“Yeah,” Nate sighs. “It’s… It’s all fucked up.”
We step in the street, our mood significantly darker than it was two minutes ago.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” I say as we start to walk. “We all came here because Jack wanted to. I think, even if the talk went poorly, he got the closure he wanted.” The closure heneeded.“And I don’t want to talk about what was said with our siblings or the way I cried against your chest. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen for now.”
“So, where are we headed?” Nate asks, not pushing it further. “I’ve never been to Aspen other than a couple of weeks in the winter to ski with my parents.”
“You never visited?”
“Not really. We went skiing, then ate at our hotel, then repeated the process over two long weeks.”
I turn my face to look at him. There’s nothing on his face indicating he enjoyed that time.
“You don’t like to ski?”
He shrugs. “I don’thateit,” he pauses, seemingly lost in thoughts. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t allowed to just stay in my room to do something else. I had to come with them no matter if I wanted to or not.”
I would definitely hate it too. Like the pictures we were all forced to take on Christmas… Can’t stand it now.
“But honestly, when I see your parents, I don’t feel like complaining about mine…” He adds with a wince.
“Come on, they are pretty shitty parents, but it doesn’t mean there are not worse or equally bad parents anywhere else.”
“I know. But mine are not as bad. Definitely not parents of the year, butI mostly can’t complain.”
Meaning they haven’t ignored, disowned, belittled, lied, or spat at his face. What an achievement.
A little gush of wind makes me tighten my jacket around me. We’re a far cry from L.A here, with a windy 66 degrees. It changes from the oven feeling of California.
“Are you cold?” Nate asks, a concerned look on his face.
“No, I’m fine. I was surprised by the wind.” He narrows his eyes at me before shrugging off his black denim Jacket. “Oh, no, no! I swear I’m okay, and you’ll get cold if—”
“I’m not cold. And I still have my sweater, so I’ll be fine.”
He drapes the jacket over my shoulder and our eyes meet. Intense blues against wide browns.
“Thank you,” I murmur, not able to look away.
He leans closer. Slowly. So, so slowly, one of his hands reaching for the side of my neck, cupping my jaw.
It’s only been forty eight hours since our date, but we haven’t been alone—let alone kissed—since he dropped me at the house.
His lips are soft against mine, moving slowly, like he’s worried I’ll be spooked if he goes too fast. His tongue barely brushes mine when I deepen our kiss.
And yet, when we stop, we’re both holding our breath for a few heartbeats, our foreheads pressing against one another, our breaths mingling as we stand still in the middle of the sidewalk.
“You look hot wearing my clothes,” he simply says, a soft smile stretching his lips.
“It’s just a jacket.”
“I’m also referring to that time you wore one of my shirts. Without a bra.”
I grin, biting my lip. “Did you know that I was also not wearing panties that morning?”
His breath catches in his throat. “Fuck sweetness, you’re killing me.”
He gives me a peck on the forehead and we start to walk again, only stopping when we arrive in front of a restaurant. A place that was special for Jack and I.
