Page 15 of T is for…

“Nathan,” she breathed, gaze searching his face. “Do you… Have you always?”

Some of the heat melted from his gaze and she mourned the loss. “Have I always thought you were gorgeous? Yes.”

“You can think something is objectively attractive, and still not be attracted to it.”

Nathan’s brows rose. “You’re not a piece of art I was admiring.”

“I am absolutely a work of art.”

He grinned, eyes bright. “Yes, you are. But to answer your question, again, yes. I’ve always thought you were good-looking and been attracted to you.”

“You never said anything.”

His head cocked to the side. “I wasn’t going to risk losing my best friend, especially when I don’t know if you were interested in me.”

Don’t. Present tense.

Shame heated her cheeks, because while Nathan had said he found her attractive, she hadn’t reciprocated. He didn’t know—because she’d never told him—what she did in the second year of their friendship.

“One of the reasons I introduced myself to you that day was because I thought you were cute,” she admitted. “Not just because we had a class together.”

He looked slightly alarmed. “Wait, were you hitting on me? I don’t…I mean, I was exceptionally stupid at twenty, but I think I’d remember if you hit on me.”

“No, I didn’t. I thought you were cute, and that made me nervous, and I was pissed at myself for being nervous, so I started the conversation instead of waiting and hoping you would.”

“Ah, that sounds like my Tara.”

The word “my” hit her like a punch in the stomach, but she ignored it. For now.

“I refused to let some frat boy—” she started.

“I wasn’t in a frat.” His lips twitched in an almost smile.

“—intimidate me. You seemed smart enough.”

“Thanks?”

“So, I introduced myself, and made sure we became friends,” she finished.

“Now hold on. I was the one who took us from classmates to friends. When I printed your paper and then ran across campus to turn it in. Before that, we were just people in the same class. After that, we were trauma bonded.”

It was Tara’s turn to laugh. “Trauma bonded?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, that class was awful, and I would have failed without your help and sprinting abilities. I can’t believe the professor expected a hard copy.”

She’d been sick with the stomach flu, homesick since it was her first time being ill without family to care for her, and when she went to print her paper, her printer refused to connect.

Her roommate hadn’t been home, nor her friend next door. She’d banged on the off-campus RA’s door, desperate, but she too hadn’t been home. Near sobbing, Tara stumbled down the long hall and around the corner to Nathan’s apartment.

He’d listened wide-eyed to her panicked confession that she was going to miss the deadline for the paper. She hadn’t even gotten to the point of asking for help before he told her to run back to her room and email him the paper.

She had, and then stumbled back down the hall, headed to his room so she could pick up the printout. She’d had no idea how she’d magically get the hard copy turned in, since she didn’t have the energy to walk or bike the half mile to campus, let alone get there in the fifteen minutes left before the deadline. She’d exited her room in time to see him disappear as he slammed through the stairwell door at a run.

“I thanked you for that, right?” she said, smiling at the memory.

“Multiple times. And you carried me through that one unit in organic chemistry.” He grimaced, and she laughed.

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