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Part Nineteen

**Part Nineteen was previously posted. This new post has the same beginning, but I've added to the end. 

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Pulling into the driveway, I dreaded entering my home to face Nate. I sighed, cutting the engine and climbing out from the low car. Paisley had parked out on the street and was already walking up the drive when I turned to her.

"Damnnnn," she drawled out, "this is a nice ass neighborhood." I nodded, unsure of what to say. Embarrassment creeped in. I didn't buy this house. It's not something to be proud of; it's not something I should show off.

I tried to shake off the worries.

"I love the porch," Paisley commented.

"Thanks," I said with little emotion in my voice, the guilt gnawing at me. I felt spoiled; it was too much. Unlocking the door, I pushed it open and gestured for Paisley to enter. "This is it."

"Take me on a tour?" Paisley asked.

"Sure."

I pointed to the door directed to our left in the foyer. "That's Nate's office," I said, not bothering to show it to her. I had never actually seen the inside of it, and it felt oddly private to him. I didn't want to invade his space. I ushered her through to the kitchen and family room, pointing out our little dining room on the one side and the laundry room on the other.

The sun was beginning to set, slanting in through the big windows from our morning room. It shines brightly in my eyes and I squinted before raising a hand to shelter my vision and turning my head. I gestured down the hall, "That's the bathroom on the right. And all the way down the hall is the master bedroom."

"Can I see it?" Paisley asked, hopefully.

I shook my head no. "That's Nate's room."

Paisley pouted out her bottom lip. "C'mon, I wanna see this amazing shower in the master bath you went on and on about," she pleaded. Then, as if realizing something, she quirked an eyebrow. "You shower in Nate's bathroom."

I blushed. "Only when he's not home." Realizing Paisley wasn't going to give up until she saw the inside of that room, I conceded and knocked on his door gently.

There was no response. He must've been in his office. I pushed the door open and let Paisley into his room. I watched as she took in the California king bed, expensive dark wood dressers, and giant flatscreen on the wall. Nate's bed was unmade, but the room was surprisingly tidy.

Paisley pushed open the two doors opposite of each other, realizing they were walk in closets. The one, the bigger one, was empty. The smaller one was filled with all of Nate's clothes. I adverted my eyes, feeling shy and like I was overstepping my bounds. The closet is where one hides all their demons. What demons has he hiding in there?

"This is the bathroom. Come see the shower," I said, redirecting Paisley from the closet to safer territories. Closing the door behind her, my best friend sashayed into the shower, giddy as a child in a candy shop. She dramatically gasped and ran her hands over all the textures of the bathroom: the cold granite countertop, the wooden cabinets, the smooth glass of the shower wall.

"This is awesome, Ev."

"Yeah," I agreed.

When Paisley was finished exploring the bathroom, I showed her my bedroom and the guest rooms upstairs.

We laid in my bed, discussing our first competition next weekend. Paisley's phone bleeped. She sat upright and responded rapidly. Who had she been texting all day?