Page 84 of The Story of Us
And she wanted to publish it if Garrett’s text messages could be believed.
It was one thing to write a fictionalised version of his and Eloise’s story for himself. A way of letting him live out his fantasy. But it wasn’t for anyone else’s eyes. Shame weighed on him heavily like a boulder on his chest. Not about what he’d written because it was good, but it wasn’t his to share. He’d unwittingly betrayed Eloise’s confidence. Given away things they’d shared and talked about in confidence. And even though he wasn’t going to publish it, he hated himself for being so reckless. No one was ever supposed to see it.
He mumbled a hello and excused himself, pretending he needed the bathroom.
Really, he just needed a minute.
He was hiding in one of the stalls—not a proud moment in his life—when the door to the men’s room opened and closed.
“Nah, mate, it’s not like that,” Ryan said. When no one answered, Nate assumed he was on the phone.
“Eloise’s too nice. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, she’s hung up on Nate fucking James. God knows why. For a supposed footy player, he’s about as masculine as a pink G-banger. Part of the reason why I chased after her was because I knew it would piss him off. And shit, you should see her tits. Always begging for attention. Talk about a woman who needs a proper fuck.”
Nate’s stall door flew open, and he was moving before he’d even blinked, striding towards Ryan. He snatched the phone from Ryan’s hand, ended the call and tossed the mobile onto the vanity where it landed in a pile of bubbles underneath a leaking dispenser. A glob of soap dripped onto Ryan’s stupid face. Seriously, who had a picture of themself as their screen saver?
Assholes, that’s who.
And Nate was in no mood for assholery right now.
“You don’t speak to Eloise or about her like that. Or any woman. Do you hear me?”
Ryan stepped into Nate’s personal space with all the swagger and casual smugness of someone who truly didn’t give a shit. “Or what? You gonna hit me? Might damage your manicure.”
This fucking guy. The more Ryan mouthed off, the calmer Nate became, even if his hands had clenched into fists. He wasn’t going to get drawn into throwing a punch or starting a fight. He wouldn’t give Ryan the pleasure of knowing he’d got under his skin.
“Just stay away from her.”
“Kind of hard when she’s my partner. Pressing her body up against mine. I can feel the heat of her pus?—”
“Donotfinish that sentence.” Nate took a deep breath and did his best to ignore the triumphant gleam in Ryan’s eyes.
“Oh, fuck off. Like you haven’t said the same shit. You lived in locker rooms for years and now you’re trying to act all pious and like there aren’t pictures of you with multiple women on the same night. Everyone knows you’re a piece of shit, Nate. You can create charities and teach little kids how to fingerpaint and catch balls, but it will never eclipse the past. You’re just like the rest of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Eloise is waiting for me to teach her what it feels like when a real man touches her.”
Nate’s teeth ground together.
“It’s so much fun when they’re begging for it, isn’t it?”
Nate didn’t trust himself to speak just yet.
Ryan slapped Nate’s chest. “Actually, where are my fucking manners? Thanks for warming her up for me,bro.”
Nate took a step forward, his gaze catching on his reflection in the mirror. He towered over Ryan, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to control his emotions. “Don’t,” he said to Ryan, and to himself.
Thumping Ryan would feel good. Really good. But it wouldn’t solve this problem. Ryan would go on talking shit about women and antagonising other dudes just to get a reaction. He’d also press charges before Nate could say ‘douche canoe’. Nate took another deep breath and crossed his arms, stopping his appendages from accidentally swinging out and smacking Ryan one. But enough was enough. All the jokes and teasing were too much. Every time it happened, it chipped away at a bit more of himself. Nate was supposed to be working on not making himself small.
For himself.
And for Eloise.
For what they could be one day.
When he spoke, his voice was low, a hair above menacing. “You’re going to forget about Eloise. You don’t know anything about her. Not her name. What she looks like. You’re going to pick up your stuff and get out of here. She’s too good to even be in the same room as you. You’re always talking about how you’ve left Wattle Junction behind. Make that the truth. There’s nothing here for you anymore. You’re just a sad and lonely manipulator who tries to take advantage of good people so you can feel better about yourself and I’m so fucking sick of it.”
Without realising, Nate had been edging forward, corralling Ryan into the corner of the bathroom right next to the hand dryers. His hands shook.
“And if I don’t? What are you going to do? Run to Charlie and dob on me?”
“If you think Charlie will tolerate you talking about his sister that way, you clearly don’t know him at all. And I won’t just tell Charlie. I’ll tell everyone. Make sure there isn’t a person in Wattle Junction who doesn’t know what a dick you are.”
