Nate rolled over in the covers. Above him the cars cast their dim light through the window into the old popcorn-ed ceiling.
Looking over at Rachel, he noted her facing him, eyes lightly closed and one hand loosely tucked under the sheets near her face.
Ruess thought back to when he'd met her, the only reason he stayed long enough and tolerated the condescendingly pompous Jack Antonoff. Nate had been obscenely reserved throughout the whole ordeal. Jack was messing around with the rest of the Steel Train gang, and Rachel fit right in. Nate just sat back and leaned against a stuccoed wall. Loathing springing from jealousy. He hated it. Man he was such a jack-ass in his early late teens to early twenties. Sam couldn't even get a word out of Nate that night, and Sam being his best friend, he should have been able to. Nate was fuming inside seeing such a well-oiled band as Steel Train. But he was rooted to the spot, intrigued by the natural fluidity and the way her cheeks embodied the moments before a sunrise.
Nate visibly stiffened when he noticed someone waltzing in his direction. He squinted his eyes for a moment to focus on who other then Jack. Cocky bastard, he thought its not like he owns the place. As Jack approached Nate bit his tongue so such malicious thoughts wouldn't escape into words.
"All work and no play?" Jack brushed his hair back, it really didn't help his vision, the unruly coils dropped right back from where they were unwanted in the first place. "Wanna join?" He offered, extending a worn football.
Avoiding response, Nate brushed his own unmanaged hair, (different from Jack's though, his was straight) and reached for a cigarettes in his pocket, leaving Sam to offer jack a tight smile.
"Ah, that's alright." Sam replied to him, feeling awkward through-and-through.
Jack raised one eyebrow as he looked from Nate whom he firstly addressed to Sam. "Alright then." He said uncertainly "Lighten up man, life's not that bad." Jack said to Nate once more, lightly punching him on the shoulder before jogging back to their game of touch football.
Nate let the hit sway him sideways, before steadying himself. He flicked at a lighter and lit his cigarette furrowing his brow for just a second as he watched Jack pick Rachel up and twist her around with the football grasped in both her hands.
After a few drags of cigarette and moments of silence, only interrupted by the shrieks and triumphant yells of the ongoing game, Sam sighed. Nate looked over to see him pat his shoulder a few times.
"I get it man, just one of those nights." He yawned and stretched his arms out in front of him, "You didn't have a bad performance, whatever might be going on in that head of yours." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually it might have been one of your best." He scratched his beard, long overdue for a shave or at least a trim, and left Nate with his wonderings of whatever convoluted ideas he supposed were his fault.
