"Okay, here's what we've got," she said. "He obviously still wants you. He is obviously still ass over teakettle in love with you." My chin tilted up and down, out of my control. "Was he good to you?"
My eyes met hers sadly. "When he realized how intense my shyness was, he actually wrote a paper for science class on the brain's response to anxiety, and how to mitigate the effects of fear and stress."
Carrie nearly choked. "Holy shit – that is so adorable and nerdy and romantic."
"I still use some of the tips and tricks," I laughed.
"Okay, so he treats you well. He listens to you. I assume that things ran smoothly in the bedroom?"
I blushed fiercely, as she laughed her head off. "We were both only eighteen. There was… A little kissing. That was it."
I always tried not to think back to the time when Nate and I were together, yet it was the easiest memory to conjure because it was the most vivid. There was no way I could explain to her that the fire between us almost frightened me. That the times he kissed me were the only times I'd ever felt completely free. In control of my body, my mind.
I was barely eighteen, so naïve and nervous. Our first few tentative kisses were so overwhelming that I wasn't quite sure I would survive them.
The one time we actually curled up on his couch and made out was the single most intense experience of my life. It was the one time that my nervousness had disappeared. My body had taken over completely. Even though we didn't go farther than a little fondling over our clothes, I had been quivering from lust.
I didn't even know that I possessed that emotion before him, and I honestly didn't think that I ever would again without him. Those few months we were together were the only time I ever thought that I’d be in a relationship.
Guys seemed to avoid me because I was awkward around them. There was no way I could imagine being with a man if I couldn't guarantee he would stop if I asked him to, or understood if I needed to run to the other room to take a breath, or need to lie on my back on the floor if I got too overloaded.
There was no way to explain that to anyone else without them thinking I was a complete freak. But Nate had always taken it in stride, knowing that it was just my way. He never once made me feel bad about being anxious.
Staring into my wine glass, I swirled it just enough to create little waves. “We went for walks on the beach,” I said softly, barely realizing that I was speaking. “He’d find me a pretty stone every time. He went on about how stones held energy because they were so unfathomably old. He wanted our love to be that timeless.”
"So, what was the problem then?" Carrie asked gently.
"I held him back."
"What do you mean?"
My heavy sigh made the napkin on the table flutter. "He was super popular, the life of every party. Everyone knew him. He was already sort of famous before he got famous. There's no way that a guy like that should be tied to a wallflower."
Carrie shot me a disgusted glance. "These days we don't say wallflower. How about timid chick?"
"Shy broad."
"Type-A anxiety laden female," Carrie giggled.
"Whatever. I'm not good for him. Especially now. He's going to have to do interviews, and tour, and run all over the place. You saw the show’s hostess making ever
y excuse to touch him. He probably has women falling all over him."
Carrie’s hand covered mine, squeezing gently. "Trisha, he wasn't singing to them."
My breath seized in my chest for a second, as I fought back tears. "It's way too late," I finally muttered. "Every problem we'd ever had would be amplified by now. There's no way it could possibly work."
"Love always finds a way," Carrie said, raising an eyebrow, then raising her glass. "Always."
Chapter Six ~ Nate
* The Email *
I hated it when my life was in flux. One of the many amazing things that Trisha taught me was that being on a schedule and knowing what was going on actually made me more creative. I’d become accustomed to having an agenda, and a sense of control.
Now I was in limbo while people all over L.A. and Hollywood fought over where I should be dragged for interviews first. The thought of it was exhausting.
A knock at my hotel room door made me jump. I don’t know why I was so twitchy.