Something Like Love ~ Nate Parker smut/imagine

Something Like Love P1: I Hate You (SMUT)

Nate's deep voice rang in your ear as you listened to his voicemail. He sounded awkward and kind of vulnerable. "Hey...uh, I really need to see you. Don't ask it's just...fuck, I was going to say it was important, but it's not. I just feel it in my gut. I need to see you. I'll be over in like, a half hour. Whether you want me to or not. Sorry." Then he hung up. You wanted to scream, you couldn't believe your ears. 

You and Nate had dated for two years. You guys were one of _those_ couples, the ones who did everything together. He used to watch you cook with a fascination you that made you blush--you found it sweet that he admired you. You would watch him drum with the same awe, running your fingertips lightly over the smooth muscles of his back when he was in your arms afterwards. He had a habit of cupping your hips when he was mindlessly chatting with you, letting his eyes wander while his rough thumb ran over your hip bone. 

Snap out of it, you scolded mentally. You and Nate didn't need each other any more. He had chosen _them_, Levi, Drew, Austin. You had chosen the girls who didn't really know what love, dignity and sobriety really meant. They made Nate sick, the way they never seemed to close their legs. "Do you really want this?" He had asked you in disgust on the day you broke up. "Do you want people to see you as some mascara dripping slut who stumbles in heels?" That had hurt. (And, frankly, you now avoided mascara and heels. Scarred for life, is that what they call it?)

You and Nate hadn't talked since then. You'd told him if he wanted to go chasing city lights with that band, there'd be plenty of drippy sluts waiting their turn there, too. He'd scoffed and stalked out of the house, fists jammed into his pockets. Levi came back and quietly packed his things the next morning, avoiding eye contact. 

A knock nearly made you jump out of your skin. You thought about not answering the door, because then what would you see on the other side? A demon or an angel? It had been so long...you hadn't even allowed yourself to miss him, but it was still there, the ghost that mourned its own funeral. You thought of him when you undressed to soak in the tub or when you leaned over the bathroom counter to apply makeup. You thought of him sometimes when soft sheets brushed your legs, and always when another man touched your skin. Nate could be better, you'd thought. Nate WAS better. 

You opened the door, taking a deep breath. You forced yourself to bite your tounge and gripped the door. Nate was gorgeous, with ripped skinny jeans and a stylishly ragged looking shirt. He had a backpack strapped on his back. But it wasn't his clothes that made you remember.

It was HIM. Those beautiful blue eyes, that seemed to smile when he smiled, that seemed to boil when he was angry, and seemed to shiver with cold when you was upset or sad, maybe even stubborn. You saw so many things in his eyes. The blonde hair that you used to spend hours tangling your fingers in as his breath warmed your neck. The hands that held you, your heart, your whole world. The hands that peeled you off like a sticker and walked away. And his body. God, he still had a nice body. Nicer still, since he'd been away.

You wanted to be reckless. Forget everything and jump on him, let those strong arms catch you, let his mouth defy yours again. Let his warmth set you on fire. But you had to be cold, for now.

He was waiting.

God, you just wanted to touch his hair again. 

You cleared your throat and tried to look concerned. "What the hell are you doing here, Nate?"

"You know, I really didn't think I'd get this far. Because, like, there was always the possibility that you wouldn't answer the door."

You flushed. He cracked a grin. Same old stupid, joking, never truly serious Nate. You didn't smile with him, but moved aside to let him in anyway.