Not Today, But Someday(52)

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“It’s none of my business,” she says, shrugging. I stand up with her hand still in mine. “Why did you lie?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I didn’t... I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Well, you did.”

“I know, Emi. I shouldn’t have done it. I got nothin–”

“I’m talking about the lie, Nate,” she says flatly. “I don’t want to hear about what happened between you two. Like I said, that’s none of my business. But it’s not okay for you to lie to me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve regretted it since I said it.”

“Don’t do it again,” she says. “If we’re going to be friends, I expect you to be honest with me.”

“I will be,” I vow to her.

“Would I prefer that you’re not a man-whore?” she asks. “Probably, but that part of you has nothing to do with me.”

“That... part?”

“Oh, good God, you idiot,” she says, finally pulling her hand away. She’s smiling at me. “You know what I mean.”

I laugh a little to myself. “Yeah, I know what you mean. And trust me, that part of me probably needs some time away from everyone right now. Sex... the idea of it... doing it... it messes with me. I feel... insecure. I don’t know,” I tell her, unable to explain how dissatisfied I felt and how disgusted I was with my own actions.

I walk over to the nearly-empty bowl and bring it back to the center of the stage. We sit on either side of it, finishing off the fruit.

“That guitar was your dad’s, wasn’t it?” she asks softly, breaking the silence and putting her hand on mine.

I look into her eyes, nodding my head. “It was the last gift he ever gave me. We’d had one lesson together, the weekend before he died.”

I’m not sure what happened first, but it all felt simultaneous. I blinked my eyes, exposing two tears, and she enveloped me in a tight hug that elicited a few more. I never made a sound, but I’m sure she knew I was crying. She held me for minutes, and she let me be the one to break away. By the time she saw my face, the tears were gone, and the look of strength I knew she needed replaced my sadness.





CHAPTER 17 - EMI





When he finally meets my eyes, I see a glimpse of the mournful son who lost his father. I know Nate’s trying to be strong, but I can see through his facade. His eyes give him away. I like to see his vulnerability, but if he wants to hide it from me, I’ll play along. I smile at him, allowing the moment to pass.

“Have you ever written a song?” I ask him.

“Not really. I did start writing lyrics for one the other day in art class. They just came to me...”

“Is it about me?” I ask him. As soon as I see his response to my question, I wish I never asked it. His gaze is so intense, the energy between us is suddenly so charged, that I’m forced to look away.

“Emi, we need to talk,” he says. Still averting my eyes, I nod my head. “The song is about you.”

“I know,” I tell him. I’ve never been able to read another person so well, but when he was looking at me – looking through me – I could tell that he liked me. More than liked me. Sure, he’s teased me about it, and then, I could blame it on his playful sense of humor, but now, I can’t. I wonder what he sees in my eyes.

“If you told me right this very second that you’d changed your mind, and wanted a boyfriend, I would be the first in line for a date. I’d fight other guys off, I would,” he says.

“Like a knight,” I say with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just like that. But if you tell me you’re still not looking for a boyfriend, then I’ll respect that. I’ll back off–”

“I don’t want that–”

“You don’t want what?”

“I don’t want you to back off. But I don’t want a boyfriend, either.”

“Why?”

“I could like you, Nate. If I let myself, I could really like you, but I won’t. You get me. You understand me like no one else ever has, and I need someone with me who gets me.”

“I feel the same way. I don’t know why we–”

“Because if you ever hurt me, Nate, I don’t know that I could ever trust anyone again. I’m teetering over here. The man I always saw as the example – the ideal– he betrayed me. He betrayed my mother, and by doing that, he did it to me, too.”

“You’re going to forgive him–”

“I’m going to try,” I cut in, “but I haven’t yet. And whose help am I going to need for that? Who told me he’d do anything to help me?”

“I did.”

“You did.”

“And I will, whether I’m your friend or your boyfriend–”

“I feel like I could fall over and break with one tiny nudge in that direction. I don’t want you to be the one to push me over, Nate. I want someone around who can’t hurt me like that.”

“A friend could still hurt you like that,” he counters.

I consider his comment, and know he may be right. “But I don’t think you would.”