Page 105 of Never With You
Nate’s sunglasses hide his gaze, but the subtle movement of his head—side to side, the length of my body—tells me what he’s looking at. I’m not mad. If anything, his checking me out stirs something exciting inside.
“Get a good look, Costanza?” I say without flinching.
“What?” Nate startles. “No. I was just…” He places his hands on his hips, looking down at me. “You watchSeinfeld? Because I watchSeinfeld.”
I smirk. “Nice subject change.”
“I thought it worked well.” He drops his bag and sits on the lounge chair next to mine, twisting to stretch out his towel over the back.
“You’re staying? By me?”
“You are my girlfriend. It would be weird if I didn’t.”
“Fakegirlfriend.” With how everything’s been going between us the past couple of days, the clarification seems necessary.
This isn’t real. These feelings for Nate aren’t real.
He lies back, putting an arm behind his head for a pillow. “Yes, why aren’t you my real girlfriend?”
My mind stumbles over his question, but I recover fast enough to say, “Because we’d kill each other.”
“That was before we knew each other—the real us. Now that we do, we don’t have any reason to fight.”
“Maybe not, but you’re still my coworker and?—”
“You like that other guy,” he interrupts.
I turn my head from him, glancing down the beach. “Yes.”
“So what does that guy have that I don’t?”
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s personal and embarrassing.”
“I think we’re well beyond personal and embarrassing.”
I scrunch my nose, looking back at him as I debate.
“Come on.” He nudges my leg with his toe. “What’s so special about the other guy?”
I bite my lip, refusing to speak. But then I realize talking to Nate about Mr. International might not be the worst idea in the world. It would establish a clear boundary in our relationship if we discussed romantic feelings between another man and me. Plus, Nate is a guy. Maybe he could give me some advice on how to handle the recent radio silence.
“For starters”—I flip my gaze to him—“I don’t work with him.”
“I see. And…” His fingers roll, gesturing for me to continue.
“And I have a strong emotional connection with him.”
“Where you and I are more physical.” He says it like a statement of fact, not a question.
I straighten. “Exactly.”
“So he’s ugly.”
“No!”
