Page 23 of Watch Me

It’s heaven.

For the first time all day, my mind blanks, and I get a break from thinking about Tate, about last night, about where I’m going to sleep, about where I’m going to live, about my audition. I don’t feel guilty about how good it feels to be pressed against Nick’s body. I wrap my arms around his back to hold him tighter and lose myself.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been picking myself up, sorting myself out, and looking after myself alone. When you’ve always had to fight your own battles, after a while you forget how to put down your armor. But Nick has a steadiness that makes me feel grounded and safe, a quiet strength that feels like the calm center in the middle of the storm.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against my cheek, and speaks in his deep, rumbly voice, his breath brushing against my hair.

“Tate left.”

I frown, trying to process what he’s saying.

Tate left?

But Tate lives here. I pull away from his embrace and look up into brown eyes looking back at me softly.

“What do you mean, left?”

“He packed up his things and went to his mother’s house. He didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head, thoughts stuttering.

He packed up his things?

“He moved out?” I ask aloud.

“Yeah.”

Something unreadable flickers across his eyes.

Remorse?

Doubt?

“We had a fight.”

I’m speechless. I expected to be the one fighting with Tate today, but based on the intense way Nick’s looking at me right now, it seems I won’t have to. My battle’s already been fought for me.

“I’m sorry,” I start, and Nick shakes his head, pulling me back in towards him and holding me again.

“Don’t say that.”

Shit. Tate’s gone. I should be upset that he has nothing to say to me. No apology. Nothing.

But all I can think about is how I’ll be gone soon, too. This is goodbye for Nick and me, yet our story isn’t finished.

It’s barely even started.

I let myself breathe in his warmth once more, and then, with all the strength I can muster, I peel my face off the heaven that is his chest and look up at him one more time.

“I’ll go to a hotel,” I say in an oddly thick voice.

It’s what I was planning to do anyway, except that now letting go of Nick feels like jumping off a cliff into icy water.

“No,” he says quickly, furrowing his brow. “No.”

My stupid heart leaps into my throat again. I swallow as if that will push it back down.

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head. “You can stay. He brought you here. He made his choice. You don’t have to go.”

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