I Wish You All the Best(25)

“No way.” I try my best not to laugh. “Really?”

“Ha!” Nathan tosses his head back. “How gullible are you?”

“Shut up.” I shove him.

“For real though, I’m here for student council.”

“Serious this time?”

“One hundred and ten percent. Our lovely president, Stephanie, has to work after school and wanted to go ahead and start planning Spring Fling stuff. It isn’t even for another few weeks, but there’s a lot to do.” Nathan tries to keep back a yawn but fails miserably, wiping at his eyes.

“Spring Fling?” I ask.

“You know how most schools are obsessed with football and homecoming?”

I nod. I’m all too familiar with Spirit Week, and the pep rallies, and the football game, and dances.

“Well, here at good ol’ North Wake High we’re more of a baseball crowd, but that season doesn’t start until the spring, so we have Spring Fling. Just take everything you’d normally do during homecoming but crammed into March instead of November. There’s even a dance.”

“What’s the theme?”

“A Night Under the Stars!” He accentuates every word by sticking his hand in the air. “It’s going to be about as fun as you’d imagine.”

“Sounds like it.” I haven’t been to any dances since middle school, and those were pretty sad excuses to corral students in the gym for an hour and listen to “clean” versions of popular songs.

“My vote was for Godzilla Attack, but that was shelved pretty fast.”

“They turned that down?” I pause. “Can’t believe it.”

“My, my, someone took his smartass pills this morning.” Nathan bumps into me with his shoulder. “So spill. What are you doing here?”

“Thomas wanted to come in early to grade some papers. Figured I’d get some peace and quiet while I was here.”

“Oh.” Nathan glances around. “I can leave if you want me to, then.” He makes like he’s going to stand up.

“No,” I say, before I even know I’ve opened my mouth. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” he starts to say, relaxing back into his spot, “I sort of thought you might be mad at me for something. If I did something to make you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s not you.” I sigh, wishing it was as simple as telling him the truth. “I’ve, um … just been going through some personal things.”

“Oh.” He spreads out his long legs. Really, how is it even possible for someone to have legs that long? “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Don’t know, you got anything on your mind?” I ask.

“Not really? Maybe collapsing in on myself at the idea of dealing with all these school events, and homework, and college letters coming in, but that’s not exactly great conversation.”

“Right,” I agree wholeheartedly.

“So we’ll sit here in silence?” Nathan pushes himself forward a bit, leaning his head back. “I’m cool with that. The world’s too loud sometimes.”

“You’re the last person I’d expect to say that.” I sneak a look at him, grateful that his eyes are closed. He’d make good money as a model, honestly. He has those sharp cheekbones and that smatter of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

Striking. That’s the word.

“Underneath this smooth and handsome exterior lies the soul of an isolated poet, Ben.” Nathan cracks a smile. He’s even got dimples, how is that fair? “Can’t you tell?”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

“Damn. Really?” He laughs. “I should work on that image. What do you think? More brooding? Or should I start wearing black turtlenecks?”

“Definitely more turtlenecks.” I grab my sketchbook again to work on the rose, not even bothering with the reference photo this time. “Don’t forget the black coffee though, and the hipster glasses with fake lenses.”

“Blegh, black coffee? Why would you punish yourself like that?”

“Hey, you’re the bohemian writer. It’s for the aesthetic,” I add.

“Noted.” He lets out a long, slow sigh. “If I fall asleep, you promise to wake me up?”

“Sure.”

“Pinky promise?” He sticks out his hand, pinky finger extended, and for a second, I just stare at it before it occurs to me that he’s serious.

I wrap my own finger around his.

“Pinky promise,” I say.

“This is where you go during lunch, isn’t it?” Nathan asks, his eyes still shut.

“Sometimes,” I whisper after what’s probably too long a silence. “Or I go to the art room.” I’m not quite sure why I tell him the truth. Maybe I owe him that much at least?

“Seems lonely.”

“Sometimes the world is too loud,” I repeat back to him.

That makes him laugh again. “Touché.” He takes another deep breath. “I guess there’s no point in asking you to join me for lunch today, huh?”