Love, Emma

Chapter Eleven:

Although our movie-marathon never happened, I do think Nathan and I's friendship reached a new mile stone. As the weeks went on from that point, he didn't miraculously start opening up to me or anything. We still followed our usual routine, we ate lunch together, I asked a few questions, he answered and then I filled the silence with my non-stop, never ending chatter. It never ceased to amaze me how long I could talk for, and I think Nathan was really starting to get tired of listening to me all the time.

Slightly concerned that I was becoming an annoying pest, I brought it up one day at the café. business was slow, and we had just finished a batch of cannoli's.

Leaning back on the counter, my teeth biting a hole through my lip I was so nervous, I had anxiously looked up at the blue eyed boy, swallowing hard before mustering my courage and spitting out the question.

"Do I annoy you? Since I talk so much."

His expression was unreadable, eyes clouded over with well protected emotions that I couldn't determine. Walking around the wooden work table to me, Nathan froze about two feet away, shuffling his feet.

It must have gone on for hours, the shuffling, until finally I figured he wasn't going to straight up tell me that yes, he wanted me to just shut-up. Nathan Walker was too nice for that.

"I am aren't I? Sorry, I really didn't realize it until now, don't worry I'll stop-"

"NO!" He shouted, his head whipping up so fast I'm surprised he didn't get whiplash. His eyes were thrown wide, the mask pulled away revealing how he felt. I could just barely make out a flash of fear before he pulled up his guard again, blocking me out with his clouded, deep, dark blue eyes.

"D-don't th-think that." He murmured, stepping closer to me and stepping back, running his hand through his unruly hair, the continuing sounds of his shuffling feet filling the room.

What happened next was so unbelievable I sometimes think I imagined it, that my brain conjured up the memory to make me feel good, to make me feel like we were getting somewhere, that something changed between us.

In a matter of seconds, Nathan had me pulled flush against his body, arms wound tightly around my shoulders, clutching me to him so tightly that my face was smashed into his apron.

"I-I don't k-kn-know what to say-y, b-be-because I c-can't talk a-around you, an-and your voice s-sounds nice, s-so I l-l-like l-listening to you t-talk. But it's h-hard, be-because I never k-know what to say-y...b-but don't st-stop talking to m-me please."

While he spoke, Nathan had unconsciously leaned forward over me, his chin resting on my head while his hand played with the wisps of hair on the back of my neck, too short to fit in my messy bun.

Nestling my face closer into his chest, my eyes closed tightly, listening intently to his racing heart, vibrating through his chest to my ear. He was so warm, the heat practically radiating off of him into my small figure, seeping through our layers of clothes, and warming me to the bone.

His thinly muscled arms were wrapped tight around me, taught like wires keeping me caged against him, not that I was complaining at all- if anything there is was nowhere else I'd rather be than in Nathan's arms, but as his heart beat sky-rocketed and his nerves grew more obvious, it became apparent he was in need of an answer to his confession.

"I like talking to you too." I whispered, my voice a bit muffled from the fabric of his apron, but the words seemed to be heard clear as day by Nathan who visibly relaxed, the tendons in his arms and shoulders going slack, muscles loosening from their previous strain, heart slowing to a normal beat per minute measurement.