Page 19 of Somewhere Only We Know
“You can touch me whenever you want,” Nate’s voice takes on a desperate pull.
My other hand comes up and slides around his neck. It’s one of the only other ways I can touch him in this cramped space. I’m about to close the last breath of space when a car honking scares us both and we fly back in our seats. I look over at Nate who’s running his hands over his head and then putting his discarded hat back on.
“To be continued?” I ask to lighten the mood.
Nate takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it, making my heart flutter and soar. “You will be the death of me.”
I smile obnoxiously as we climb out of the car. Nate rounds the back and waits for me with his hand outstretched and his camera around his neck. Linking our fingers together, we head off to the entrance.
“Tomorrow’s the Championship game, right?”
“Supers and then the championship,” he breathes out.
“You don’t sound excited,” I say with a hint of curiosity in my voice.
He unwinds our hands to pay for the tickets and then we’re off through the turnstile. I can’t wait to get lost in this place with Nate. But first I need to find out why he doesn’t seem as excited.
“I am. But it could be my last game.”
“What do you mean?” I ask and hold my hand out for him. My smile takes over my whole face when he holds the camera up and snaps a photo.
He takes my still out-stretched hand and then we’re off. “On the way back, Coach asked about my plans for the future.”
“I thought you were looking at internships?”
Nate has had his sights set on some of the top architecture firms in the country. While I know he would love to own his own company, he would need some serious financial backing and a fleshed out business plan for that to come true.
We stroll through the entrance of the gardens to the first exhibit. The flowers are in full bloom. Bees, butterflies, and birds flit around the flowers and through the sky. It’s magnificent.
“I was—am. But Coach said it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I looked into putting my name in for the draft.”
I look at him with so much awe. I know how much he likes sticking to the plan of a job after college, but this is the professional league we’re talking about.
“Bub, why do you seem so hesitant? This is great news, right?”
He drops my hand and pulls the camera up to his face again. I see him do some movements on the lens and adjust some settings before I hear the click of the shutter. I look and see his focal point is of a bee buzzing around some flowers.
“If I enter, with the possibility of getting drafted, I would miss our final year.” Nate says it as if him being drafted is a done deal. But if I know him like I think I do, he’s already in shutdown mode.
I give him a chance to find his words and take us into the butterfly house. Nate is in heaven as he snaps pictures of every available surface. I take the camera from his hands and ask a woman to take a picture of us.Thank you, I mouth to her and then hand the camera back to Nate who looks more comfortable behind a lens than in front of it.
I hold my hand out for him to grab once we leave the small area. “Come on.”
His brow furrows but he does so without protest. I lead us over to a bench that’s off to the side of the water show. Nate takes dozens of pictures from our spot and I know it’s his way of avoiding talking. He’s never been a big talker. I’ve always been the chatty one in our friendship and I’ve never minded it. But now I need his words more than anything.
“Hey.” I start and stretch up to kiss him on the cheek. “Talk to me, bub. Where’s your head at?”
“I have given it a quick thought. I mean what kid doesn’t dream of playing professionally?” He grabs my legs and rests them over his lap. We’re as close as we can get without me sitting on his lap. My hand falls on his that are on my legs and I rest the other one along his shoulders. “Say I enter and I get drafted. I leave you and my family.”
“Is that why you’re so unenthused? You’re worried about me and your family?” I look at him with serious eyes and his slight nod is enough for me to continue. “I adore you more than you know for thinking about me. But your family would call you an idiot if you passed this chance up. And I would have to agree with them.”
“I could always enter the draft next year. Fine tune my skills, condition more…”
I shake my head as firmly as possible. “Your skills don’t need any fine tuning. If anything you have the best technique and natural ability of any baseball player I’ve seen in years.”
“You’re just saying that to get in my pants,” he jokes.
“Nathan, this isn’t funny.”
