Reprise (Ruby Riot #3) Page 9
Another evening of board games with Nate? “I’ll play for an hour,” I say. Because I’ll wipe the floor with him. No way will this guy be a good Scrabble player.
Board set up, pieces in place, and ready to go. I look expectantly at Nate.
He focuses on arranging his tiles on the holder. “This time, if I win I am getting the bed.”
“Fine.” As if he will win.
He looks up. “I mean it, Riley.”
“I said, fine.” I point at the board. “Let’s go. Foreign words and swearing don’t count.”
“Yes, miss.”
I throw one of the peanuts at his head and he ducks before taking another from the packet and chewing. Nate rubs his hands together, and a slow smile crosses his face.
Halfway through the game, the reason for Nate’s knowing smirk becomes clear as his score doubles mine.
“My letters are crap!” I complain.
“Or maybe you’re just not a very good player.”
“How are you good at Scrabble?”
“Implying I’m stupid? You’re playing a person who’s studied English, Riley.” To prove a point, Nate clicks tiles across a triple word score. “Ninety-three.”
“You did? And how the hell can you get a score that high with one word?”
“Don’t you pay attention to your clients’ backgrounds? What were Will and me doing when Ruby pressed pause on the band?”
“I knew you were in London, not what you were doing. I was working with other clients.”
“Avoiding us?” He takes the score sheet from me.
“Yes. I was.”
“We went back to uni; it’s where Will met Fleur.” He points at the paper I’m keeping score on. “Ninety-three. Write it down.”
“Unfair! You had Q and Z.”
He laughs softly. “Luck and skill. Can I see the score?”
“I don’t think you need to, do you, Mr. Smug?”
“True. You gave me a run for my money though. A worthy opponent.”
“As always.”
Nate tips his head and the look he gives me prickles my neck. The last time we challenged each other was his request for a kiss, and I’ve spent the day pushing aside the fact I almost put my mouth on his.
Our ceasefire is precarious and any line crossing could spin us back into greater antagonism than before.
“As always.” Nate breaks the moment and picks up the empty velvet bag to drop tiles in. “Did you study at uni?”
“No.”
“That surprises me.”
“I went straight into PR, at the bottom of the ladder after my A levels. I needed to work.”
“Needed to?”
“Wanted to.” Crap. I take a long drink of my vodka tonic.
Nate frowns. “I never noticed before. You’re hiding something too, aren’t you? I thought you were just a snarky cow.”
“Charming, Nate. I’m a private person, that’s all. I keep things professional; my life outside my job is my business.” I fold the board and wait for him to poke further.
“Fair enough. Will you stay for another drink while you wait for the sofa?” Nate holds out his empty glass. “As I won, I get the bed.”
With a sigh, I stand and take his glass. “Do you ever have a night when you don’t drink, Nate?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’m a rock star.”
“You’re not a rock star here.”
“I’m a bored rock star, but I’m still him.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I think you’ll find I am.”
I shake my head and walk over to the bar to pour myself another vodka, and Nate a whisky. “Is George okay with you using his bar as if it’s your own?”
“I’m paying for it all.”
“But still…”
Something catches my eye, half-hidden amongst the menus stored on a shelf beneath the bar. A white cord. I grab it. “How did this get here, Nate?”
He pulls an innocent face. “What is it?”
“My laptop charger! Did you hide it?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You tell me.”
I clutch the cord as he stands and approaches. “Are there any crisps back there?”
“Yes.” I point at a half-empty box. “Nate. Did you take it?”
Nate leans over the bar and grabs a packet of crisps from the nearby box. “Okay. I took the charger. I wanted you to talk to me.”
“What about?”
“Anything you wanted.”
“Paris?”
“Apart from that.”
“Why you’re a mess?”
“And that.”
“So you’re admitting you’re a mess.”
“Takes one to know one, Riley.” Our batting of words stops and we both retreat. I look away and Nate shoves crisps into his mouth.
“There’s not much else to talk about outside of our working relationship, is there?” I point at his whiskey. “Stay here and have a drink. I’m going upstairs, now I have my charger. When George and Val are done watching TV, let me know and I’ll move onto the sofa.”
“Not staying to talk to me?”
“I don’t feel like a Nate and Riley fight, no.”
“What if I promise to be nice?” He offers me a crisp.
I waver but the peace of the bedroom beckons. “Sorry, Nate. I want some space.” And to call Josh.
Nate huffs and rests his elbows on the bar. “Sore loser, huh?”
“I am not, I just want some alone time.”
“Fair enough.” Grabbing his whisky glass, Nate returns to his position at the table under the window. The light above the table highlights his deep frown and pursed lips. “Solitaire it is, then.”
I step out of the small bathroom and straight into Nate.
“Jesus Christ!” I half-shout, relieved I’m in pyjamas and not wandering around in a towel.
Nate sweeps a gaze over my ensemble. “Do you have kittens on your pyjamas?” I pout at his obvious question. “Pink kittens and rainbows. That is so cute!”
I bristle. Josh chose these; how dare Nate tease me. “What did you want?”
“Sofa’s free.”
“Oh. Right.” I search the room for the blanket Nate used the last two nights, and gather it in my arms. Not looking at him, I walk to the open door. “Night, then.”
Nate closes the door and stands with his hand on the wood. “Don’t be stubborn. You can share the bed.”
“No, thank you.”
“Riley. The bed is big enough for both of us. I didn’t touch you last time you told me to stop, and without an invite, I won’t.”
Our eyes meet; the intensity I can never understand raw in them again. “I can’t, Nate.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m fed up with you teasing me and the passive-aggressive rude behaviour. Why would I want to get into bed with you?”
Nate sits, the mattress sinking beneath him. “Passive-aggressive behaviour? That’s hypocritical.”
“And exhausting.”
“You shared a bed with me once before.”
“Only because you passed out drunk and forgot where you were.”
He flops backwards. “Jesus, Riley. I’ll even keep my clothes on if it bothers you that much.”
Nate in a flannel shirt and baggy jogging bottoms, lying on a floral-patterned bed in a pub. With me. I laugh. “If I was you, I wouldn’t want to wear those.”
“Says the chick in cat pyjamas. We could both take them off?” I narrow my eyes. “Kidding! It’s too fucking cold, and unless you want to warm me up, no way am I stripping.”
Nate. Naked. With me. Unable to push the image aside, I try to leave. “I’ll go.”
Nate steps in front of the door. “Haven’t we bonded over Scrabble? I didn’t cheat, that counts for something.”
I sit on the bed, tired after too much drink and dealing with another hell day stuck here.
“You
won’t sleep on the sofa,” he continues.
“Why are you insistent, Nate? Do you think I’ll be unable to resist you if we climb into bed together?”
His mouth twitches. “You know it’ll happen eventually, right?”
“It will not!”
He crosses his arms. “Prove it. Get into bed with me. If you don’t, I’ll know it’s because you want to ride my dick.”
“Ohmigod! Do you seriously think —”
“I bet you’re picturing that now, aren’t you?”
“No!” Yes. “You’re disgusting, Nate.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Are you guaranteeing I won’t try to take the bed by behaving like this?” I retort.
“No.” He bites his lip and bounces onto the bed, then lies with his hands behind his head. Thank god for shapeless clothes. “Of course not.”
Like I can’t see through his game… “Really? Well tough.” I lie next to him, far enough away not to touch. The thought of heading into the cold lounge to sleep, and Nate winning, isn’t appealing. “Do not touch me.”
“I won’t, if you can keep your hands off me.”
In a move I could regret, spurred on by exhaustion, I pull back the sheets. I take one of the pillows and place it in the centre of the bed. Aware of Nate’s scrutiny, I climb in and lie at the very edge of the bed, facing the window.
The bed moves as Nate climbs beneath the bedclothes too. The light remains on. My heart thumps and my tiredness switches to high alert as I anticipate what happens next. Nate giggles and I relax. Giggling Nate isn’t a seductive Nate.
I’m drifting off when Nate speaks. “Riley.”
“Yes?”
“I’m drunk.”
“You already told me.”
“Wish you were drunk too.”
“I’m glad I’m not.”
“Why?”
“After last time.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“What? I’m tired.”
“Did you ever tell anybody?” His voice is low. Confused, I turn to look at him. “I don’t think you did, but I’m not sure.”
“About the non-sex? Nobody would’ve believed me anyway.”
“No. The other thing.”
I am monumentally pleased that Nate is covered in his unattractive flannel shirt, but this doesn’t detract from the curve of his too perfect cheekbones and pursed, kissable lips. He hasn’t shaved for a couple of days either and that adds to his attraction.
“What I told you the night we last shared a bed.” Nate turns his head, the space between us constricting. “What did I say? I can’t remember half of it.”
“You were in a mess over what happened to Tegan and that sleaze who drugged her, blaming yourself. Jax had threatened to punch you and you were keeping out of his way. You didn’t make much sense, talking about a girl. I couldn’t figure out if it was someone on the tour or the past or what.”
“Weird, I went to see you, huh?”
“Nate, how much do you remember?”
“Not much. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“You thought my room was yours and spent five minutes trying to break into my hotel room because your key card didn’t fit. When I opened the door, you basically stumbled in and lay on the bed.”
Nate snorts. “Really? When I woke up I thought you’d invited me.”
“How likely was that to be true?”
“Yeah, that’s what confused the hell out of me for a couple of days.”
I smile too. “And me.”
He turns onto his side to face me. “But what I told you, have you ever told anybody else?”
“No, because I can’t remember.”
Nate’s eyes widen and he props himself up on one elbow. “You can’t remember?”
“I can’t remember anything you’d worry about me telling other people. Unless it’s that you were in love once, and it ended and broke you. That’s not exactly blackmail material.”
“I didn’t say why?”
“Maybe. I fell asleep when you wouldn’t shut up.”
Nate laughs. Really laughs and lies on his back again. “Man, that’s hilarious. I thought you knew, that you decided you had some kind of hold over me, and that’s why you treated me the way you did.”
Nate drops into silence, and I mull over the events in the hotel room the night we were natural and open. I listened to a distraught Nate who made no sense, held him, stupid enough to kiss him. Nate stopped at a kiss even though I wouldn’t have. I wasn’t sober and let’s face it, I hadn’t had sex with anyone for over a year. A guy I’d fought my attraction to since we arrived on tour together was in my bed, and for a split second, I didn’t care. Nate’s confusion when I kissed him switched to slow, gentle kisses I never expected. The Nate Campbell I’d heard about would’ve had my clothes off in seconds.
“Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for us,” he says quietly and looks back at the ceiling.
“Or maybe we avoided a lot more problems by walking away from each other.”
“Maybe.”
How could the man in the room with me be the man who behaved the way he did? The disgusting, disrespectful guy who threw me to one side and looked elsewhere when I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.
Which one is here with me now?
I sit. “Actually, I think I should sleep on the sofa.”
“What did I do?”
“Confused me.”
“We don’t have to talk anymore. Look, I’ll sleep over here and won’t touch you.” He rolls onto his side away from me.
I hug my knees to my chest, staring at the moonlight filtering through the heavy curtains. What’s happening here? I continue to replay the night in the hotel room in my mind; but the only secret he left me with is that underneath everything, he’s sensitive enough to have loved once before. Now the man pretends he doesn’t have a heart. Is that the secret?
Was I touching that heart and he needed to build more layers to convince himself he didn’t give a shit?
Nate’s breathing deepens and, sure he’s asleep, I shuffle down in the bed, closing my eyes. He’d better not snore as loudly as the last time we slept together.
Who is Nate Campbell? I don’t think anybody knows. I don’t think he knows either. But then who is Riley Sawyer? My heart was betrayed too and is now guarded against the world. Like Nate, I also live with a constructed persona, and refuse to reveal all of myself to people I work with. The guilt over hiding Josh from my life grows. Why am I scared about the judgment of others?
The harder I clash with Nate, the stronger the friction grinds at the walls between us. This has to stop before Nate breaks through and into my heart.
14
RILEY
I wake with my face pressed against Nate’s flannel-covered chest and an arm slung across him. Nate’s arm is curled around my waist, and the pillow I put between us last night is above my head. His warmth encompasses me, steady heartbeat against my cheek.
What the actual fuck?
How drunk was I?
And why does this have to feel natural and good?
I tense and listen to Nate’s breathing. Is he still asleep? What the hell did I do?
No, I didn’t have sex with Nate. Not unless we both put our clothes back on and it was so quick, I can’t feel the after-effects. I’ve heard about — and almost experienced — Nate and it wouldn’t be quick, or forgettable.
I slowly withdraw my arm from around Nate, but he seizes my hand. “Morning.”
Shit.
I move my face and bury it into the pillow so he doesn’t get the pleasure of witnessing my embarrassment.
“I was asleep. Didn’t realise,” I mumble and wait for the smartarse comment.
“That’s okay. I can’t help my natural magnetism.”
I pull my hand away from his and roll onto my back. “That must be it.” Please make him shut up.
“Kinda nice though.”
“What?”
I twist my head. “What point?”
“You want me.”
Refusing to let him get a rise out of me, I throw back the covers and march into the bathroom, glad he gave me an excuse to walk away.
“I told you, you only need to ask. I’m happy to oblige!” he calls after me.
Taking shaky breaths, I grip the sink and stare at my pale face and tangled hair in the mirror. Is he right? No. I don’t like him. I really don’t like him. I repeat the phrase over and over, muttering under my breath, as if that would make a difference. The girl in the mirror knows I’m lying.
How long can I stay in this place and stay sane around Nate?
I focus on brushing my hair and teeth, to give Nate enough time to leave the room. Then I can dress and pretend this situation didn’t happen. Tonight I’m on the sofa. If I walk out and he’s still there, ready with a smug look or comment, I’m going to slap him.
But why blame Nate?
Composed again, I open the door. Nate sits on the bed watching. He’s pale too, face lined by tiredness.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn. “Could you let me dress please?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Haha.”
“Your phone rang.”
I snatch the phone from the bedside table. Marcia. Some would have Mum as the contact name, but she’s a brick in my secret wall. Nine a.m. Crap. I’ve missed talking to Josh.
“You okay?” asks Nate.
“I will be, once I’ve dressed and returned this call.” Nate lies back on the bed and stretches out. “What are you doing?”
“Going back to sleep?”
“What? No.”
“I didn’t sleep very well, Riley, and I drank too much. It’s not as if I need to be anywhere.”
Do I tell him to get up and leave? I’m in the weaker position here; I already had my hands on him once today and I can’t have him concluding that’s why I want him out of the room. Nate’s sure to grab any excuse to move into innuendo and teasing, and I’ve given him a lot of ammunition.
“We don’t share a bed again, and we do not talk about this,” I say in a low voice.
“Sure thing, Smiley.” He grins at the ceiling.
I grab my clothes from the chair I draped them over last night and walk back into the bathroom to change.
I live in the twenty-first century so why the hell can’t this situation be resolved? If I have to stay in this pub another day I might just trek to the next village and plead with somebody to take me into town.