Our Way

And I know that Nathan loves me even though it’s not the same kind of love.

I’m mixing it up and getting all confused.

It doesn’t mean anything.

As soon as I start dating I can stop imagining all this business between him and me. It’s all in my head. He would be horrified if he knew what I was thinking.

I turn off the light and climb into bed to lie in the darkness for a while. My mind is spinning at a million miles per hour.

Where is he now?

He’s never this late. Maybe he isn’t coming over tonight.

That’s okay—he doesn’t have to—he’s not my boyfriend or anything.

I toss and turn, and I punch my pillow, annoyed that it bothers me. Half an hour later, I hear the key turn in the door, and relief fills me.

He’s here.

Now, I’ll finally get some sleep.

I hear his keys go onto the sideboard and then the shower run. A few moments later, Nathan walks into the bedroom with a white towel around his waist.

“Hi.” I smile up at him.

“Hi.”

“You’re home late.”

He sits down beside me on the edge of the bed. “Yeah.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, and we stare at each other, despite the darkness.

The air between us feels weird again. There’s a spark… a crackle. Something’s different.

What the fuck is it?

His dark eyes hold mine and he rubs his thumb over my cheekbone as he studies me.

I feel like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

I put my hand over his against my cheek. “Nathan, what is it?”

“Nothing.” He gets up in a rush and snatches his boxer shorts. Then, he storms into the bathroom to get changed.

I lie in the darkness with questions buzzing through my brain. I can’t hold my tongue any longer. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us. We are just friends. Moments later, he comes back into the room and switches his bedside lamp on.

“Why are you so late?” I ask.

“I had something going on.” He gets into bed and picks up his book from the nightstand.

“Oh.” I look over at him as he turns the page. “Like what?”

He lies on his side toward me and flicks through the pages to get to the place where he left off.

“What did you have going on?” I repeat when he doesn’t answer.

“I was working.”

“Oh.” I roll over toward him and watch him for a moment. “I thought you must have had a date.”