Page 20 of One Wrong Move

“That’s all right. Give me directions instead,” Nate says. He sounds nonplussed by all the activity going on outside the windows. The road follows along the Thames, passing bridge after bridge, curving along with the river.

I do as he’s asked, guiding his route, and glance at him out of the corner of my eye. I hadn’t planned on him driving me home. It’s definitely appreciated, considering the late hour and the long Tube ride, but I’m not prepared for him to see where I live.

I don’t even like where I live.

It was the best I could find on such short notice and within my budget, without completely exhausting all of my savings. It sucks. That’s the nicest thing I can say about it. When I protested about the deposit being twice as high as noted in our agreement, the landlady told me to accept it or move on. I should have left. I know that. But I had just flown overnight. I was tired from lugging my giant suitcase, and my eyes stung from so much crying, so I accepted the terms.

The buildings start to change the further out we get. The Shard and the business area around it are long gone and are replaced with half-maintained brick structures. Fewer vehicles are on the road, and those that are, are certainly not sports cars.

I glance at him again. He’s quiet, one hand on the wheel and the other resting lightly on the center console between us. But I can almost feel his mind turning.

“It’s good for now,” I tell him, almost preemptively. “But I might move later, if I find something else I like better. And that I can afford.”

He makes a humming sound. Not quite a yes or a no.

We approach a small roundabout with a liquor store beside it. A group of guys is hanging outside it. One of them shoves the other, and the fellow shoves back. Their loud voices reach us despite the closed car windows.

Nate’s frown deepens into a scowl.

“Take the first left,” I say. “There’s a park down the street, actually. It’s pretty in the daylight.”

“Mm-hmm,” he responds.

“Third house on the right here… yes, this is it.” He pulls the car to a stop at the curb, and I start unbuckling my seatbelt. “Thanks for tonight. I had a terrific time.”

But he’s leaning over, looking past me and up at the house to our left. The scent of his cologne is dark and spicy, with a hint of smoke. “This is where you live?”

His words drip with disapproval.

“Yes, but it’s only temporary.” I grip my bag tight and put a hand on the door handle. “Thanks again. Get home safe, okay?”

“I’m not worried about me,” he says. Then, he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car.

I scramble to follow him. “Nate?”

“I’m coming in,” he says. His face is set in drawn lines, that playful smile is missing from his face this time. He locks the car and throws a glance down the street, to the roundabout and the youngsters we’d seen. “Let’s hope the car is still here in ten minutes.”

“Nate,” I say. Now I’m the one following him to my own front door. “What are you doing?”

“This place looks like it’s one bad storm away from collapsing. This intercom… it’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but they’re gonna fix it.”

He pushes on the front door. It gives way easily under his touch, and we both stare as it slowly opens. The silence grows tense. “The front door doesn’t even lock,” he says darkly. “Come on. Show me the rest.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I think it most definitely is.” He shuts the door behind us but mutters something about it being useless.

I head to the stairs, and he follows. His presence feels heavy and judgmental, and I hate that he is seeing this.

Hate the idea of him telling Dean, who, in turn, might tell our mutual friends… I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket and try to hide how my breathing grows laborious with every step.

“Look,” I say, stopping outside the scratched-up blue door that’s mine. “I haven’t exactly cleaned. I didn’t know I’d be having an impromptu house inspection after a lovely night at the gallery.”

Nate is staring at the scratches on the door with a dark expression. “What made those?”

“They were here when I moved in.”

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