Page 54 of Getting It Twisted

In sleep, his face looks soft and unguarded—jaw slack and eyebrows softly tilted. In sleep, he can’t use his body or his words to throw me off. He can’t spin me sweet lies or deflect my questions with sarcastic remarks.

He yawns big and wide, his eyelids flicker open, and our eyes meet.

There’s a tense moment as I await his reaction. You never know with Nathan. He might be embarrassed about last night—though he has no reason to be—and he might attempt to hide his embarrassment with sharp glares and sharper words.

But there’s nothing like that. His face lingers in the peacefulness of sleep, and the corner of his mouth quirks upward in a soft smile.

I slide my fingers through his hair, and our lips graze now and again in the lazy type of morning kisses I’ve shared with former girlfriends. Never did it cross my mind I’d experience this with Nathan one day. The thought has me pulling back from his embrace, because this newfound thing between us feels too fragile to even think about, let alone speak of.

“So,” he drawls. “Now that I’m not crying anymore, are you gonna fuck me the way I want?”

“Are you going to tell me what yesterday was about?”

He sighs and rubs his forehead into the pillow. “There’s nothing to tell.” I send him a look, and he rolls onto his back, frowning. “Fine. That old man with the dog . . . He’s an old neighbor, all right? Seeing him, talking to him . . . It just reminded me of what it used to be like out here. Back when I was a kid.”

“If you don’t like to be reminded of it, why stay here?”

He lifts his shoulders in a strained shrug. “Dunno. I like suffering, I suppose.”

My jaw clenches at the casual truth in those words. He likes suffering, all right. It’s a bad type of suffering—not the one when I have him writhing and begging in bed. Not like last night. He opened up to me so sweetly then, and he even cried, like he used to on a few rare occasions when we were kids, like the time he came to me with fresh blood on his face.

No matter what has transpired between us, no matter the broken promises and broken hearts, when he calls out for me, I can’t help but answer.

I need to do something. I need to get him out of here.

He doesn’t want to rent an apartment, but perhaps he could move in with me, April, and George. Yeah, that could work.We’ve been looking for a roommate anyway. But I have to be careful about it—he’ll pull his defenses up high if he sniffs out the barest hint of pity.

“You could move in with us, you know,” I say slowly. “We’ve got a spare room.”

He snorts. “With you and George?”

Right. Bad idea. The chances of George allowing him to move in are as slim as the chances of them getting along, but it’s worth a try.

“Don’t bother,” Nathan says. “I like living out here. The nature and shit. It’s a nice change of pace from the highways and concrete. At night, it’s a different story.”

“Can’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Not for shit.”

“You slept tonight.”

“Only ’cause you were here.” He shifts closer and closer until he ends up half on top of me. Chin on my chest, he gazes into my eyes, and his stare is so intense that for a moment, he looks like he wants to eat me. “Without you, my world’s all black.”

Nathan says the most outrageous things without meaning them, but this feels all too real, and I swallow against the lump forming in my throat.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” he mutters. “It’s the truth. You wanted me to open up to you, didn’t you?”

“Not if it’s just gonna be yet another manipulation tactic.”

“I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m trying to make you mine.”

Mine how?My friend, my boyfriend, my sex toy?To Nathan, there’s unlikely to be a difference, and what comes out of my mouth I neither planned for nor expected to say.

“If I’m yours, then you’re mine.”

His eyes widen, and with a sharp exhale of breath, he hisses, “Fuck.” He climbs on top of me, pinning me to the bed. “Yeah, I can be yours.”

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