Page 113 of Freshman

“Then what?”

Nate’s smile climbed higher. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve got it all sorted. All you’ve got to do is come with me.”

“Is it true?” Alfie looked away from Nate’s eyes. “Is the reason you killed them true?”

“Yes.”

Alfie shut his eyes. He’d never know for certain, but his heart wanted to believe.

The gravel crunched under Nate’s shoes as he approached. His presence made Alfie shiver. He opened his eyes and stared into Nate’s blue ones. For the first time, Nate’s lacked confidence, and there was no predatory expression creasing his eyes and lifting his lips in that smug smile.

“Even if it was a lie…” Alfie began.

“It’s not,” Nate insisted.

“Even if it was… I’m too far gone on you.”

Nate’s smile was blinding. “I know.”

“I hate you,” Alfie whispered with no heat.

Nate shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

Those were the words he’d been desperate to hear, and his skin tingled. The suffocating feeling in his chest eased.

Alfie inhaled a deep breath, then took his time letting it go.

“I want to hate you.”

The numbness he protected himself with dispersed, and he stumbled, falling forward on weak knees.

Nate caught him.

“Now that,” Nate murmured, “I do believe, but you don’t, you won’t, you can’t.”

Alfie closed his eyes at the feel of soft fingers on his face. Nate lifted his chin, and the ghost of his breath tickled Alfie’s lips. His heart fluttered back to life after lying dormant for months, and his head grew dizzy in his need for Nate.

“Was I…” Alfie’s voice trailed off.

“Were you?”

Alfie’s heart hurt. “A back-up plan? If you wouldn’t have got out the way you did, would you have used me?”

“I’d never have used you like that.”

“I want to believe you—”

“You can. It’s the truth. I escaped for you.”

“I hate you,” Alfie repeated from before, “but I want you more.”

Nate snorted, then tipped Alfie back in his arms. He touched his blood-coated lips to Alfie’s in a soft press, then pulled away to rest their foreheads together.

Alfie closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose, past the smell of blood, to Nate.

The warm, protective scent of Nate.

He leaned back to wipe his cuffed hands beneath Nate’s nose, cleaning as much of the blood as he could away before lifting onto his tiptoes.

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