Page 240 of Before We Were

"You don't want to be up here." I tap my temple, forcing a smile. "Trust me. It's chaos."

Nate watches me with those eyes that see too much. He shifts, wincing, and I try to move off his lap, but his hands keep me still.

"I like you here," he smirks, making my heart somersault. "Seriously, though. What were you thinking about before I showed up?"

I hesitate, twisting my sleeve between my fingers like I'm wringing out the words.

"It's nothing,” I whisper. "You've had such a horrible night, and my problems feel small now??—"

“Tell me, please." He interrupts, cradling my face like I'm made of stardust.

My gaze drifts to the stars that watch us with ancient eyes.

"I was thinking about Dad," I say softly, words catching like thorns. "When I look at the stars, I talk to them. It feels… it's the closest I can get to him now."

Nate's jaw tightens, his gaze dropping to the dark water below.

"You know, your dad came to see me," he says finally. "After everything with the scholarship and expulsion. I was in a bad place, so I called him after Scott…" His voice breaks on memories too sharp to touch. "He flew in the next day and sat with me in the park eating burgers."

My breath catches, pieces of the past clicking into place.

"He said it was a teaching conference," I whisper, truth unspooling in my chest. "What did you talk about?"

His eyes drift away, heavy with unspoken words. "He told me I wasn't my mistakes. That I could choose better if I wanted better."

"And do you?" The question slips out before I can catch it. "Want better?"

"Yeah, I think I do." He nods, eyes glassy in the moonlight. "Your dad was more of a father to me than Scott ever was." His voice breaks like waves on rocks.

I cup his face, thumb brushing the bruise on his cheek with reverence. "Dad loved you like his own, Nate," I murmur, pouring truth into every syllable. "He was so proud of you. I know he still is."

His lips part, stunned silent. I press on, needing him to understand.

"He kept every newspaper clipping about you, even made your mom send him your school newsletters. He was proud of the boy you were and the man you're becoming, despite everything. Maybe even because of everything."

Nate's gaze dips to the iPod beside me, and I follow his line of sight.

"You know, this song…" I begin saying, lifting it.

A smirk tugs at his lips. "Let me guess, it's your favorite?"

"How'd you know?" I tease, tilting my head.

"Because I know you." His quiet certainty sends ripples through my soul. When his hand covers mine, warmth radiates from the touch, and my heart stumbles to keep pace with the shifting air between us.

"You know what this song reminds me of?" he asks, voice intimate as a secret.

"What?"

"That time we danced on the dock under the night sky."

Before I can question him, Nate shifts beneath me. With careful grace, he pushes himself up, bracing against his bruised ribs. Even injured, there's a fluid strength to him that makes my pulse flutter. He reaches for the iPod, but I snatch it first. Rising slowly, he masks his pain with determination that tugs at something deep inside me. Standing tall, he extends his hand—a silent invitation that speaks volumes.

"Dance with me."

I laugh softly. "This is becoming a thing now."

"Yeah, but it's our thing." His smile unfolds slowly, the kind that makes time pause, that turns everything else to background noise.

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