Page 16 of On the Edge

I stop flipping the hangers when I land on a hunter green sweater dress. I bought this one because of how it played up the green in my eyes, though I’ve never worn it because it is so short—one of the curses of being five feet, ten inches tall. But with these boots, it could work. I pull it on and am satisfied with how the long sleeves and crew neck cover everything except for the six inches between the tops of the boots and the hem of the dress. Perfect.

My phone pings on the shelf next to me and I grab it and a crossbody bag that I’ll use tonight.

Sierra:Be there in two minutes. Will wait for you in the lobby. Want to get some pictures of you in those boots in front of that stone wall before we go out.

Jackson:Okay, I’ll head down.

I throw my necessities into the bag, sling the leather strap over my shoulder, and head out to the hallway. The elevator chimes as it reaches the third floor, and I rush toward it, glad that I won’t have to keep Sierra waiting. Oddly, no one seems to be getting out, so I step quickly forward to make sure the doors don’t close before I get in.

The minute I cross the threshold into the elevator, I freeze, because there, staring down at his phone like he’s trying to bore holes into it with his eyes, is Nate.

Nate glances up as the doors close behind me. “Holy shit,” he growls.

“What’s the problem?” I’m the one who should be annoyed with him, not the other way around. I’d maintained a very professional attitude all week, despite the number of times he’d tried to bait me with his teasing and despite the fact that he almost always took his shirt off at some point during his workout so I was forced to notice he had an eight-pack that ended with a perfectly cut V that headed down into his gym shorts. He is in the best shape of his life, and happy to flaunt it whenever he can.

“Nothing,” he says, but his eyes are squinting and his brows are drawn down like he’s wincing.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” I ask as I reach over to the panel and push the button for the lobby.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to murder me.” I used to know Nate so well, I could tell what every single one of his facial expressions meant. By the timbre of his voice, I could tell what he was feeling. I knew what all the nuances of his body language meant. It doesn’t seem that I’ve retained any of that intimate knowledge, those things I once understood without having to even think about them are missing. Nate is a stranger now, as much as I’m sure I am to him.

“You just surprised me.” He shrugs, but he eyes me skeptically and I return his glare. “Going out?”

As if I’d be dressed up like this otherwise. “Yeah, girls’ night. I better not run into you while I’m out.” I don’t know what possesses me to say that. Nate’s dressed in the same sweatpants he was wearing earlier today at the Center, and he clearly hasn’t showered since he worked out. He doesn’t appear like he’s headed out for the night.

“Okay, but fair warning,” he says, “I’m headed out tonight too.”

He’s only lived here for a week, how could he have friends to go out with already? But I don’t ask. I don’t want to know if he has a date or if he’s going out with guys on the team; it doesn’t matter to me and I don’t want him to think I care more than I actually do.

The elevator slows as we approach the first floor and I step toward the door. Nate’s looking back down at his phone, ignoring me. “Hey, Nate,” I say as the doors open again.

“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes sweep up slowly from my toes, along my legs, and up my body, before they land on my face. I wish I could control the way my body responds, so that I didn’t get that slight chill in my spine that comes from nervous anticipation as his eyes moved over me.

“Why didn’t you get off, earlier?”

“What?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

I realize that may have come off sounding more sexual than I intended. “You were already in the elevator when it opened on our floor. So why did you come back down instead of getting off upstairs?”

“Oh.” He pauses for a moment like he’s trying to remember. “I forgot to get my mail.”

He follows me out of the elevator and turns into the mail room. “Have fun tonight,” he calls before the glass door shuts behind him.

I walk across the lobby, where Sierra is sitting on a couch with her mouth hanging open. “What just happened?” She stands as I approach and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’m not sure. I just had the weirdest exchange with Nate in the elevator.” I quietly tell her what happened.

“Hmm,” she responds. “Well you look gorgeous, so he’s probably just hiding in the mail room beating himself up for ever letting you get away.”

“Don’t put ideas like that in my head,” I insist. “I don’t even want to think about a scenario where Nate is regretting his choices.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you want him pining after you now that you’re so much happier without him?”

“I just ... I don’t want to even think about what happened between us. It was all so long ago, I just want to forget there was ever anything there.”

“But you haven’t forgotten about it,” Sierra reminds me. “I hesitate to say this, because I know you’ve moved on, but maybe you should just talk to him and find out what happened. You know, see if there’s a justification for what he did. Aren’t you curious?”

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