Chapter 16
Morgan
The week slips by me and I hardly notice because I’m so busy playing catch-up. My trip to Planters Grove really messed with my school work. But it’s Friday now and I’m feeling like I have a handle on things again.
Nate and I are seated in the dining hall, having lunch, as has become our habit on days we have class together. Not much has changed between us.
We’ve spent each day like we’re still only friends and he’s started helping me in another one of my classes. It’s like our make-out session never happened and he’s totally hands-off now.
Well, that’s not entirely true. He does occasionally touch my hair or act like he’s going to reach for my hand, then thinks better of it. It feels like a punch to the gut every time.
Last Saturday, when I showed up in his room plastered, he said I just needed to give it time. Is that what we’re doing? Waiting for time to pass? Because this sucks ass, as far as I’m concerned.
Nate doesn’t act any different towards me, as he would if this was bothering him. He still cracks jokes and does nice things for me. We still spend a lot of our time together. Yet, I keep waiting for something from him. A sign or another declaration.
Did I misunderstand his intentions? Because I distinctly recall Nate telling me he broke up with a girl in order to pursue me, and the pursuit seems to have come to a halt—which I loathe.
I want the pursuit, even if I can’t commit. I should feel bad about being such a bratastical attention junky, but I don’t. We likes it. We wants the precious.
Neither of us has brought up anything regarding the Alex situation. He’s doing great and should be going home this weekend. Agnes called and asked me to come be a part of his welcome-home party. I politely declined and could tell I had offended her.
It wasn’t my intention to hurt anyone’s feelings. I was just home last week for three nights and it makes my school life tremendously difficult when I’m not on campus taking care of things.
Plus, I need to start making myself less and less a part of Alex’s life if I want to extract myself from the situation. I’m doing it as slowly and kindly as I can.
I’ve texted Alex twice to check on him, but he hasn’t replied. I’m sure he’s caught up in his own web of misery. At least he’s on the mend. That should help his emotional state. Eventually.
Nate’s a little quiet today. It makes me anxious. He says it’s because he’s under a deadline for some new chapters of his book, but I don’t believe him. Maybe if we hang out socially, instead of as study buddies, it will help ease the tension I’m feeling.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask.
“We’re cleaning the house and setting up some stuff for tomorrow.” He doesn’t look at me when he speaks.
“Oh, what’s tomorrow?”
“Tau Fall Date Night.”
Ever feel like two weights are attached to the corners of your mouth and you have to hold them up so the world doesn’t know you’re sad? Because I know the feeling. Right now, I know it. I’ve never been so aware of the mechanics of a frown and how difficult it is to pull the corners back up to neutral.
Nate didn’t ask me to his fraternity’s date night. It makes me feel sick. Though, I can’t really blame him, I guess.
Who would take someone else’s girlfriend as a date? Not the man of perfection. He’s better than that. But I still feel wretched about not being his choice.
Shit. If Nate didn’t ask me, then he must have asked someone else. The all-too-familiar burning sensation starts behind my eyes and I know I’m going to cry. I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
I’m not in a position to claim him. Maybe I’ve totally misread this whole thing.
“Oh. That will be fun for you guys.”
It’s a goddamned miracle I said it without my voice cracking. And because I’m really into mental torture, I ask, “Who are you taking?”
I keep my head bowed towards the table and move food around my plate, waiting for him to throw out a name of some slut blossom that I’m going to have to shiv like the dirty prison whore she is.
He doesn’t answer me. I brave a peek at his face only to be met with Nate’s icy glare. Oops.
“Sorry, you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
“Are you fucking serious right now, Morgan?”
Now my eyeballs are on fire and there’s no stopping the flood that’s filling them. Nate’s never cussed at me before. At least I don’t cry out and draw attention. Because that would be the typical sort of trouble I bring upon myself on any given day of the week.
“Shit,” he spits out. “Morgan—”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Excuse me,” I say as I make quick work of grabbing my tray and high-tailing it to the return area on my way out the door.
I hurry to the enclosed space where students hang their backpacks and reach for mine. Before I can get it off the hook, Nate has a hold of my forearm.
He puts his other hand on my opposite shoulder and turns me to face him. He frowns, taking in the hot mess that is Morgan Pottinger.
My face is soaked with my tears and I’m sure I’m all red and blotchy. I’m starting to realize that I’m truly not good enough for him. Nobody should have to deal with my freak show.
“Morgan, I didn’t ask anyone. How could you possibly think I would?”
I shake a little, not really believing his words.
“I volunteered for kitchen duty tomorrow. Even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have asked someone else. Do you not remember the conversation we had before you left for Planters Grove?”
“I—I remember. I just thought … I thought …”
“You thought I’d already moved on?” he asks.
I nod.
Nate hugs me and rubs my back. Some of the strain inside my body loosens. I don’t think I can handle any more emotional roller coaster rides. It’s making me nauseous.
“Morgan, I told you to give it a little time. Alex will heal, you’ll be able to speak candidly with him, and then you’ll be free of all this turmoil. Just be patient.”
I exhale loudly into his shirt. I think I got snot on it. Nate’s just going to have to deal as I’m obviously in no position to do anything about it except laugh.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I acted like that.”
“I disagree. I think you know exactly why you reacted as you did, but you don’t want to say it aloud.”
“And you’re still a dick,” I say, but at least I can say it with a smile now. According to Rebecca, everyone smiles when making dick jokes. Who knew it was true?
Nate laughs. “Perhaps. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong. In fact, I’m usually right.”
“You really should talk to someone about your self-esteem issues.”
And just like that, we’re back. The panic is all but gone and my eyes are dry. The know-it-all really does know what he’s doing.
Humor might legitimately be the best medicine. Oh, and Nate’s body helps. Too bad I’m not allowed to have it.
Nate
I cannot believe she thought for a second that I had invited someone else to the date night. I tried to be clear about why I ended my relationship with Taylor.
Did she not understand me? I’m guessing she panicked and couldn’t think logically. Morgan really is a lovable mess this week.
I let go of her, grab her backpack and help her put it on. Her hair gets caught in the shoulder strap and I carefully pull it free. I let my hand linger, touching the silky strands that mesmerize me.
I want the rights to touch her hair whenever I want. I want her to have the same rights to me.
I take some comfort in the fact that she got upset over believing I had sought out a date with someone else. I would have gone ballistic, had our roles been reversed.
I grab my own bag and throw it over my shoulder. I have to stop myself from taking ahold of her hand.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yup,” she says, following me out of the campus center and onto the sidewalk that leads back to the Omega house.
“So …”
I look over at her, waiting for her to continue. Her mouth is twisted, like she’s trying to stop words from coming out.
“So?” I prompt.
“Friends?” she asks.
“Absolutely.”
Morgan twists her lips around again. I don’t know what she’s needing right now. Reassurance, most likely.
“Morgan, nothing has to change right now. Let’s just take things day by day. Eventually, when you’re ready to move forward, you’ll tell me.”
“Oh, I’m ready, Nate.”
I chortle at the adamancy of her words. I’ll count the days until she can say them freely.
“No, you’re not. You’re feeling a little trapped. And guilty. Let’s not do anything to add to that guilt. I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not ready to do. Got it?”
Morgan nods and says, “Okay.”
We walk in silence the rest of the way. She keys into the side door of her house, and turns around so we’re face to face while she holds the door with her hip.
“You’re kinda perfect, ya know.”
My cheeks start to heat and I think I’m blushing for the first time since I got caught with my dad’s nudy magazines when I was ten. Damn her and how easily she gets to me.
“Yeah, well, you said it,” I gloat, trying to turn it into a joke.
Morgan smiles and my heart jumps into my throat. I think she’s got the perfect thing backwards.