A Midsummer's Nightmare(62)

I felt Nathan’s hand reach out for me, his palm moving to the small of my back. Like a reminder. Or maybe a reassurance.

These people were my family. They’d be here for me no matter what. No matter what people said, what mistakes I made… or who I fell for.

And just then, I made up my mind.


The paper felt hot between my fingers. Slick, too. Probably wet from the sweat on my palms. So gross. But whatever. I wasn’t backing out now. Not when I was this close.

My fist clenched around the Post-it as I knocked on Nathan’s bedroom door with my other hand. My heartbeat sped up dramatically, and for a minute I thought I might have a nervous breakdown. This should not have been so hard. I mean, I’d been talking to guys for years. Flirting with them. Hooking up with them. This should have been easy.

“Come in.”

I exhaled and pushed open the door. He was sitting on his bed, wearing a Battlestar Galactica T-shirt and reading an X-Men comic book. I couldn’t help smiling a little, despite my nervousness. Who would have guessed that a nerd would be the one to rope me in? A hot nerd, but still definitely a nerd.

“Hey,” he said, putting the comic aside. “What’s up?”

“I… um…” I looked down at my clenched fist. The yellow corners of the note poked out between my fingers. “It’s about the other night. What you said… in my room.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. I looked up to find him staring at me, his eyes wide. He shifted, sitting up a bit straighter. Like he was just as anxious as I was. How ridiculous was this? We both knew rejection wasn’t waiting for us. We both knew how the other felt—because I was sure he could see right through me. So why was this so scary?

I looked down at my feet, avoiding his gaze. “I… well, here.” I tossed the Post-it onto the bed like it was scalding my flesh or something. I was so eager to get it out of my hand. So eager to have everything out in the open.

He leaned over to pick up the crumpled piece of paper, and I waited with bated breath as he read. Waited… waited…

“I don’t get it.”

Goddamn it. Of course he didn’t.

“Think about it,” I insisted.

“It’s your cell number,” he said, staring down at the yellow square of paper. “Whit, I already have your number. It’s programmed into my phone. Why do I need—”

“It’s a symbol,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Come on, Nathan. Don’t make me say it.”

He read over the digits a few more times before I finally saw a light flicker behind his eyes, and he looked up at me, that familiar smile spreading across his face. “So, you…?”

“Yeah,” I said, exasperated. “Why else would I be here?”

Before another word could escape either of our throats, he slid off the bed and walked toward me. It felt so natural as his arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me into him. Like we fit together. It all came so easily. The way his lips found mine, even with both our eyes closed. The way his palm seemed to meld perfectly against my back. The way my arms fit around his shoulders. Like pieces of a puzzle, and this time I belonged.

In a lot of ways, this was my first kiss. My first real one, at least. The first one that actually meant something. It was everything I’d hoped for at Bailey’s age. Before the parties and the boys got involved. The kind of greedless kiss I never really thought I would find.

But here it was. Right in the middle of what, up until very recently, I’d considered the worst summer of my life.

Maybe it wasn’t such a nightmare after all.





28


The photos didn’t stop popping up on Facebook. Ever since the night at the Nest when I’d finally decided to ignore the stupid shit people were saying about me, I hadn’t checked the page or even asked Nathan about it. I didn’t want to care about it anymore. Still, Sylvia had pulled me aside after dinner one night to check in.

“Are you okay? I know the page is still up. Are you sure you don’t want me to pursue this, Whitley?”

“I’m fine,” I said. And, for the most part, I meant it. “It probably was cyber-bullying, but I’ve stopped letting it get to me, so I’m pretty over it.”

She nodded and touched my arm. “I’m glad, but let me know if you change your mind. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

And, really, I was. Nathan, Bailey, Harrison—they’d all shown me that it wasn’t important what the idiots in this town thought of me. They loved me, and that’s what mattered.

As Sylvia walked away, though, I wished she hadn’t been the one talking to me about this. It had always been her. But it needed to be Dad. I wanted him to discuss the issue with me instead of just blowing it off.

The next morning, after a new picture appeared online, I got my wish. Just not in the way I’d hoped.

The photo had been taken at the Nest. On Tuesday night, the day after Bailey’s tryouts, Nathan, Harrison, and I had decided to take her out to celebrate.

As soon as we got to the Nest, the four of us found a booth close to the dance floor. Bailey was bouncing up and down excitedly, her little white sandals tapping along to the music. I didn’t think she’d stopped smiling since the tryouts. And it was pretty goddamn contagious. We all had grins smeared across our faces because of her.