“Hey,” he says, closing the book and laying it on the floor beside him.
“Hey. Mind if I come in?”
“Never.” He moves to his right a little, even though there’s plenty of room on the floor for me already. He pats the spot next to him and I walk over and lay my laptop on the bed, then fold my legs under me and sit down.
I owe him an apology, and for whatever reason, it doesn’t come easy. I wring my hands together, my fingers practically white at the knuckles until Nate places his hand on top of mine. The second his skin touches my skin, all the tension in my body just melts away. Even though he knows I have something to say, he doesn’t press me for it; he just gives me all the time I need.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I’m really sorry that I left the way that I did earlier.”
He lets out a little laugh. “It’s not like we could’ve kept going.”
“No, but I could’ve stayed. I just-”
“It’s okay.”
Finally, I turn my head and look over at him. His eyes are clear, his expression soft, and the smile on his face is genuine. I get lost in that smile for a beat longer than I should before I make myself turn away. Looking at the floor in front of me, I notice all the photographs scattered there. Next to them is a photo album, opened to a page somewhere in the middle.
“What’s this?” I ask, leaning forward and plucking a photo out of the pile. It’s a picture of Ben and Nate, and it has to be at least ten years old. They both look nearly identical, only their faces are less angular, still softened by the early adolescent pudge they hadn’t quite lost yet. The two of them are standing in the middle of what must be a forest clearing, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. They’re both wearing white tees with The Wright Stuff written across the chest. Try as I might, I can’t help but laugh. “What are these shirts?”
Nate shakes his head like he knew this was coming, but he doesn’t really look all that embarrassed and there’s something about it that’s endearing. “That was taken at some family reunion. That year was the Wright family reunion, so the theme was The Wright Stuff. Of course we had to have shirts. Mom’s also really big on the mister Wright with a ‘W’-slash-mister right with an ‘R’ comparisons, just so you can prepare yourself for that when she gives her toast at the wedding on Saturday.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say. I don’t dare tell him that I think those t-shirts were kind of adorable. “So you were just feeling nostalgic tonight?”
“Mom wanted me to find some pictures of Ben and me as kids so she could put them up on this cork board she’s going to have at the reception. This should be sufficiently embarrassing for him.”
“I think it’s cute,” I say, trailing my fingertip along the edge of the photograph. “And you were cute.”
“Were?” Nate asks, teasing.
I shrug. “I don’t know that I’d describe you as cute now.”
“What would you describe me as?”
I feel the blush creep up my neck into my cheeks, and avoid looking at him by averting my attention to a stack of photos to the right of the album. I pick it up and flip through the pictures one by one. They’re all of Nate in his ridiculously gorgeous outdoorsy glory. Camping, waterskiing. Snowboarding. It’s not until I’m halfway through the pile that I come across one of him with a woman. She’s got bright blonde sun-kissed hair, and her cheeks are rosy from the cold air. The two of them are standing in front of a beige tent, and there’s a beautiful crystal-blue lake in the background. Nate is kissing this woman, the kind of kiss where you can see them smiling even though their lips are pressed together, and I take a deep breath to push down the tide of jealousy that I feel rising inside of me.
“Was she your girlfriend?” I ask, tilting my head up to look at him.
He nods. “Caroline. We dated in college.”
“What happened?” I ask, not even stopping to think about how it really isn’t any of my business. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
Nate grins. It’s a sweet kind of smile; one that I haven’t seen on him before. “It’s okay. We graduated from college and she moved to Connecticut for a job. We tried to make it work for a couple of months, but it was the kind of relationship that thrived on keggers and weekend retreats. Not that great in real life.”
I crinkle my brow, kind of surprised that he’s being so honest. “Was she your last girlfriend?”
He laughs. “No, there have been a few since.”
“A few?” I shouldn’t be surprised, I don’t even know why I am. Look at him, I mean…how could he be single for long?
“Mercy, Jane and Rachel. One was long term, and the other two, well…not so much.”
“They couldn’t handle your charm?” I tease, bumping his shoulder with mine.
Nate takes a deep breath. “Rachel couldn’t handle me leaving the cap off the toothpaste and leaving crumbs on the counter after I made a sandwich. Neither of which I do anymore, for the record,” he says. “Jane couldn’t handle the fact that I was not, and could not ever be just like her ex-boyfriend. He was perfect, apparently. She made sure to tell me that often. Mercy and I, we just didn’t fit.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it,” I tell him, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. “I should start telling everyone that Ethan and I just didn’t fit, instead of, you know, telling them what happened.”
Nate shrugs. “It’s the truth though, regardless of what got you to the not fitting part of things.”
“And you just keep trying? Keep putting yourself out there?” The idea of moving from potential broken heart to potential broken heart just astounds me. I can’t wrap my brain around it.
“I’m not going to find the woman who fits unless I date a few who don’t.”
“And what if no one fits?” It hurts a little to say the words aloud, although I know that’s because this is my fear. I don’t think Nate worries about being alone for the rest of his life.
“That would suck,” he says, his blue eyes locked with mine. “But at least I’d be able to say that I tried. It seems like a lonely life, not trying.”
“It’s a heartbreak-free life.”
“True, but what’s the good without the bad?”
He has a point, and even though I really wish I could argue with it, I can’t. I admire the positivity in his outlook on life, but I know it comes from a place deep inside of him that’s firmly rooted in positivity based on the way he grew up. His sister is married, and his brother is getting married in a few days. His parents have been together forever. For someone like me, relationship positivity isn’t so easy to come by. I didn’t grow up the same way he did.
“It seems like a lot of people in your family have found their fit,” I tell him.
“And a lot of people in yours haven’t.” He just knows, not that it’d be all that difficult to figure out.
I laugh, but it’s short and bitter, and I don’t like the way it makes Nate look at me, like he’s half concerned and way too curious. Like he’s finally able to piece together the parts of my life that hadn’t been making sense to him before.
“That’s an understatement,” I tell him, trying like hell to sound cheerful. But I don’t really want to get into this right now, so I look down at the pictures that I’m still holding. I flip through a few more, and this set is just of Nate, no Caroline. He’s skiing in one, and jumping off a cliff into a lake in another. “You really do jump off cliffs, don’t you?”
He smiles and shrugs. “Sometimes.”
“You like the feeling of falling?”
“There’s nothing else in the world like it,” he replies, his eyes so bright and intense and full of meaning. Meaning that I can’t quite figure out. “I climb things too, just so you know.”