My patience evaporates in that moment. I walk to my closet, pull on a jacket, and I head for the door.
It’s time that Cynthia and I had a little talk. She needs to know exactly where I stand. And she never needs to send me text messages like the one she sent today.
Chapter Fifteen
Cynthia
My heart leaps all the way into my throat when I hear the doorbell ring. I know it’s Nate. Who else could it be?
I shouldn’t have ignored his request to talk, but I didn’t know what to say. I figured I had at least 24 hours to mull it over.
But it looks like my time is up.
I jump up and head toward the door. I could lock the door. I could even call the police.
But I don’t even consider those options.
Because deep down, I want to see him. I want to look into his face and hear what he has to say. He’s going to be honest with me, and I’ll have to be honest with him. It’s terrifying, but inevitable.
I pull open my door and walk down the steps to the main door to the building. He has a key. He could just use it. I suppose he’s at least trying to give me a choice.
I open the door and lose my breath at once. He’s so tall and strong, and he fills the entire frame.
It’s as if he’s grown even more handsome since the other night, and as I run my eyes up and down his body, I flush as I remember how we touched. I know that body. I know what his bare skin feels like. I know what it feels like to be pressed against his firm chest.
How could I possibly have texted him that it was just a “fun night”?
“Cynthia,” Nate says. “We need to talk.”
I look up and meet his smoldering gaze, and right away I have to look down again. It’s too intense for me.
“I know,” I say.
I turn and lead him up the stairs, all the while acutely aware of his eyes on my back.
After the gym, I showered and changed into jeans and a sweater. My feet are bare though, and somehow that makes me feel undressed and exposed.
When he enters my apartment, I turn and stand in the middle of the room. He shuts the door and stares at me for long seconds.
I pride myself on being able to maintain my composure. I think I’m relatively well-spoken.
With Nate standing in front of me, an expression somewhere between anger and hunger on his face, I’m at a loss for words.
“Um, what was it you wanted to say?” I stammer out.
I bite my lip and cross my arms. I sound like a blubbering idiot. Even worse, I sound young. Nate must be wondering what the hell he was thinking, having sex with a child like me.
A smile spreads across Nate’s face, and it’s chilling. I know whatever he’s about to say is going to be intense. I can’t tell if he’s furious or happy, and I don’t know why he would be either thing.
I’ve never felt such tumultuous feelings, and it makes me want to bury my head under about five blankets and hide for days and days. Nate won’t let me hide though. He is willing to give me space, but I can’t hide from him indefinitely. That much is clear.
“I didn’t like your text earlier,” he says. “And I don’t buy it.”
My stomach clenches. I worked so hard on that text, and yet he still sees right through it. “What part didn’t you buy?”
“I have feelings for you,” Nate says. “It wasn’t just a one-night hook-up for me, and I don’t think it was for you either.”
He takes a step closer to me, and suddenly I feel like an animal being stalked by a masterful predator. It’s not a bad feeling though. If anything, it’s exciting.
I’ve tried to evade capture, but now Nate has caught up to me. He wants me. And I want to be caught. My cheeks burn red as I realize I want to be devoured by him.
Nate takes another step, and suddenly I’m surrounded by him. His crisp scent invades my nostrils, and he grips my shoulders in his steady hands.
“Tell me how you really feel.” His voice is gentle and so kind, I want to tear up. “It’s alright, Cynthia, I’m here for you.”
I open my mouth and stare straight at his chest. “I feel confused.”
“That’s ok, sweetheart,” Nate says. The affectionate term makes me blink. “I want to help you process that. What’s confusing?”
A lump rises in my throat. It’s not from tears of sadness though, but tears of relief. I’ve been avoiding Nate and hiding this event from my friends and my mother, when in fact, I need to talk about it. I need to work through my emotions.
“I never imagined it would be that way,” I say. “It was unexpected.”
I can’t hold the tears back anymore, and they start to run down my face. Nate makes a comforting sound and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. I grip his shirt in my fists and let out a few sobs.
“I’m not crying because I’m upset,” I mumble. “It’s just been so intense.”
“Shh, I know, it’s ok,” Nate whispers in my ear. “It’s ok to feel these things.”
I bury my face deeper in his chest and let the tears flow out. As they do, there’s a loosening in my chest. My shoulders relax and I feel at peace for the first time in days.
“I should have stayed with you afterwards and let you process your thoughts,” Nate says. “I’m sorry I left.”
“It’s ok,” I say. “You were respecting my wishes.”
Nate leans back and examines my face. He reaches up and wipes a few tears away. His fingers are impossibly
