The Best Kind of Trouble (18 page)

My heart sank as thoughts of Caleb and Nathan competed in my mind.

Whatever it was between Caleb and me, I was sure he didn’t feel the same way as I did.  The rush and excitement, the dizzying breathlessness, the passion and pain and undeniable feeling of falling in love or lust or some explosive combination of both.

Why is he always gotta be calling me when I'm lonely?

~Sheryl Crow

The following night I was scrolling through my fan page, crying.  The comments ranged from supportive to downright mean and ugly.  Every time I saw The Picture, my stomach jolted. Thick ugly emotions swirled inside me.

A pounding on the door had me drying my tears and rushing to open it.  I pulled it open, and the words I was about to say died on my tongue. Shock slammed into me, forcing the air from my lungs. 

Standing there, taking up the entire door way, was Nathan.

Anger exploded like red hot lava inside me.

“Why are you here?" I screeched, half sobbing.  My emotions and nerves were too raw to try to conceal anything. "Why? Why when I--"

I swallowed back the words. But Nathan didn't let it go. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to me, quietly shutting the door behind him. 

He was too close. The look in his eyes too intense, too gut-wrenchingly tender. The clean and spicy smell of him too familiar. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"When what, doll face?"

I shook my head and bit my lip. The sound of my nickname on his lips made me unravel that much more. 

Another step closer.

“Face,” he murmured, his voice soft and intimate.

I swallowed hard and looked away, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

Then he completely closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me to his chest.  My feelings and emotions were a churning mixed up mess as the past and present collided.

"Tell me, baby," he commanded softly.

I took in a deep stuttering breath, shook my head and managed to pull myself away from him.

With my back turned, I whispered, "Why, Nate?"

He let out a long, regretful breath.  "I'm so sorry, Face," he sighed brokenly. "I don't even know where to start."

I balled my hands, fresh anger welled up inside my chest.

"How about with the cute little brunette that was kissing you on TV?" I bit out.

What the hell Ashley?

I didn’t even know why that was the first thing that came to mind. I knew my voice sounded bitter and angry and jealous. And maybe I didn't have a right to be. I had just spent an entire three months with another guy.

But, dammit, I was.

I quickly pushed thoughts of Caleb from my mind. I hadn't heard from him since that night and I didn't even have a way to get a hold of him. That relationship was a false start from the beginning.

Nathan blanched and made a choking noise in the back of his throat. "You saw that?"

I spun around, and narrowed my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh yeah,” I said. “I saw that."

Nathan's bright blue eyes collided with mine. Deep blue and full of…
God
, I didn’t even know. Something that made my heart stutter and my breath falter.

Then he looked away and raked his fingers through his rumpled dark hair. For the first time since I'd opened my door I took him in. He seemed bigger. Broader. The muscles in his chest and arms and shoulders bulged stretching his white t-shirt taut against his tanned skin.

He looked up and his eyes locked on mine again. Nathan crossed his arms across the broad expanse of his chest. A determined glint sparkled in his eyes, washing out the blue and turning them a steel gray.

"I want to know what you were going to say, Face."

I narrowed my eyes. "No. You already know anyways."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Well you don't get to!" I shouted.
Arrogant son of a bitch.
My emotions were a broiling mess. Ragged, inflamed, and exposed.

Nathan refused to back down. Instead, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us.

“Where’s the boyfriend, Face.”

I scowled at him. “I…no…how can you—”

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He was making me feel off balanced. I smacked his hand away.

“Don’t,” I warned him.

Nathan closed his eyes at my scathing tone and instantly took two steps back, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

An awkward silence stretched between us.  Watching him, I wasn’t sure if I was angry over his words or hurting over how frustrated and upset he looked. Maybe both.

Finally, he opened his eyes and said, “Ashley, I’m sorry.  I’m just…it’s just so complicated and fucked up. And I miss you, and—”

“Stop,” I pleaded.  “I can’t do this with you right now.”

I turned away from him again and started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets looking for a glass and any alcohol I could fine.  I couldn’t deal with this Nathan. He was sad and apologetic. Heartbroken.

I shook my head, trying to clear the image of his miserable blue eyes and the vulnerable intensity of his gaze.

Heartbroken Nathan amped up my urge to run to him and kiss him and fall in his arms and beg him to make love to me.

Fuck. I’m in trouble.

Finally, I pulled down two small tumblers and a dusty bottle of whiskey Katie and I had been saving.

I poured a generous amount into each glass and then leaned against the counter and took all of mine in one gulp.  The whiskey burned my throat and warmed my belly in the same breath.

Nathan crossed the short distance between us and took the other glass, lifting it to his lips and pouring the amber liquid down his throat. 

I watched him from the corner of my eye. My belly tightened with the stark reality of his presence. It felt both right and wrong in the same moment.

Nathan set his glass down and I poured more in both our glasses. After that round, Nathan broke the silence.

Looking into his glass in a hushed voice he confessed, “She was my high school sweetheart.”

I froze. Every muscle in me went rigid. The breath knocked from my lungs and for a minute I struggled to even breathe.
Was he actually going to tell me about it?

“She cheated on me,” he continued.  I poured another round with trembling fingers, desperate for something to help me deal with this conversation. 

“With my best friend. I had left to play football here and he’d stayed there with her to go to the community college,” Nathan explained.

Nathan took a deep breath.  “She broke my heart.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.  It was stupid, but those four words felt like more of a betrayal than that blond bimbo he’d fucked in the bathroom.

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet, hoping he’d reveal more if I did.  This was the most honest and open he’d ever been with me. And I was suddenly craving that honesty, that connection. The closure this conversation could offer.

Unbidden, a snippet of conversation from our first date snaked through my mind.

"So you've never met someone you wanted to get serious with?"

The smiled slipped from his face, and his blue eyes locked on mine. After a couple of seconds he replied, "I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you say?"

"That when I meet the right the girl, I'll know."

His lie crashed into me.

“Last summer, I’d went home and she’d shown up and begged for forgiveness,” he continued.  “We started things back up, but I wasn’t sure that I’d forgiven her or if it was just unresolved feelings and lust fueling everything.”

Nathan looked up at me and our eyes collided. 
Had he wondered the same thing about us? Is that why he lied?

I chewed on my lip, but I didn’t look away.  I couldn’t.

“Face,” he said, his voice low and soft.  “I don’t…I can’t even begin to…”

“When I need you,” I interrupted his stammering. 

His brow furrowed in confusion momentarily.  A second later, I saw the realization sweep over his chiseled features.  He leaned toward me and I instinctively tilted my chin up. His eyes darted back and forth between mine. Questions swam like sharks in his eyes.

Then his gaze dropped to my lips.

Nathan reached out and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and then ran his thumb over my plump bottom lip.  His eyes followed the movement.

My stomach flipped and all logic fled my mind for a brief suspended moment. The heartache and longing carved into his features, that was transparent in his eyes, knocked into me. I wanted him. I needed him. I’d been pining and craving him for months, desperate for this chemistry between us. It was one kiss away from bursting into flames.

“Ashley,” he whispered, his voice so deep and rough I felt it in my bones.  “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you.”

I wanted so badly to close the distance between us. To kiss him and forget the pain and regret and circumstances that had kept us apart. I leaned in, but his words from our first date floated back to me again.

If she's not the one, why get serious?

These flames, this fire, would consume me whole. Again. I pulled away. Whatever electricity had been pulsing between us fizzled.

“But you won’t,” I said.  My voice was cold. It felt like all the heat had been extinguished, snuffed out.  “And if you did, you’d just end up running away again.”

I turned to walk away.

“She was pregnant,” he said, stopping me in my tracks.  “After I met you.  She had come to that first game, saw me kiss you, and told me that night that she was pregnant. And that it was mine.”

I stayed rooted to the spot.  Unable to turn to look at him.  Unable to move away. I was paralyzed. Frozen to the spot.  I heard him moved closer to me, so close I could feel the heat of his body.

“I was really confused,” he whispered.  “I was falling for you, but I thought maybe I still loved her too. I didn’t know what to do.  And then after I broke up with you, seeing you with other guys killed me.  Made me fucking crazy.  I wanted you, but being with her was the right thing to do.”