Page 97 of Prove You Wrong

He keeps his head nuzzled into mine. His voice husky. ‘I never gave them my name. Made sure they were from out of town. They knew the deal that we wouldn’t see each other again. I never took them home; they didn’t know where I lived. If they were okay with all that, then … ’ His words trail off.

‘You don’t seem to be that kind of guy anymore.’

‘I’m not. And I haven’t been for a long time. I guess trying to prove you wrong about me made me realise … ’

‘That you’re actually a decent guy?’ I smile up at him.

‘It does seem that way, yes.’ His thumb traces my cheek bone. ’I used to be a fucking smooth operator. Cool as a fucking cucumber. But now, thanks to you, I can’t seem to stop running my mouth off. Blagh.’ He shakes his head as if to make himself stop talking. ‘Tell me something about you. Something I don’t know.’

Entwining my fingers with his, I lead us back along the promenade. ‘Something deep or, like, my favourite colour?’

‘Whatever you want to tell me.’ He shrugs with a smile.

I take a moment. Nate’s shared so much. I feel safe, like I could open up to him, too. A thought darts into my mind, something I should confess.

‘I can relate.’ I sneak a glance at him but he’s looking at me with his baby-blues, all reassuring and non-judgmental. ‘I was on the verge of some kind of meltdown in the pub that night. Scratch an itch, Josie had said. Sounds so gross.’ I chuckle but Nate’s staring at me so earnestly my laugh fades. ‘Everything was going wrong, like everything, so I tried to let off some steam … except, well, you were there.’ I smile at the memory. ‘It was more like detonating a nuclear bomb.’

He squeezes my hand but doesn’t interrupt.

‘I was such a fucking hypocrite though.’ I wince. ‘Judging you for being this bad guy who was only after one thing … when it was me who onlyhad one thing on her mind.’ I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I think you had lots on your mind. Wasn’t that the point?’ His eyes darken. ‘I recognised it in you. Knew you needed the release.’

My blush burns down my neck. He’s always been able to tell exactly how I’m feeling, sometimes before I can.

‘We’re kindred spirits, you and me,’ he continues. ’Making rules for ourselves,’ his voice rasps. ‘The suffocating fear of rejection.’

Blushing harder at how much he trulyseesme, I hold his gaze for a long beat. Gulping, I try to change the subject by saying, ‘So, about those favourite colours, huh? Mine’s red.’

He stops me, taking my face in his hands, running his thumb over my cheeks and down my throat, tugging a little on the neckline of my top. Tracing some invisible path.

‘That’s fast become my favourite colour too.’

Chapter 28

Nate

Scott only needs me until ten and I'm out of The Bull by a minute past. I race back to my apartment to beat Ella there and do a quick tidy round to tone down the bachelor pad aesthetic.

The buzzer rings as I smooth some clean sheets onto my bed. My heart stutters in my chest. From the moment I met Ella, I've been on a mission to see her again, to tease and make her blush. To show her the real me. But now, it feels kind of weird to be relaxed. I've shown her my truth and she’s still here. Told her all of my iniquitous past, leaving me feeling light and free but at the same time, somehow, bound to her. Now, it feels like we have all the time in the world. I feel comfortable.Happy.And that's fucking terrifying.

I vault down the stairs to let her in. She nibbles her lip, a nervous smile on her face, and I can't wait to kiss her anxiety away.

‘Hey.’ I hold the door back for her.

‘Hey, yourself.’ She steps through into the lobby. As she brushes past, a waft of lavender surrounds me and I breathe it in.

I scoop her bag off her shoulder and pull her close, brushing my lips against hers.

‘Thanks for coming. I’m on the second floor.’ Grasping her delicate hand in mine, I lead her up and into the flat.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ I deposit her bag on the floor by the sofa. ‘Cocktail? Beer? Wine? Tea?’

She follows me into the kitchen as I rummage for some glassware.

Ella’s biting her lip again when I turn to hear her response.

‘I’m not thirsty,’ she whispers, echoing her words from our first stolen moments weeks before.

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