Page 74 of The Fate Of Us

I squinted my eyes, my head pulling back slightly.“I don’t think you’ve ever asked how Iam, not for years, anyway.”My hands run through my hair.“But I’m fine. And you?”

He shrugs.“Oddly, calm.”

The way his eyes slid over to me told me all I needed to hear.

I’m always calm around you, don’t you remember?He said with that crystal stare.

“That’s good to hear.”

The drum of his fingers on his lap is the only sound breaking through the pauses, Flo andJacob’s conversation on the balcony too quiet for me to eavesdrop like I’d planned to—

“How’s writing?”

I whip my head to him, my thoughts halting. How on earth did he…“You rememberthat?”I ask, almost breathlessly.

“Of course I do, you’re my favourite writer,”he said with a smirk, one that whisked meback to the sun-kissed evenings by Sunfall in a heartbeat.

“Still?”

The green in his eyes glistens.“Always.”

I rock my head to him, the distant thumping from the next song on the playlist breaking itsway through the space between us. The piano chords should have frightened me, warned me away from leaning so close to him.

It was like one of those moments when you were fourteen, at a school dance, and you spythe boy you like over in the corner. You want him to ask you to dance, but there’s so much pressure, too much riding on the moment. The nerves and anticipation scurry around you and make you all hopeless and wobbly.

I remember feeling that way with Nate when we were fourteen, at our first homecoming.

Although, he was standing right next to me, wouldn’t dare to be alone for a second too long. I didn’t blame him, there were some jerks in our grade, so I clung to him for dear life the second we walked into that tacky decorated, slightly sweaty, gym.

And he held my hand like a promise, to always keep me safe, like I kept him.

He didn’t ask me to dance that night, instead, he simply held out his hand and nodded hischin to the dance floor, a smirk meant only for my eyes curling up his face. Quite cocky, for him, but I liked it.

I don’t remember which song was playing as we swayed, and I’m glad I didn’t. Whatever song it was would have been on my iPod for years, and as an adult, it’d carousel its way around my daily mix and ultimately ruin my day the moment it played.

That moment when we danced was one I added to a long list of reasons why I knew myheart would forever belong to Nate Patricks, one I knew I couldn't erase from my memory no matter how hard I tried to.

I don’t know how long we've been staring at each other, or how much time haspassed since Jacob and Florence escaped onto the balcony, but part of me was wishing they’d stay out there a minute or two longer. I wanted to soak up how easy it was to be around him right now.

We were both drunk, so I suppose none of the easiness was real. It was make-believe. Amoment we could blame on being inebriated, that we’d both forget in the morning.

Without warning, Nate sprung up from the couch, breaking our stare and standing beforeme. He said nothing, and instead let a smirk creep up his face as he held out his hand.

I expected the internal screams that told me to stay quiet, stay still, not to spook him byany sudden movements that might give away how much I wanted to hold his hand.

Unfortunately, they all shut up once I saw him nod his chin over to the centre of the room; my heart melting into what it was when I was fourteen.

I took his hand, and he pulled me up, what felt like warm nerves creeping up my spine. Istopped an inch or two away from him before his hands fell onto my waist, and he began to sway me. With so much ease, I had to wonder whether he’d planned this from the moment heknew I was coming tonight.

I found myself looking everywhere but his eyes when I asked,“This doesn’t count, doesit.”

“What doesn’t?”

I pinged my eyes between us.“This. The easiness. Thenicesilence. Dancing with you.”

His head shook.“What do you mean?”

I didn’t mean to, but I draped my hand further across his back as we shifted, the musclesthat lay beneath his shirt skimming my skin.“I mean, Nate, that we won’t remember this. Come tomorrow morning, we’ll go back to how we’ve existed around each other for the past seven years. Stony silence, odd looks, never talking about what happened.”

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