I’m trying to convince myself this is an average sunny day and I’m simply taking a drive with my BFF, but this pumpkin feels an awful lot like a carriage, and it’s making me want to run for the hills. I can practically see the giant pencil in my mind flipping over and smudging its eraser across those beautifully drawn lines that define our friendship.
“Bree?” Nathan prompts again, his brows knitting together in a confused smile. “Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” I blink. “Yeah! Oh yeah. Totally good. Of course I’m going to get in. I was just wondering if they clean those bench seats or not.”
He chuckles, looking at me like I’ve lost my marbles. “Yeah, I assume they do occasionally. Why?”
I shrug. “Just…didn’t want to get in there without knowing for sure. Because they’re so spacious, and people could have done goodness knows what back there, and—”
Nathan steps forward now and starts pushing me by my low back into the SUV. “This is my personal vehicle, Bree. I own it. There’s nothing funky on those seats, don’t worry. Now, please get in or we’re going to be late. And smile, there’s a paparazzi over on that corner catching every bit of your indecision.”
I smile really big and scary up at Nathan to make him laugh and show him just how much I care about paparazzi.
He gives me his full-teeth, cheek-dimples laugh that inflates my heart ten sizes and shakes his head. “You’re all fun and games now until you realize that photographer will have zoomed in dangerously close on your silly face and will splash it all over newsstands tomorrow declaring, Bree Camden cracking under the pressures of newfound fame!”
“I don’t think they would be all that wrong,” I say before I hop into the SUV, slide over to the far side, and suction myself to the window. Oh my gosh there is nothing normal about this vehicle. The leather is butter soft, and there’s an adjacent bench seat that faces this side with a flatscreen TV behind it. My fingers glide over a panel of buttons on my armrest, and after I press one, warm lights fill the space （mood lights） and my seat starts to recline with a footrest popping out.
I turn wide eyes to Nathan, and he’s laughing silently. “You’re like a kid in here.”
“I feel like a kid in here! I’m not supposed to be allowed in fancy places like this. Nathan, I’ll spill something on these million-dollar seats.” I set my seat upright again and cross my hands primly in my lap.
“You don’t have a drink.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’ll happen somehow. You know me—I can’t be trusted with luxurious things.”
“It’s only stuff, Bree. I couldn’t care less. Spill anything you want in here.” His eyes are crinkled in the corners, but what I notice most are the dark circles hovering under those jet black pools.
I tilt my head and reach up to softly tap a finger under each of his eyes. “You’re tired.”
His hair is still slightly damp because he’s fresh from practice. Nathan had to wake up at five AM, work a full day of his usual practice and meetings, putting his body through a complete beating, and now at the end of the day is going to film a commercial for several hours when he should be resting and recuperating.
He takes my wrist and softly wraps his fingers around it. I feel his touch like it’s wrapping around my heart. “I’m okay.”
“You’re overextending yourself. We didn’t have to say yes to this commercial.”
The SUV starts moving. Nathan looks down at my wrist and lowers it but doesn’t let it go. We’re one position shift away from holding hands. “I wanted to do the commercial. It’ll be good for both of us.”
For me. It will be good for me is what he means. Because yes, it’s good for Nathan’s image, but let’s be real, he doesn’t need the money. I do. I want this money so I can pay him back.