and if she wanted to keep living in Vancouver after graduation, she needed an efficient savings plan, especially with all the loans she would have to pay.
"I had to pick up extra shifts at work. I, uh—I won't have enough for a place to live after graduation." It was discouraging to think this was where all her hard work led her. And it was embarrassing to admit as much to Dove. Dove, who was bright and perky and pretty, without a care for the world.
"Kitty…" Dove began, her voice filled with pity.
"Maybe if I skip grad and try applying to that cleaning job posted at the student centre, then maybe I'll have enough to make ends meet."
"No," came Dove's firm reply. "Money is not going to be an issue for you. I told you I'd take care of you."
"And I told you I won't take your charity." The girl sighed and took a sip of water. "I'm not helpless, Dove. I have options—granted, they're not the best, but they are viable. There's a place in Chinatown I found for cheap. I think I'm gonna take it."
"And?" Dove encouraged the girl to continue.
She didn't want Dove knowing the details because she would object, but what other choice did she have? "And I saw an ad on the SkyTrain looking for a roommate. It's only a thousand for the month, and I'd be sharing with three other guys—"
"No fucking way!" Dove exclaimed. "Fuck that!"
"Okay," the girl snapped. "I get it. You don't like the idea, but there's no need to swear."
But Dove wasn't listening. Spurred on by rightful indignation, she let out a few more choice words. "Are you crazy? You wanna live in a house filled with strange men?"
"No, of course, I don't. And besides, it's an apartment, not a house."
Dove scoffed at the girl's attempt at a rebuttal. "That makes no difference. Chinatown? Really? Just last week some woman was found raped and killed in an alley near Victory Square."
Dove tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and began to fidget with the pen in her hand. "God! Vancouver's turning into a Francis Coppola movie. There's mini Michael's popping out everywhere." At the confused look on her friend's face, Dove asked, "Haven't you seen The Godfather? It's a mobster movie. Kinda graphic, lots of blood."
The girl paled significantly, shocked by the words leaving Dove's mouth. "What?" she choked out.
"Yeah. It's pretty cool. It's based on a book about this crime family in New York. Michael—he's the main character—he doesn't want to be a part of the 'family business,' but after some drama with his father, he's kinda forced to get involved. By the end of the movie—"
But the girl wasn't listening anymore. Her ears rang, and her palms became sweaty. "—a book about this crime family in New York." "—a mobster movie… graphic… lots of blood."
Her thoughts kept getting stuck on the same thing. Crime family. New York. What were the odds? She was almost four thousand kilometres away and still wasn't far enough.
She could feel abrasive rope digging into her wrists, metal digging into her back. The scent of blood was thick in the air as it dripped down from the ceiling and pooled at her feet until she was choking on it.
As the ringing got louder, a deep voice called her name from a distance. Moving closer and closer, until—
"—Kitty, are you listening?"
The girl nodded numbly, blinking as the room came back to focus.
"So, you'll do it? You'll move in with me?" Dove asked hopefully.
"Dove," the girl frowned, feeling duped. "I can't ask you to do that."
"You're not. I'm offering. What else is daddy's credit card good for? He's so busy with his own shit he won't even care what I do." There was an underlying tone of resentment in Dove's words, and the girl would've mentioned it if she was not shaken up. "As long as I don't bother him at work," Dove laughed, "he won't bother me. So?"
A refusal was right on the tip of her tongue, but Dove interrupted her. "And don't even think of saying no. I'm not letting you stay alone in a neighbourhood filled with mobsters. And I'm not going to bed until you agree."
Mobsters. There was that word again.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"I'll move in with you."
Dove shot out of her seat and wrapped the girl in a bone-crushing hug. "Yes! We're gonna have so much fun!" Her sight landed on the wall clock, and she cursed under her breath. "I have to wake up early tomorrow. Oh, and I have to call Peter. He's gonna be so excited. I promise we'll keep the PDA to a minimum around you, okay? There will be no awkward interactions."
The girl nodded numbly, not quite understanding what she agreed to.
"You gonna go to bed soon?" Dove asked, walking backward toward her room.
"Yes," she lied.
"I'll see you tomorrow during your shift, then. Love you! Goodnight!" And the door slammed behind her.
The girl didn't like lying. It was a nasty and horrible thing. She hesitated only slightly before grabbing her suit and a towel, leaving her dorm, making sure not to disturb Dove.
Nowhere was far enough anymore.
It started slowly, a tingle in her spine, crawling up her shoulders and toward her neck. The feeling of someone watching her. She surveyed her surroundings, once, then twice, then seemingly happy with the absence of any other soul, the girl turned her back toward the sand.
The water was freezing compared to the warm air surrounding her, and the girl ran her hands down her arms to conserve her body heat. This was so unlike her, venturing into the open ocean all alone. Dove usually accompanied the girl on her midnight dips, but something felt different this time.
Crime family.
New York.
Dove's words kept echoing in her ears. She was a business major on weekdays, a Lifeguard on weekends, and a musician during the days in between. Dove always waited out on the sand, making sure the girl was not swept away by the waves.
She supposed she was crazy—at least that's what any passerby would think to find a young woman, who could not swim, alone in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Except, the only peace she found nowadays was when water pressed on her from all sides, burning her lungs and forcing her to hold her breath. The act bordered on being almost suicidal in nature, but the truth was she did not want to die. In fact, the idea of death scared her so much that she could not think about it for more than a few minutes at a time.
She just sometimes wished to be able to turn back time, to keep her mother from meeting her father. And if that meant the girl's birth would have never come to pass? Well, it wasn't something that particularly bothered her.
There weren't too many opportunities in her childhood for her to learn to swim, and she was much too indifferent in her adult years to start a new skill. But the waves were tame, the tide was low, and she would be safe if she did not venture too far.
She submerged her legs in the water, then her stomach and her arms. When it reached her shoulders, she stopped, looking for a moment at the moon. It was a beautiful night, and she wished she could have enjoyed it, but she did not know how to. The girl had not enjoyed much of anything in the past ten years.
She found there to be a vulnerability in standing under the open skies in nothing but a flimsy swimsuit, surrounded by cool water and wet sand. Anyone could be watching. Anyone could see the crazy, lone girl out for a swim in the middle of the night.
Maybe that is what she liked. The vulnerability—the control despite the danger. She could not very well scream her woes out into the open night sky for fear of someone overhearing her. And she could not let herself succumb to her sadness with no one to catch her.
Yes, she had Dove, Peter too, but she did not want to burden them with her past. She would never willingly drag them into the life she ran from. So she would never cry or complain after a bad dream or after a memory of her brother resurfaced. No. She would walk the short distance to the beach and submerge her head. She would let the water obliterate the world outside and let herself be surrounded by complete and utter silence.
It started slowly, a tingle in her spine, crawling up toward her neck. The feeling of someone watching her. She surveyed her surroundings, once, then twice, then seemingly happy with what she found, the girl turned her back toward the sand. She was tired.
She took a deep breath and bent her knees. The ocean enveloped her, washing away all her thoughts, and the ringing in her ears that seemed to follow her everywhere... subsided. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to inhale a lungful of water, finally feeling calm after weeks of unease. She could feel only the cool water, hear only her heart beating away in her chest, and see absolutely nothing. She relished in it, and only when air turned lava in her lungs did she straighten her knees and take a desperate breath in, letting all her troubles invade her mind once again.
The nightmare, long forgotten.
April 23rd, 2018
The smell of coffee was strong in the air, the richness cut through by the faint aroma of sweet bread and savoury pastries. The daily rush of students and faculty alike, all in need of a hefty dose of caffeine, had dispersed with the start of the morning classes.
It was around noon when the girl got a slight reprieve from making latte after latte. She was sitting on a small crate toward the back of the café, stretching her limbs and flexing her numb fingers. She could feel the beginnings of a migraine tightening behind her eyes, forged together due to the stress of the past week. She had a presentation due yesterday for her Principles of Investigative Journalism class, one she had been working on for the better part of the month. The grades were to be released that day during class, and the anticipation was keeping her on edge, making her confuse coffee orders and make silly mistakes.
She heard the little bell over the door jingle, alerting her to a customer, and she shot out of her hiding spot to attend to them. "Hi! What can I…" her words trailed in a startled gasp.
The man in front of her was beautiful. Medium built and an average height for a hockey player. Long lashes framed his dark eyes, and a smile graced his pink lips. "Can I get a small Irish coffee to stay?"
The girl stumbled back a step, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her. "Yes, of course." Her body took too long to catch up with her brain, and she suddenly remembered one very important detail. "Oh!" She turned around. "We don't actually serve that. Sorry."
The man in front of her looked perplexed. "Why not?"
"Because we're not a bar. W—we're not licensed to sell alcohol."
The man huffed in mild annoyance. "Alright. Can I just get a cappuccino then?"
She nodded an assent and began to prepare his new drink. Shoot! Coffee splashed onto her hands when she was filling the mug. The girl groaned under her breath and ran her hand under cold water from the tap. She was all too aware of his eyes watching her every move.
In the background, the muffled laugh of her friend reached her ears. Dove was sitting at a table near the front, nursing a green tea latte and working on a resume for a job at a marketing company. The two linked eyes and Dove gave her friend an exaggerated wink.
"Go for it," she mouthed silently.
Frazzled, and embarrassed by the extra attention, the girl rushed to finish making the drink. "Here you go. A small Cappuccino to stay."
The man hummed. "Are Cappuccinos supposed to be so… dark?"
To her horror, she realized she accidentally served him an Americano instead of a Cappuccino. "I'm so sorry! I'll make you another right away."
Dove couldn't keep silent this time and snickered. Thankfully, the man didn't look too bothered, if anything, he was amused by her blunder. "Okay, I'll be sitting over there," he pointed to a seat near the window, a few places down from Dove.
Spurred on by embarrassment, the girl was sure to not make any mistakes this time. She grabbed a blueberry scone from behind the display and made her way to the man. "Your Cappuccino, and a scone on the house. I'm really sorry for the mix-up."
"It happens. Whatever." He shook off her apology with a little shrug, then he smiled. "I'm Nathan."
"I know." Her mouth opened before she could stop herself. Mortification flooded her body, and it took everything in her not to scream and fall over right then and there.
"You know?" he smirked.
Of course, she knew. How could she not? The Nathan Acosta, the boy she had secretly been pining over for more than a year, was sitting in the café she worked at, smiling at her. It was both a dream and a nightmare at the same time.
The girl made an incoherent sputtering noise, unable to look him in the eyes. "We were in the same class last year," she shrugged.
"I remember," he said casually, making the girl look at him. "Kitty, right?"
She opened her mouth to disapprove and told him her real name.
"I'm surprised you can fit anything other than hockey terms in that stupid brain of yours," Dove called out.
"Fuck you, Rivers," Nathan laughed.
"You wish, Acosta," Dove quipped.
The girl listened to the exchange with wide eyes and slight mortification. She knew the two were acquainted but was surprised by their frankness.
A heat grew in her chest, one that she identified as jealousy. Of course, Dove was close with Nathan, and of course they bartered back and forth like best friends. Dove was everything the girl wasn't.
Nathan didn't notice quiet girls like her. Though, it's not like it mattered anyway if he paid her any attention because nothing could come of it. She would always be alone, and she was fine with that. Truly, she was.
This crush she had on Nathan was fleeting and inconsequential. It would fizzle out once they graduated, and he wouldn't spare her another thought.
"When does your shift end?" Nathan asked the girl.
"Three-thirty," she answered.
He smiled, so bright and big that she couldn't help smiling back. "I wanna take you out."
And just like that, her smile fizzled.
"What?" she asked, mortified.
"Let's grab a slice of pizza after your shift. Around five, five-thirty?"
Nathan's words were so casual that it took a moment for the meaning to set in. Though they were mostly alone in the café, the girl looked to the left and then to the right, making sure there were no cameras trained on her, or wandering eyes wanting to catch her in a moment of bewilderment.
"Pizza?" she questioned.
"Yeah," Nathan shrugged. "Unless you're one of those girls who only eat salads."
"I'm not," the girl said, only because she could say nothing else.
"Good." Nathan took a sip of his Cappuccino, pursing his lips at the strong flavour. "No sugar?" he asked, gesturing to his cup.
"Cappuccinos don't have sugar traditionally."
"Right. So, it's a date?"
The girl wiped her sweaty hands on her apron, thinking of an appropriate response. Surely there had been some mistake. Maybe Nathan had her confused with someone else—unlikely, because she looked nothing like the girls he hung out with—or maybe he hit his head during practice and got a concussion.
"I don't know if I can—"
"She would love to!" Dove interrupted.
"Great!" Nathan exclaimed before the girl could say anything. He grabbed his drink and put his sunglasses down. "I'll be outside your dorm. See you soon, baby." And as fast as he came, he left.
The two friends looked at each other. Dove, with a wide smile and the girl with wide eyes. "I feel sick," said the girl.
"You'll be fine," Dove reassured her.
"No, I—I don't…" she lowered herself on the chair Nathan previously occupied. "Oh my God, I—What? What just happened?"
"You got asked on a date by the captain of the hockey team," Dove pointed out the obvious.
"No," she whispered.
"And you said yes."
"No," she said louder. "I didn't."
Dove took a long sip of her latte. "You didn't," she agreed. "I said yes for you."
"Dove," the girl grimaced, "I feel sick."
Dove was amused. "You said that already." Her features suddenly softened. "I know you don't date, but I promise it's not hard. You just ask questions and get to know one another."
Alarm bells rang in her head. She wasn't someone who opened up easily to others, and her past was to blame for it. What would she say if Nathan asked her why she chose journalism? What would she say if he asked about her family?
But she didn't voice any of her thoughts. She took her insecurities and shoved them as deep as they would go. Instead, she wiped the fear off her face and gave her friend a tentative smile. "I felt like I was going to die when he started talking to me."
Dove replied in earnest, recalling her first date and comparing it to her relationship with Peter. She eased her friends' nerves and convinced her to wear some makeup before Nathan arrived. And before the girl knew it, her shift was coming to an end.
"Pizza," he had said, though the place she found herself at was fancier than she imagined. Waitresses wore short black pieces and showed enough cleavage to entice the men to give a larger tip. Tables were dressed with silverware and white napkins, and the lights were dimmed to give a romantic feel. The girl felt extremely underdressed in a plain top and a pair of boring bottoms.
"Fuck, you're pretty."
Nathan himself was also dressed casually, wearing a simple shirt with khaki trousers. However, Nathan was able to look good in anything, unlike the girl, who blended in with her surroundings. He received appreciative glances from most of the women around them, some of whom were on their own dates, and the girl couldn't help but think again that Nathan had made a mistake. He couldn't possibly want to be with her.
"Thank you." She blushed under his gaze, which seemed to burn brighter with every second that passed. "The food is amazing."
"I know," he replied. "That's why I picked this place."
The girl waited anxiously for the dreaded questions about her life, the ones that would help them to know each other better, but they never came. Nathan didn't ask her anything of substance, and she was too nervous to initiate the conversation herself.
Instead, he threw compliments her way like they were trifle occurrences. "You look hot in that shirt." "Your height matches mine perfectly." "Fuck, your lips." Mixed with a healthy amount of praise for himself. "I bench pressed a hundred fifty yesterday," followed by a wink. "Coach said any team would be lucky to have me." And on he went until the table cleared and the cheque was brought.
The girl insisted on splitting the bill, only slightly regretting it after she saw the price. It was a wonder why people went out all the time. Dating was expensive.
Nathan drove her to her building and walked her to the door. Two hours spent together and the girl had learned nothing about Nathan she didn't already know. It was doubtful if he learned anything either since he kept calling her Kitty after forgetting her name twice in a row.
She stopped outside the building and turned to face him. This was where the girl thanked the boy for a nice time, wasn't it? They would say farewell and he would pretend to have enjoyed her company. They would depart as mere acquaintances and never speak to each other again.
"Thank you for—" She paused, surprised to find Nathan standing so close to her.
He grabbed her chin and tilted her head until she could look at him properly. The girl took an impulsive step back, and Nathan followed, trapping her against the wall with an arm on each side of her head.
Nathan was standing only inches from her, and his closeness caused heat to rush to her head. He smiled and leaned down, letting his breath wash over her. This was the closest she had ever been to a boy before, and that boy being Nathan Acosta wasn't doing her rapidly beating heart any favours.
They were breathing the same breath, lips mere inches away from each other. She could feel the heat of his body radiating through her skin, warming her, and she burned like an inferno under his gaze.
Nathan's nose brushed hers, and she let her eyes close naturally, nervousness running through her veins like a drug. Hands grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against his body, and she sighed. Any moment now…
A voice in the back of her mind shook her out of her daze, and she realized with a sudden ruthlessness that Nathan was about to kiss her. Alarm bells rang in her ears, warning her that what she was about to do was wrong. Their kiss could lead to more, and she had read enough books and seen enough movies to know that emotions usually got involved at that stage.
That was not something she was willing to risk.
She turned just before Nathan could kiss her, and his lips awkwardly chased hers until he gave up. His eyes opened with a frown. "What happened?"
Oh. Oh no! How would she explain her feelings to him? She did not think so far ahead and was now faced with an embarrassing situation. She opted to go for a half-truth. "I—I've never…" the sentence was too embarrassing for her to finish.
"What? You've never slept with anyone before? I already know that, and I don't care." Nathan shrugged nonchalantly and moved in for another attempt, which the girl immediately thwarted. She pushed at his chest to bring some distance between them.
God. She felt sick to her stomach. If she were thinking clearly she would wonder how Nathan knew she'd never been with anyone before, but she wasn't. The girl was mortified at the turn of events and was trying to keep his lips away from hers.
"No, I don't mean—I mean I haven't, but that's not what I—What I meant was, I—" She took a deep breath and decided to blurt out her answer. "I haven't kissed anyone before."
There, the secret was out. Nathan would laugh at her and tell her to lose his number. However, what he did instead, surprised her.
Nathan frowned and said, "Okay. Why?"
His question stumped her because she wasn't sure. There were quite a few reasons: she didn't have the time, she didn't have the energy. She wasn't the sort to be able to become intimate with just anyone. And then there was the reason she ran from home. She didn't want to drag any potential romantic partners through her dreadful past.
In the end, she decided on a simple answer. Something easy for Nathan to understand. "I'm waiting for the right person."
And she wasn't hopeful about her odds, though she did not tell him so.
"Okay," he said simply.
"Okay?"
"Yeah. We don't have to do anything tonight. It's all good." He leaned away from her, dropping his arms.
She was not prepared for Nathan to be so understanding. He was used to girls throwing themselves at him, but there he was with her, and she wouldn't even kiss him.
"That's good, I think," Nathan said. "I actually just came out of a serious relationship."
The girl ignored the pang in her heart.
"She cheated on me," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry."
"Nah," Nathan clicked his tongue. "I'm over it. She didn't respect me or our relationship, so I'm not gonna spend any time grovelling over her. She's not worth it."
"Right. Respect—respect is important." This Nathan was a lot different than the one at the restaurant. That Nathan was shallow and condescending. His conversation was dry.
This Nathan… This Nathan was compassionate and introspective. His conversation was deep, and his thoughts were receptive. Maybe he had been nervous during the date. He was only human, and while the girl clammed up under nerves, maybe Nathan did the opposite and said things he hadn't meant.
"I—I like to think everything happens for a reason," the girl contributed. "You and…"
"Marilyn," Nathan supplied.
"You and Marilyn were meant to be—for however long—no matter what. And who knows, you probably learned something meaningful from the betrayal." She finished with a shrug, trying to dismiss her words in case Nathan felt offended.
He furrowed his brows in contemplation. "I did," he exclaimed quietly. Then Nathan looked at the girl with such intensity that she stopped breathing momentarily. "I learned not to take anything for granted."
Oh. Oh.
Words failed her, so she nodded.
"There's a party tomorrow night," Nathan said, "at Delta Kappa Epsilon. You should come."
The day was just full of surprises, was it not? Did he want to see her again?
"I don't go to parties," she wanted to tell him. "I can't give you what you want." But instead, she said, "okay."
"You'll be there?" he clarified.
"Sure."
Seemingly happy with her response, Nathan smiled brightly and laughed. "Awesome." He winked teasingly, unironically throwing in some finger guns, and jogged to his car.
The girl stood outside the building for a few more minutes, clutching her frantically beating heart. The sun was beginning to set, which cast a soft, orange glow over the landscape. Was this what love felt like? Warm and kind, and encouraging?
Eventually, she found herself inside on the seventeenth floor. Sighing deeply, and with a dopey smile on her face, she used her access card to open the door, collapsing against it on the other side.
Her smile widened, and she bit her lip to contain her emotions. Nathan invited her to a party. That is to say, she did not particularly like parties or large crowds, and kept her distance from places that might bring any attention to her. But it was the end of the school year, and the boy she was infatuated with finally noticed her. So, no, she didn't do parties or large crowds, but if she got Nathan to smile at her again as he did earlier, then she was willing to do almost anything.
The girl's insecurities washed away with Nathan's invitation because while he could have been fooling her in the privacy of the café, he would never parade her around his group of friends if he were not truly interested in her.
Nathan was intent on the Vancouver Canucks—almost as much as they were intent on him, and he planned to sign with them as a free agent a few months after graduation. This was well known throughout campus. Even the most ignorant of people had some idea of who Nathan Acosta was. So, while Nathan would travel during the season, he would spend the majority of his time in British Columbia. Long-distance relationships were not common, but those who put in the effort made it work.
The girl couldn't help but let her thoughts run free, picturing a future where she was happy and very much in love. Nathan was by her side, and maybe she had a kid or two. A cabin in the mountains and a pet to keep her company while he was away.
Is this what happiness feels like? She loved it. She looked at her clothes. Plain and boring, much like everything else in her closet. What did one wear to a party? A dress? The girl didn't have any.
She smiled again. Tomorrow she would buy a dress for herself and wear it to her date with Nathan. She bit her lip at the thought of seeing him again. She couldn't wait.