Strings (1 of 2)

Chapter 38 - Friends?

"What are you doing here?" I ask with a frown as I approach the bike. I know the answer but I don't plan to make this that easy for him. He stands up straighter, leaning off the bike.

I can smell his aftershave now that I'm closer, the stubble on his cheeks that I love freshly removed. He still looks as attractive as always, just younger without the bead growing on his face. 

His sunglasses still cover his eyes so I can't read his expression. Convenient.

"Can we please talk?" He asks softly, a notably large change from the last time we spoke.

I stop a few feet away from him, but he feels much further. There is a distance emotionally that I don't know how to ignore. I used to think we were so close. I thought he got me, understood things I didn't have to say. Since the night we met.

But maybe we were always only close because we were having sex. Maybe the physical aspect made me ignore the distance that is so suffocating now.

I look around us at the cars and people starting to fill the streets, some nosy ones glancing our way. I turn to glance at his bike and frown, remembering the nightmare from last week. I won't be getting on that thing anytime soon...

"My shift is done. I'm going to walk home." I reply and his shoulders sag slightly. "You can walk me to the driveway. It's 5 minutes from here." I add and he smiles, relieved.

"Come with me and we can get dinner," he suggests and I shake my head, the bike in the corner of my eye taunting me.

"No." I reply quietly and he doesn't argue further.

I turn towards the direction to get home and start walking, not waiting for him to follow. My feet hurt after my shift and my head is spinning with thoughts of him.

I don't hear him move behind me and I sigh as I slow down. "Coming or what? I'm tired, Nathan."

He appears at my side in a second, falling into step with me with ease.

"How was work?" He asks awkwardly after a second, probably unsure how to start our much-needed conversation.

I ignore him. "What did you want to talk about?" I ask and the corners of his lips turn down slightly.

He pulls the black sunglasses off his face and tucks one side under the neckline of his t-shirt so they stay put. He takes a deep breath and looks at me with a soft, but worried expression that makes me nervous.

"Did you get my texts?"

"Today, yeah. I had my phone off all weekend." I answer honestly.

"Emily, I fucked up." He says in a rush and I gulp. "I overreacted that night. I was drunk and mad and stupid and the way I spoke to you..." he looks away, shaking his head, "that was not okay. I know that now. No, I knew that then, I regretted the words as soon as they came out. You did not deserve that. I'm sorry."

I turn to look up to his face as we continue walking. His hazel eyes glitter down at me, the sunset lightening the dark shade he normally has at night. 

I want to believe his words. He seems genuine.

"I overreacted too." I reply and he looks down at me, surprised. He was definitely not expecting me to say that. "When yelling at you, I mean. I caused it in the first place by letting it go too far with that guy. I told myself in the moment that I was being friendly because he bought me a drink. But I understand how it must have looked to you and that wasn't right for me to let go on."