The sun is peeking over the horizon just as Nathan exits his apartment building. I whip my head away from him. I can’t meet his eyes yet. I know I should be mature and apologize for what I did back there, but I prefer being childish and pretending it never happened instead.
“Ready?” I ask, bobbing my gaze anywhere and everywhere besides in the direction of his face. “Let’s go!”
I take off at a brisk jog and he has no choice but to catch up. In two seconds flat he’s beside me. His gaze is heavy on the side of my face, I can feel it, and I want to scream I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I don’t know what I was doing back there! I’m in love with my best friend, and I’ve been hiding it from him for ten zillion years, and now all of a sudden I’m deciding to not hide it and see what happens, but I’m too scared to own it, and what if he doesn’t love me back! insert giant inhale here
See? I’m losing it! I’ve lost too many fries from my Happy Meal!
“Hey, might want to slow down,” says Nathan, taking my forearm to tug me lightly. “We’ll burn out if we start in a sprint.” But his touch feels like positive and negative connectors to my dead battery—it jolts me to life and now I want to take off like Speedy Gonzales. “Seriously, Bree. Slow up. We haven’t even had our coffee yet. Why are we running before coffee and donuts, anyway?”
Good question. Answer: because I’m everything all wrong and backward today. I woke up this morning like it was Christmas. TUESDAY! It’s been two whole sleeps since our kiss in the hallway, which was also the last time I saw Nathan. I’ve been busy with dance and he’s been busy with practice and a photo shoot after practice yesterday, so basically, I’ve been dying. （Not to be dramatic.） But when my eyes popped open this morning （at 4:30 AM）， I couldn’t wait any longer—I had to see him. I had to see if all the heat and zings I experienced during that kiss were still there or if he was faking it for the dating facade. I highly doubt it though. He’s a terrible liar—also so fun to play poker with—so I’m thinking he’s into me.
Now, before, this would have sent me screaming in a frenzy and overanalyzing every move he makes. Not the new Bree. The new Bree isn’t worried that Nathan is only into me as a passing fancy. The new Bree isn’t even thinking about that （yes, I am）。 The new Bree is going with the flow! Seeing where this sexy little fling takes me. LAYING IT ON THICK!
I force myself to slow down so I can toss him a normal smile. He frowns, so it probably wasn’t so normal. “Just wasn’t in the mood for donuts.”
“You’re unwell,” he states flatly, so shocked. I couldn’t have told a worse fib. “Come on, let’s take it easy today and go down to the beach.” He veers left, and I have no choice but to follow.
We jog together down a boardwalk and kick off our running shoes when we reach the sand. It’s so early in the morning that the air is still chilly, and the beach is relatively empty. No one is here to watch us or take photos—which makes it all the more startling when Nathan intertwines our fingers and pulls me with him down toward the water. We both stand so that the tide can wash over our feet and ankles. The icy water prickles my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of holding Nathan’s strong hand.
He audibly sighs, making me look up at him. His wavy brown hair flutters around his brow, and the salty air makes the strands at his nape flip up with an extra ounce of rebellion. The wind catches his t-shirt, pushing and pulling it around his abdomen, once again drawing my attention to his perfectly sculpted form. A soft smile curls the side of his mouth as he stares out over the water where the sun is just starting its day.
“I miss the ocean,” he says quietly, and then he looks down at me. “We don’t come down here enough.” His dark features are a direct contrast to the soft blue sky behind him, and yet they somehow complement each other perfectly.
“Life is busy.”
Well, truthfully, his life is busy. Mine is too, but it’s a different sort. I have built-in breaks and days where I kick back and watch TV for no good reason in the middle of the afternoon. I don’t work myself to the bone like he does.