Page 42 of The Fate Of Us

Asher still looks like sunshine as I flick my eyes back over to him, that perfectlywhite smile not budging or clocking the sarcasm that coated Nate’s compliment. “Why thank you, Nate.” he beams, before turning his focus to me. “And that’s not to say I didn’t like your performance.” His smile becomes a smirk. “You were a close second, Miss Moore.”

In a move that would have made sixteen-year-old Addy want to punch him, Asher runs a hand through his hair, the strands of blonde that lay over his forehead falling perfectly back into place, before his eyes subtly drop to my lips, making them part, as though he made them do it with his mind, before holding my gaze again.

I didn’t like the way my heart liked that. Not one bit.

“Asher, there are some people I’d like you to meet!” Sebastian’s voice filters into thetension between us before Asher tips his head of sandy waves at me before turning on his heels to find Seb.

I have to catch my breath, stupidly trying to pin down the smile that, for whateverreason, won’t leave my face.I used to despise this man. I willingly spent a portion of my teen years trulyplotting the downfall of his career, with the boy sulking behind me, too. So why was I now urging my legs to stop following after him like a little puppy?

I absentmindedly turned on the balls of my feet, immediately feeling the burn of Nate’sstare, before pinning my eyes to him.

“What?” I question, hating the way he looks like he wants to murdermenow.

A scoff pushes through his tight-lined smile as he slides to the edge of the booth.“You know he doesn’t remember me?”

“What do you mean? He just said he loved your performance in—”

“He knows Nate Patricks, Addy.”

“Well, that’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah but—”

“Well, then what’s the issue?”

His head drops, before springing back up in a heartbeat. “He sees the actor, the guywho’s won a fuck-tonne of awards and been on every fucking chat show there is. But what he doesn’t see is the boy he made fun of when we were sixteen, Addy. He has no idea that I was the one you introduced him to, the one who he asked to leave so he could spend time with just you that night.”

He stretches his legs to stand himself up, towering over me in a way that makes myknees almost cave in on command, his olive skin glowing under the stage lighting. “And what hurts more is the fact that you’re standing there grinning like you don’t remember that we both admitted what an asshole he was the second he left.”

“Nate, we were teenagers; we didn’t know any better. We didn’t really mean anythingwe said—”

“I suppose that makes sense then.” He says, deadpanning his face.

Our conversations were like a temperamental faucet, running hot, then cold, burningyou alive, then turning you into ice. There was never any warning when the words would flow with ease, then become pointed, deadly, and always with a layer of venom dripping off every syllable that left either of our mouths.

I shake my head at him, the curl that I hid behind my ear falling in front of my face. Ipractically turn to stone the second I see Nate’s hand fly up and put it back in its place. My cheeks shiver from his touch, and my eyes shoot to his, green gems which are gazing at that piece of hair like it’s a gold bar.

You mustn’t find his presence that unbearable if you let him touch you like that.

“You said you loved me when you were seventeen.” His stare fell to my lips. “Isuppose the fact you never did would make sense if you never meant anything you said back then.”

He steps away from me, an ache invading my neck from how he towered over me,before his hand falls to my face, and his eyes trail down and back up my body.

Like he has no idea who I am.

I try to catch the breaths I didn’t realise he’d stolen as he strides off in the direction ofthe wall of dressing room doors, but out of nowhere, he stops, his head angling over his shoulder and his attention crashing down on me like a landslide.

“Just so you know, Add's: I’ve meant every word I’ve ever spoken to you.”

And with that, he leaves me.

Without his judgement, I let my eyes trace every inch of him as he sulks off into thedepths of the set, my hands wishing they had the script I’d abandoned before still in my grips—anything that could distract me from the way I want to run after the other boy who once had his name carved on my heart.

For the rest of the day, I tried to avoid figuring out whether I meant Asher or Nate.

Chapter fifteen

Nate

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