“Nate?” I speak, my eyes shut tightly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come over?” I open my eyes as soon as I speak—amazed the words left my lips.

He rolls back over to face me, lifting his blanket open, and I somehow find my balance and tiptoe to the other side of the room, lying down next to him, in the most amazingly safe place I’ve ever felt.

He’s slow with his arm, pulling the top of the blanket over my shoulder and then reaching around the front of my body to pull me in close. He slides his other arm under my head for a pillow, and my head rests heavily on his bicep. I reach up and pull the tie from my hair, dropping it to the floor. Nate’s hand reaches along my arm when I do, and then he runs his fingers up my neck and into my hair, scooping my heavy strands into a pile along my skin. He continues to run his fingers from my hairline to behind my ear, each stroke like a wave crashing over me, making my eyes feel heavy.

“Hey Nate?” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“Mmmmm,” he says, his nose pressed against the back of my head while he pulls me in closer, continuing to wind my hair through his fingers.

“You should make more wishes,” I say.

“I just made, like, about twenty. But don’t worry. I’m patient.”

Every nerve in my body is tingling from whatever it is we’re doing. This is no longer just flirting. This is levels beyond flirting. And I am about to fall asleep without the help of Ambien for the first time in months.

Chapter 14

Rowe

Even your favorite song in the entire world gets old when it’s your ringtone and your mother keeps calling your phone—over and over and over. The first time, I reached to the floor and hit ignore. The next time I let it play through, and just kept my eyes on Nate’s eyelids, waiting for him to wake up. When she called again, this time waking him completely, I knew I had to answer.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, my lips pressed together tightly, and every nerve in my body firing with the realization that I am now talking to my mother while lying in the arms of the boy I met in college. I almost giggle because it’s such a typical, normal thing to have happen. It’s also one of those things I never thought would happen to me.

“Are you all right? You didn’t answer right away,” she says, her voice delving into that tone that says “I’m concerned about you, are you eating, should I book an appointment with Ross?”

“I’m fine, Mom. I was just away from my phone,” I say.

When I roll my head over on Nate’s arm to look at him, he mouths to me, “Liar,” and starts to poke my ribs, trying his best to make me lose control.

“I wanted to go through the flight details with you for next weekend,” she says. Somehow, I’ve already been away for three weeks. Those first few nights, I was obsessed with this date, knowing it was my reward for a milestone—my first trip home, a chance to back out of everything if I didn’t think I could make it. Yet now, I don’t want to go.

“Dad will pick you up when your flight gets in. I’ll try to sit up so I can see you, okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine.” Everything that was seconds ago amazing and wonderful is now tense and uncomfortable and sad. I force myself to keep up the appearance of happy for the few minutes my phone conversation with my mom lasts, and I manage to end it without her questioning me again.

“Figured if I wanted to make a good impression on your mom when I meet her, I should probably not make sex jokes in the background of your phone call,” Nate teases. All I hear is the word sex.

“Oh, you probably won’t ever get to meet her,” I say, trying to hide my reddening cheeks. I notice Nate’s arms fall flat along his sides, and his smile fades. His playfulness suddenly is gone as he turns away from me, his jaw muscles flexing.

“I need to get my workout in. You can hang out here as long as you want,” he says, pushing himself to the end of his bed and standing at the foot of it, his eyes never once landing on me.

“Something wrong?” My question comes out soft and timid, and I’m desperate to know what suddenly thrust so much distance between us.

Nate just stops at his closet door, his hand holding at the frame while his back is to me, and he takes a deep breath. “Nothing’s wrong, Rowe. Really,” he says, turning back to smile, but his lips not quite stretching the full distance of his face, and his eyes still not quite meeting mine. “My parents are taking me and my brother out to dinner tonight. You can come if you want. I’m sure Cass will be there.”