“Your phone is ringing.”
Nate noticed the change in Dianne’s expression as they were sharing a plate of hot toasts outside the hut. From afar, they could see some people who started to crowd the beach in groups—running around, laughing like crazy, or plain lying under the basking sky.
He longed to take her there.
“It is? Forget about it,” Dianne quickly pulled her phone closer to her, before Nate could see the name written on the screen. She took another bite of toast and said, “You’re a really good cook, Nate.”
“I… I’m glad you like it,” Nate smiled and let her have the last piece of toast. He couldn’t help but get bothered by the continuous vibrating from Dianne’s phone. “Who is it actually?”
“No one,” Dianne bit her lip, looking away from Nate’s curious eyes.
“Are you running away from something?”
He didn’t plan to ask her that.
But it got her attention. She put her plate on the sandy ground underneath and folded her arms on her knees.
“Did I make that obvious in my poem book?”
“N-no, actually.” Great, she was starting to act like what girlfriends usually do when they were pissed off about something in the past. Saying it again and again without sounding mad, but killing him with guilt at the same time.
Wait—girlfriend?
Get your head off the clouds, Nate.
Get real.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to offend you. Sorry if I looked through something too—private. It’s just… when I read your work, it… it touches me,” Nate pulled some grass between his feet nervously. He then added, “I was never able to write like that. You’re a really good writer, Dianne.”
A cold morning breeze blew across them, as if it yearned to cast away the silence blanketing the two. Dianne then turned to Nate and murmured, “Writing is actually the reason I left Namiri Island. I wanted to be a famous writer.”
Nate gaped at her.
He didn't expect such a big dream running through Dianne's almost emotionless figure.
“I promised him I would return,” Dianne started talking in between her sobs. “He must hate me so much for leaving him all these years…”
Nate’s body froze as she cried—he wasn’t sure if he could watch a girl cry in front of him again.
Not after Ella did.
But this was different, Nate. She needed comfort.
She needed you.
YOU ARE READING
Tearing Paper
RomanceThere's this girl. She spends every day tearing paper, as if nothing she writes ever makes sense. There's this guy. He spends every day watching her, although he knows he isn't ready to love again. When he finally dares himself to make a move, they...
