The tips of his ears turn bright red, just like they did in debate class when I completely decimated his argument. If I remember correctly, it was so bad that he stuttered through his entire rebuttal and knocked his grade from an A to a B. While I may have tried to block out most of my high school experience, moments like those will stay with me until my dying breath.
I can tell he’s revving up to explode.
The Nate I used to know prided himself on never losing control. It’s what made him so popular in high school. He was this enigma who seemed utterly disinterested, yet totally involved. He did debate and played chess but was still the captain of the baseball team and, eventually, prom king. His clothes were thrift store chic before thrifting was cool, but he still managed to make everyone envious of his well-worn Chucks and faded tees . . . a far cry from the stuffy style he now has.
With my kinky curls and bronze skin among a sea of silky straight hair and rosy cheeks, I never felt like I fit in. He was my lifeboat in the storm. We felt like kindred spirits.
Until we didn’t.
Thankfully, before Nate can lose his cool and affect his standing in the neighborhood hierarchy, a woman I haven’t met approaches pushing a stroller that looks like it may have been designed by NASA.
“Good morning, Angela.” Nate’s peppy voice is unrecognizable from the deep, gravelly tone he had only moments ago. “How’s Mr. Liam doing today?”
What a freaking phony.
“Oh my goodness, Nate!” Angela engages the brake on her stroller. “You’re soaking wet! Are you okay?”
I don’t even attempt to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I mean, calm down, Angela. It’s June. Poor, precious Nate isn’t going to catch a chill.
“I’m fine. It’s only water.” He waves her off. “Just a little misunderstanding between me and Collins.”
Up until that point, I’m pretty sure Angela didn’t even notice I was standing there. She trains her eyes on me, taking her time to measure me up from head to toe and dismissing me just as quickly. It’s not a new experience for me in this town, being made to feel as if I’m invisible, not worthy of anything, but it’s still triggering AF.
The only thing worse than feeling like an outcast is feeling like nothing at all.
“Are you sure?” She bends over and reaches into the basket beneath the stroller. “I have a—”
“Thank you, but I’m sure.” Nate cuts her off. “I don’t want to hold you up any longer. Liam needs to get his walk in before it gets too hot outside.”
Now, if I didn’t hate Nate and he didn’t hate me, I might think he not only noticed the way Angela dismissed me but didn’t like it either. I might think that he very politely sent her on her way not because he’s concerned for Liam’s walk but because he’s concerned for me.
It’s a good thing I know better.
“So . . .” Nate says once Angela is out of earshot. “You’re a gardener now?”
“Small talk? Really?” I’m so not in the mood for this. He can fool everyone else, but he won’t fool me. Not again. “What do you want, Nate?”
He drags a hand through his thick black hair and groans. The low, deep rumble sends vibrations running through the ground and the worn-out rubber on my feet. I’m ashamed to admit that I feel it between my thighs.
“Listen, Collins. I don’t like you and you don’t like me. That’s fine,” he starts, and I have no idea where he’s going with this. “But I respect your parents and if you’re going to be my neighbor, the least we could do is figure out how to be civil toward one another. At least enough that we’re not spraying each other with water.”
God.
Even when he’s trying to make a truce, he’s still an arrogant, insufferable asshole.
“First of all, you know I didn’t spray you on purpose. Please stop trying to twist this into something that didn’t happen.” I stop and draw in a long inhale through my nose when I feel my pulse beginning to race. “Second, I have no problem being civil. Not sure you noticed, but I was minding my own business. You’re the one that chose to come over here and bother me, not the other way around.”
“I see civility is off the table,” he mumbles beneath his breath, which only further pisses me off. “So you planted this tree? What kind is it?”
I feel a little whiplash at the rapid change in topic, but I answer in hopes that it will send him on his way faster.
“I did.” I omit that I’m only doing this because my mom has banned my dad from all garden work for a week. It’s none of his business and it will only prolong this conversation. “It’s a white oak. I never got to garden in LA, so I’m going all out while I’m home.”
“That makes sense. Starving artists don’t typically have the space or funds to do stuff like this, huh?”
“Yup.” I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me. This is how Nate operates. I might’ve played into his games at the coffee shop, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction today. “I totally starved myself through Hollywood events and pitching my shows to execs. I should’ve joined the HOA like you.”
“That’s a nice way of saying you’ve been failing for ten years. Opportunity after opportunity, and yet—” He gestures to the space around us. “Here you are. Back at Mommy and Daddy’s house.”
It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to react to hearing my negative self-talk coming out of someone else’s mouth, but I manage.
Barely.
“And to think, my fallback plan is your first choice.” I hit him where I know it hurts. Once upon a time we were best friends; it’s how we’re able to take each other down with such brutal accuracy. “It’s easy to seem like a success when you aim low. Am I right?”
“Screw you, Collins.” The mask he wears for everyone else slips and the real Nate reveals himself. “You were right to leave. Now, get over whatever hissy fit you’re throwing so you can hurry up and abandon the only people that care about you. Again.”
He turns to leave, not wanting to give me the chance to have the last word. But as he marches away, my blood feels like lava sifting through my veins. The heat and pressure swelling inside me make it impossible to contain my temper any longer.
“Hey, Nate.” I reach down for the hose I’d forgotten about as he takes his time to turn and face me. “Just so we’re clear, this time? It’s on purpose.”
I push the lever all the way up, aiming the nozzle and hitting my target dead-on. Nate barely flinches as the cold water rains down on him.
I don’t know how long we stand there, both glaring and silently shouting everything we could never say out loud before he finally turns to leave.
“You’re going to regret that, Collins Carter!” he shouts over his shoulder, not looking back once.
Instead of the fear I’m sure he was intending, petty giddiness makes my skin tingle with anticipation of battles to be fought.
“Bring it on, Nathanial Adams!”
He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to bring him to his fucking knees.