Page 24 of The Love You Hate
CHAPTER SIX
Nate
Presley is gone like a shot. She took off as soon as we got here and vanished into the mob of people. I knew this was a possibility, of course. I wouldn’t take her here if I wasn’t prepared to protect her here, but then again, I also didn’t bet on her deviating so far from the personality I’ve come to know that she’s unrecognizable. She likes being with a crowd, which is ironic because it’s going to make my job that much more difficult. Off to the side, at one of the many drink carts, I see her balancing a beverage in each hand, syrupy liquid splashing over the edge of the plastic cups as she makes her way to our seats. I knew she’d be back eventually, but waiting had me truly worried.
Presley scoots in, passing the people next to us. People I don’t recognize like those in the parking lot. I’d seen them in Gold Hawke a couple times over the past days, and I recognized them immediately. Not that I think they’re a threat, but I wanted to make sure I kept out an eye for them if the opportunity arose. “I know you don’t drink,” she says, checking the number on her seat, “But I decided I’m going to drink enough for the both of us tonight.” Great. Let’s add in one more variable to really push me over the edge. I can’t tell her that she’s being a pain in the ass. What kind of friend would that make me? Especially after gaining her favor with the roller skates. She received the gift with more enthusiasm than I thought she would.
“What is in those?” I wrinkle my nose. Long Island iced teas if I had to guess. No mixer. Hoping it’s not laced with anything, too. I lost sight of her between the cart and our seats for about fifteen seconds. “They smell like rubbing alcohol.”
“They were like ten dollars apiece. I wanted to make sure to get my money’s worth.” I chuckle under my breath. The Princess of Wall Street worrying about how much drinks cost. Who would have ever thought they’d see the day? “Are you sure you don’t want one?”
Nodding, I pretend to be really interested in the crew setting up the stage. “Don’t disappear like that again. I was worried you might get kidnapped or something.” I chance a glance at her face and see pure terror. I gulp. “Isn’t that what happens at places like this? I read a news article a while back.”
“I suppose it is,” Presley comments, taking a shy sip instead of a huge glug. “Why did you bring that up? Also, what are you going to do if someone tries to kidnap me?”
I laugh. “Nothing. You’re way too much work.” Another testing glance. She’s even more scared than she was seconds before. “I was joking. No one wants to kidnap you. Are you really worried?” This is a backhanded way of making her a little more aware, and my job easier.
“I told you earlier. You should know better than to joke about that kind of stuff.” There’s two men on stage right I’ve had my eye on since we got here. They’re watching us now. I wonder if she knew there are people lurking in every corner if she’d ever leave her house again.
Clearing my throat, I apologize meekly. “You’ll be a drunken handful in,” I say, checking my watch. “Twenty-five minutes if I had to put money on it.”
She finishes one drink quickly as if to tell meto piss off–she’s in control of how quickly she’s going to imbibe. “Hey, what do you call a retired miner?” Presley asks, narrowing her gaze.
“Oh, so we’re falling back on jokes, are we? What?”
“Doug.” She cackles nervously, a cover for how she really feels. It’s all for show. I guess her entire existence has been for show so why would it be any different now that she’s in hiding?”
“That one was particularly bad. Just so you know. I’d retire that one.”
Her eyes go down to her second drink. “I know. I’m running out of material.” She scans the crowd, pretending to avoid the awkwardness. She knows I know her secret. At least in some capacity, and she’s letting her walls slip. That, or the key to honesty is alcohol and that could be a problem if she ever drinks in the presence of anyone but me.
The first band comes onto the red rock stage, and begins playing to the risers also made of rock. It’s a natural amphitheater, so the song ricochets off the walls, encapsulating the sound. I lean down to speak closer for her to hear. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” I’m not telling her anything of importance. I won’t have to report that my cover has been blown. Not that it matters to my superiors, or the mission, but it would matter to me. I don’t want her to know my secret either. It would change things. She’d look at me differently. I’m still working through why I give a fuck.
She looks up shyly through her lashes. “Yeah. I think I know that.” I barely make out her words, but I see trust reflecting back in her eyes. “I don’t know why I know that,” she says. “You are annoying and awful, but you buy me roller skates, and make me feel safe. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”
What’s that supposed to mean? We’re getting too close to emotions for comfort, but I can’t avoid them completely. Maybe they feel different because she’s a target and not someone I actually care about…like my cousin. Bile rises from my stomach when I let my real life slip into my work. This has never happened before. I breathe out deeply and gaze at my watch points. “How are you a glutton for punishment?” I ask, making sure my voice carries.
Presley doesn’t respond right away, I peer down at her and notice the second empty cup. “Who am I right now?”She furrows her brows. “Getting drunk to tell the truth.” She’s talking to herself, but it’s obvious she’s not finished. “I never have to drink to say what’s on my mind.”
Now, her glazed-over eyes meet mine just as a slow song starts. I push all of the emotion aside because I don’t want to feel like that again. The confusion, and the displaced feelings for someone who isn’t mine to care about…at least not in that way.
“It’s like I’m my old self when I’m here. Surrounded by all these strangers, except now I can finally blend in. I want to blend in, but also, I don’t. Not with you.” Her bottom lip pouts out, and I try to keep my face devoid of all emotion.
I wonder what she’d think if she knew she was quite literally the only star in my sky right now. My only priority. The one life more important than my own. What would she think of me then? She’d think I was a freak. No normal person can understand the level of sacrifice my career forces. That’s why I give a fuck, I realize. If Presley finds out I’m here for her, and only her, it would change everything. It also has the potential to make things even harder for me. “You don’t blend in with me. Remember? You’re the only woman who has ever propositioned me. Definitely not blending in material.” It’slighthearted, but I can tell she’s not happy with my response.
“No. Like I want you to want to be propositioned by me.”
I choke on a laugh. I can’t help it. The situation is unlike any I’ve ever been in. Staring blankly, the band plays a new song. The first few familiar chords cause an eruption of cheers. It’s a popular song, the whole world knows, but Presley is looking at me like I owe her money. She wants me to respond to her non-question. “Why don’t you just enjoy the concert and forget about it.”
As I suspected, Presley on alcohol isn’t easy to handle. “I don’t want to forget about it. People, well people in my past, haven’t acted this way toward me, and I want to know why. Is it because I’m not taken? Are other people’s property your thing?”
Now, I let my laugh slip. “What gave you that idea?”
She shrugs one shoulder, and her big eyes seem a little smaller as she narrows them in my direction. “The whole alpha male thing you have going on.”
Oh, yeah, the filter has gone by the wayside almost completely. I play dumb, because while it’s painful to watch her act so unlike herself, it’s also entertaining. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Your muscles. Your size. Your whole military man demeanor. Guys like you love to take what’s not yours. Right? Isn’t that your thing?”
