Page 55 of Yours, Truly

Nate grabbed my arm, jolting me in place, he stood up off his stool and moved closer to me. I looked up at him, doe-eyed, pasting an innocent smile on my lips, to wind him up of course, before taking a sip of my drink through the straw.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

“I’m here with friends,” I nodded over to the group of girls on the dancefloor and he relaxed. “I hope Olive is takinggoodcare of you.” I smiled sweetly, looking over his shoulder to her as I pulled away from his grip.

“Gi! It’s not like that.”

“Mhm,” I hummed, not paying attention anymore. “Do what you want, Nate.” I shrugged him off and joined the girls back on the dance floor. Today I was going to get shitfaced, dance until my feet hurt and I was going to stumble home. Shame it would be alone, as I was technically still in a relationship.Were we still in a relationship anymore?Nate watched me carefully.

An attractive stranger came over to dance with me, he looked like he took care of himself, his muscles bulging from his shirt. The girls welcomed him over and Jennifer tried to dance with him but he seemed to be interested in me. I told him straight, I had a boyfriend and that I wasn’t interested. I tried to encourage him to dance with Jennifer, or there were plenty of other girls here in the club, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Nateeyed this stranger, as I kept telling him no and shifting away from him.

“She said no!” a deep husky voice warned him. Nate had put himself between me and the guy.

“Who the fuck are you?” the muscular stranger shouted at Nate.

“I’m her boyfriend, arsehole.” Nate’s hands balled into fists. I stepped in between them, the testosterone that was radiating off them intoxicated me.

“Nate it’s fine, I can handle myself,” I told him, his body was like stone as he stared down the stranger. It was weird to see Nate become protective over me when his actions had been the opposite this week.

“See, the beautiful lady can handle herself, so why don’t you go back to your seat?” the man provoked, chuckling at Nate.

“Hey, don’t be a dick!” I spat at the stranger. “Nate, I’ve got this,” I stepped away ready to walk away and grab my jacket.

“She’s got a great mouth on her mate. Shame she will have it around my cock tonight, and not yours,” the egotistical stranger taunted.

And in seconds Nate had punched this guy and broken his nose. The guy fought back and it took three security guards to tear them off each other. They were both ready to go back for round two. One of the bouncers was talking to Nate trying to calm him down.

My friends looked over at the scene the men had caused, my eyes watered, furious that tonight was ruined. Both men were bloody and bruised. I tried to catch my breath, the adrenalinepumping through my body. I apologised to the girls and grabbed my stuff to make my way home.

Nate followed me home, calling after me. I just cried and wrapped my arms around myself, to protect my heart from the hurt I was feeling. He’d only acted like a boyfriend at that moment because he saw someone hit on me and he didn’t like it.

Where had he been this whole week when I needed him? When we needed each other?

I let myself in my apartment and subconsciously left the door in case Nate decided to follow, to see if he still wanted to be my boyfriend. He wandered in, found a new bottle of whiskey in the cupboard and started to pour himself more alcohol. He winced at his bloody lip, as the brown liquid hit it, before he swallowed the neat whiskey in one shot. I shook my head at him.

“What thefuckis wrong with you?” I growled through gritted teeth, crying.

“He doesn’t know the word NO!”

“It wasn’t your problem, Nate.” Nate chuckled back at me.

“Are you fucking kidding me? After what you have been through? A guy like that, he wouldn’t have stopped, he would have done the same thing Cato did.” The protective Nate came out to play.

“No, Nate. You don’t get to decide when to play the protective boyfriend card.”

“Well, sweetheart, Iamyour boyfriend,” he stated, pouringmore whiskey and taking another sip.

“Really? Where the fuck have you been this week?” I yelled towards him. “Would a boyfriend blame his girlfriend for his mother’s death?” It poured out of me, all the anger and emotion I had been feeling the past week.

“Would a boyfriend be getting shitfaced every day? Sleeping somewhere else every night with God knows who, while his girlfriend is checking in on his sister, out of her mind with worry about him and dealing with the grief herself? Carol was like a second Mum to me. I lost her too, Nate.”

I cried, the tears fell and I couldn’t stop them. Nate was speechless; he didn't say a word. He gripped the counter with his hands and dropped his head between his outstretched arms, not looking my way.

“This week, I haven’t had a boyfriend,” I stated.

“Gi, I’m so sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath and looking into my eyes, a single tear fell from his and he moved himself towards me. Standing in front of me he reached out, “I haven’t been dealing with this well. Yes, I’ve been drinking, but that’s all. I promise.”

“I need you to leave, please,” I whispered, stepping out of his touch, as I folded my arms across my chest, to put some space between us. I didn’t have it in me for anything else. I didn’t want to talk or get sucked into his drama. I was carrying the weight of both of us on my shoulders and it was weighing me down, I couldn’t carry anymore.

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