• BURN ME •

• 18 •

Breathe

~ Tropic Gold

Snow

"How are you?" I ask Nath, curling up cross-legged on my bed, phone pressed to my ear. "Bette," he says, a lightness in his voice, "Sam and Mary are nice. How's Spain?" he asks quietly, and I smile, picturing him finally relaxed and safe. "Great. Glad you're okay." My gaze drifts towards the bathroom door, the soft sound of the shower a constant background hum. "When are you coming back?" Nath asks, pulling me back to the present. "Tomorrow, we fly back around noon, back on Saturday morning. You crashing at Sam's or did he drop you off at Alessio's?" I ask, practicality kicking in, making sure Nath is actually settled. "No, I'm at Sam's. Sleeping in one of his son's old rooms, but I wanted to come over to Alessio's." My cousin explains, and my gaze drifts back to the bathroom door. "Okay, Sunday then?" I suggest, suddenly picturing Flame showing me that club. "Flame said he's showing me the club on Saturday." My eyes fixate on the bathroom door again, tracing the outline of the wood. "Sunday then." Nath agrees, but then a beat of silence, a pause. "Who's Flame?" he asks, and I lick my lips. "He's... a friend's brother," I explain, carefully neutral, trying to downplay the electric current that crackles between Flame and me. I can almost hear his smirk through the phone line. "Hot?" he asks, inevitably, predictably. Just then, as if summoned by the question itself, the bathroom door swings open, and Flame steps out, just in boxer shorts, his skin still damp, hair slicked back, water droplets tracing paths down his chest, dripping onto the floor. My eyes latch onto them, following the glistening trails, and a sudden, sharp pang of longing hits me, a ridiculous urge to lick them away. "Snow?" Nath's voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. "What? Oh... yes," I stammer, my voice a breathy whisper, "Yes, he is." "Your type?" Nath presses, that familiar, knowing tone in his voice. "Or rather... mine?" he adds, the question laced with playful challenge. Nath, always Nath, never hiding, never denying, just open, a little reckless, a little crazy, but in the best way possible.

"Nath, don't even think about it..." I sigh, knowing exactly where his mind is going. "Oh, come on, I'm just asking." He protests, feigning innocence, but we both know better. "Important topic though," he shifts gears, his tone suddenly serious, "how are you?" I know that worried tone all too well. "I'm fine, Nath," I reassure him, my voice softer now, the earlier tension easing, "Settled in." My eyes flick back to Flame. "Cool," Nathaniel says, a warmth entering his voice, "San Diego's really nice. Better than South Dakota, I think." I laugh quietly, a genuine chuckle this time. "That's because you grew up in South Dakota, Nath." Nathaniel laughs too, the sound light. "Maybe," he admits, "Just looking forward to seeing you. Sunday, then. I'll let you pack now." He says, but the underlying affection is clear, I grin. "Okay, see you Sunday." We both hang up. I look over at Flame, who's already dressed again, his movements deliberate and contained. "How's your cousin?" the redhead asks, his voice casual, but his eyes holding a flicker of genuine interest. "Good," I answer, shrugging, trying to play it cool, "He's feeling fine, I think." I admit, not wanting to over-dramatize it. Flame nods slightly, his gaze still fixed on me, then turns away, resuming his packing. "What did you talk about?" he asks, his tone almost too casual. "Oh..." I say, dragging the word out, thinking on my feet, "Well, you know, just little things. He asked me if he should date someone and, uh... what they could do." I lie, the words tumbling out. Flame nods again, not looking at me, continuing to fold his clothes. "And? What did you advise him?" he asks, his voice still level. "Something you... like to do on dates?" I laugh, a short, dry, humorless sound. "I've never been on a real date," I confess, the words feeling flat and pathetic. "So, I just told him... to do whatever he wants." I say, finally getting up from my bed, needing to move, to break the suffocating stillness. "I thought you were... with Reed?" Flame asks, finally looking up, his gaze sharp. I sigh, the sound heavy with unspoken history, unspoken hurt. "Yeah," I whisper, my voice barely audible, "But... we never actually went out." Flame holds my gaze for another beat, then his expression softens. "Well," I say, my voice clipped, final, "I'm going to take a shower."