Torrid Affair (10 page)

I looked at him, confused. “Julian had told Sonia what I planned to do, in detail, apparently. A few days later, I was relocated to a different foster family. I hated that I left Julian behind but I had no choice. A few years later, a woman knocked on the door and announced I had been adopted.”

Nate’s teeth ran across his lower lip, and a few seconds passed before he spoke again. “Louisa came and picked me up. I had no idea what was going on until we pulled up to her house and Julian came running out. Shortly after I was shipped off to the new foster home, Julian’s mother got her life together. She fought to get her rights back and then started the application to adopt me. He’s the reason I was taken out of the system. They gave me a home.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear dripped from my cheek and landed on the back of my hand. Nate downed the remainder of his drink and licked the corners of his lips. Shaking my head in disbelief, I wiped away my tears. “I’m so sorry, Nate. I had no clue.”

He shrugged and exhaled. “It was a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you go with Julian to Louisa’s for Christmas break?”

“I hate that she helps me pay my tuition. I know she considers me her son, but I hate that I depend on her. The reason I did two years of community college was because I didn't want her to pay for me. When I enrolled here, the tuition was still more than I could handle, so she gladly handed me a check. Any extra work I can do around campus to help lower what she has to pay is better than me sitting on her couch for four weeks. She gave me everything I ever wanted, and I don’t want her money. Her love is all I need.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to the shelter?”

“My first Thanksgiving with Louisa, we all went as a family. Apparently, when she was getting her life together, this shelter gave her a safe place to stay. It’s how she pays them back. My first time going, there was a man in charge of the whole organization. I noticed right away that he looked like me. Louisa later told me he was my biological father, the one who walked out on me when I was two years old. And you know what? He was there with his wife and three children. I had been shipped off to foster homes to live with people like Roger, and there he was looking like a saint because he funded the program.”

“Shit, Nate…”

“That was my first and only time. I asked Louisa if I could never go back and she agreed.”

“That makes sense.” I reached for the remote and pressed the on button. I couldn’t take anymore horrible stories. “Do you want to watch something?” I flicked through the channels.

“I don’t care. Whatever you want.” He reached for the half empty bottle of Coquito. “But you should probably make some more of this.”

I threw him the remote and pushed quickly off the couch to my feet. My head spun. The alcohol wasn’t helping. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.” Nate moved from the computer chair and sat on the couch where I had been. I walked over to the makeshift kitchen and popped two Pop-Tarts into the toaster and two hot pockets into the microwave before I busied myself with my next batch of Coquito. I poured the batch into another glass bottle and set it in the fridge to chill.

Nate found the first
Home Alone
on TV as I handed him a plate. “Hot Pockets and Pop-Tarts?” He looked down at the plate and then up at me. “Dinner and dessert.” I plopped down on the seat next to him. “Don’t say I never made you anything.”

When I sat, Nate stared at me intently, as though he had something on his mind.

“What?” I asked as I folded back the paper box to my hot pocket.

“I broke up with Delaney.” His gaze was locked on mine and the room began to spin. It was more like my heartbeat began to race.

“Why?” My voice was barely audible.

“Because she's not the girl I want to be with.”

I remained silent for a few seconds. His tongue ran across his lips and I scolded myself for the thoughts that ran through my mind.

“Nate . . .” I shook my head.

“I know.” He nodded and looked down at his food. “She’s your best friend. But Brie, you're
my
best friend, so if it's okay with you, I want to stay your friend.”

A grin grew on my face. “I'd like that very much.”

We ate, drank the rest of the bottle, and finished watching the movie. Nate chuckled and laughed at the TV and I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. When the credits began to scroll, I leaned my head back on the cushion and faced him. His gaze scanned the room.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you anti-Christmas?”

“No,” I slurred.

“Then why don’t you have a single decoration?”

“I don’t know. I was focused on finals.”

“It’s very depressing.” His gaze locked with mine again and a grin grew on his face. “You can always paint something on the wall.” I cocked my head to the side and lifted one eyebrow. “Right there!” He pointed to the blank wall behind me. “You can paint a whole tree right there. And I’ve seen your sketches. You can draw.”

I looked back at the white wall. “I guess you’re right.”

He stood and reached out for me. “Let's paint us a Christmas tree.”  

“Are you insane?” I slapped his hand away.

“Are you scared?” His dark eyebrows arched mysteriously.

I jumped off the couch and jogged over to my art supplies. I pulled out the few tubes of paint I had and walked it over to him.

“That’s it?” He looked at the tubes in my hand and then back up. “That’s all you have?”

I lined them up on the coffee table.  “How big do you want this tree?”

“Most Christmas trees are what? Six feet tall?”

I stretched my hand above my head. “The only place we will find that amount of paint right now is in the art room, and that’s closed.”

“What if we break in?”

“That’s it!” I leaned over and took his cup. “No more alcohol for you.”

“Come on, Brie.” He reached up and his fingers snagged a curl that had fallen on my face. Not only was I drunk off the rum, but the second his hand touched my skin I felt high. “Please,” he added in a lower, huskier tone.

The stupid box had busted opened.

Within five minutes, we had our coats on and were running across campus toward the art center. The alcohol rushed through my body; the trees and lamp posts blurred past me as I jogged behind Nate to catch up.

The air was cool and crisp as it hit my face.  When we arrived at the art center, Nate jiggled the door but it didn’t budge. I stood next to him bent over as I tried to fill my lungs with air.

“Dude,” I gasped. “I feel like I ran a marathon.”

I straightened and rested my head on the red brick of the wall. Nate’s gaze scanned the building and surrounding area before he grabbed my hand. “Come on.” He led us around to the back. “I’ll boost you up to that window.” He pointed to one a few feet higher than my head.

“Okay . . . but that’s a
closed
window,” I retorted.

“No, it’s not.” He led me under the opening in question and made a stirrup of his hands on his knee. “Trust me. Step on my hands.”

“This is crazy.”

“Come on before someone drives by and sees us.”

I exhaled and shook out my hands as though I was releasing the nerves from my body, then took a few steps backward so I could get a running start. I jogged toward Nate, laid my hands on his broad shoulders, then stepped into his hands and in one swift motion he lifted me high and my waist was level with the upper story window. I pressed my hands against the cool glass pane and pushed it up. After it slid open a few inches I climbed in.

I found myself in an empty classroom “Holy shit!” I peeked my head out the window to where Nate was smiling up at me with a wide grin. “How the hell did you know?”

“Step back.” He motioned with his hand for me to move. He took a few steps back then ran and jumped up. His hands met with the window sill and he pulled himself up.

He closed the window. “You good?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly.

“Let’s go get us some paint.”

We made our way out of the empty classroom and down the long, dark hallway. I stood behind him, and his tall frame shielded me from anyone who might be walking toward us. We jogged up two flights of stairs and over to the art supply closet. Like the building doors, it too was closed.

“Now what?” I muttered.

“Patience.” Nate shoved his hand into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and retrieved what looked like a couple of bobby pins.

“You just happen to keep those on you?” I joked.

“When you grow up like I did.” He shoved the first pin inside the keyhole. “When foster dad after foster dad shoves you into the bedroom and locks the door from the outside.” He wiggled the second one in. “You learn to pick locks at a very young age.”

Images of a young Nate being bruised, hurt, and locked in a room flashed through my mind. My lips parted to say I was sorry, but Nate pushed the door open.

“Come on, let’s grab some paint.”

Nate and I stuffed our pockets with tubes and paint. I grabbed every red and green tube there was while Nate focused on all the other colors of the rainbow. Once our pockets were filled, we rushed out of the room and down the long hallway. Nate opened the window and jumped out. He turned and looked up at me.

“Come on.”

“It’s too high,” I whispered.

“I’ll catch you.”

“Fuck.” I exhaled, then climbed out of the window and sat on the ledge. “This seems higher than before.”

“You’re drunk. If you hurt yourself, you won’t feel it.”

“Thanks.”

“On three, push off. One. Two. Three—”

I pushed off the ledge and fell directly into Nate’s arm. “Holy shit!”

“See? Not so bad.”

I slid down his body. When my feet were secured on the ground, I asked him, “How did you know that window would be open?”

“I had a class in that room my first semester here. The teacher was always late and there was this one kid who smoked outside that window. He broke the lock and they never fixed it. I took a chance and hoped it was still broken, because if not, we’d still be out here.”

I laughed and slapped his chest. “You made me break into school.”

“You only live once. Let’s go; we have a tree to paint.” Nate began to run.

* * *

N
ate poured
us another cup of Coquito as I set up the paint and brushes. This was probably the worst idea ever to paint while under the influence, but I was having too much fun to stop now.
Home Alone 2
played in the background as we painted the bare wall next to my computer desk red. I drew out a larger rectangle as our guideline. It was six feet tall and three feet wide. I worked on the lower portion of the square while Nate focused on the top.

“Can I ask you something?” I said once we found our painting groove.

“What’s up?”  

I knew it was the alcohol speaking, but I couldn’t stop the words that began to pour out of my mouth. “Why did you ask me out if you were sorta seeing Del already?”

I felt Nate go still for a few seconds before he began to paint again. “I took your parking spot knowing you were waiting for it, and I kind of felt bad, but I was late. Then, when you walked toward class, you stared at me with those brown eyes and I knew I was in for it. I knew I wanted to know more about you.”

I shook my head and continued to focus on the red paint.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice bounced off the wall and straight into my heart.

“Sure.”

“Why have you been avoiding me since the Christmas bash?”

I shifted to paint the other corner. “I wasn’t ignoring you, per se. It’s more like I’m embarrassed since I puked in front of you.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact we almost kissed?”

Shocked by his question, I dropped my paintbrush into a cup filled with water. “Shit.” I exhaled and shook the excess water off the brush. Droplets of water bounced off the brush and landed on Nate’s jeans—little red dots that covered the legs of his pants. “Uh oh,” I whispered and began to giggle.

“What did you do?” He looked down at me.

“Nothing.”

“Brie, what did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear.” I sat back and laughed until tears pooled in my eyes.

“What is it?” Nate looked around. It wasn’t until he lifted his feet that he noticed the red paint splattered all over his jeans. “You sneaky little . . .”

“It was an accident, I swear.” I held my stomach as I laughed. Nate dipped his paintbrush into a cup of water and looked at me. His eyes held mischief, and a sideways grin appeared on his face. “Don’t!” I held up a hand to block him but he completely ignored my request and flicked the brush. Wet red paint flew at me, red dots covering my clothes.

Nate laughed as I rushed to stand. Grabbing my brush, I charged toward him. He read my mind and grabbed my wrist, pinning me to the wall. All the air vanished from my lungs. His hard body pressed against mine and I dropped the paintbrush when I felt his erection growing between us. My breath came out in spurts as I found the courage to look up at him. His eyes pierced mine and his need for me was as clear as day.  

Nate released his grip of my hands and reached for my face. His hands tightened around the hair at the nape of my neck. “For months I’ve been trying to forget what your lips felt like.” His nose ran up the side of mine and along my cheek. “I should have kissed you that night—and not a half one.” His warm breath was on my skin; his mouth only millimeters away. “I should have grabbed you like this and had one taste of your lips, even if it was just that once.” He pressed his erection into my pelvis and I lifted my leg around his waist, letting him push against my core. “Tell me not to do this, Brie.”