Page 65 of The Fate Of Us

My neck craned back as I pouted. “Do I have to?”

Golden tongs in hand, she pulled out one of the pastry trays, twisting whatever thecreations were that were topped with raspberries, a tight smile on her face as she said, “No, but I think it’d be good for you. I’ll be there too.”

My head tilted at her. “And I wantyouto enjoy the premiere, with your boyfriend…who’s one of the main stars. You two both deserve to have this night together, not spend it constantly looking over your shoulders to make sure I’m okay.” I pushed around the nearly melted ice cubes in my coffee with the straw, my gaze falling to the bottom of the glass. “Anyway, I think I’d rather never eat one of your custard tarts again than watch Nate escort Amber down the carpet.”

“Hmm,” she mockingly thought, “I’ll put you down as ‘not sure’ then.”

I flashed Flo a smile, less humorous than the one I’d just tried to hide, as she turned tocarry on with prepping for the bakery opening, leaving me with my thoughts.

I couldn’t help but cling to what she’d told me, let the realisation that Nate trulyblamed me for what happened mingle with the simmering rage deep in my stomach. I explored the shelves of my brain, trying to find that lost nugget of information that time has pushed to the back of my mind, hopefully making me remember the thing I supposedly did to make him ghost me for so long.

But nothing was stuffed into those shelves, nothing but sunsets, waves crashingonto our feet, and Nate’s teenage smile.

I missed that smile. A lot. It was one he only ever used to show me—a hiddentreasure that only I had the map to find. It used to crease the faint lines in the corners of his eyes and reveal two subtle dimples that made my stomach feel like the inside of a butterfly enclosure.

It’s all he did while reading any of the stories that I gave him; smile.Through every page, every plot twist; he smiled.

Eight Years Ago

“What chapter are you on?”I asked Nate, the spring sunshine tanning my back as Ilay on my front along the pier, the water sparkling below us, like a ship that was carrying diamonds had overturned somewhere in the distance, the jewels that had escaped now washing up with the tide.

The only sounds filtering between the ripples of the water were the distant squawkingof the ocean gulls.

I was going to miss these days when I left in the fall. But for now…

“Chapter…”he flicked back a few pages.“Fifty-three.”

My mouth gaped, salty spray from the waves brushing over my tongue.“You’resmilingand you’re reading chapter fifty-three? Does death excite you or something?”

His head fell back, allowing the sun to tan his bare chest, smooth as anything, andgolden like an award of the highest recognition. A laugh staggered out of him.“It’s King Ellis who’s dying, you know, the one everyone hates?”

I rested on my elbows, closing the sunkissed pages of my book, one I didn’t write.“Iknow my characters, douchebag, but if King Ellis is dying, then what does that mean? Who’s next in line—”

“Oh, fuck.”The realisation that beamed on his face, remembering who my main characternow had to battle to save her lands, was as clear as the day that hung above us.“She’s gonna have to fight Alanora!”

The thrill of someone being so excited for something you wrote will never fail tomake me feel like a giant ball of sunshine. Eternally glowing with no sign of dulling.

“So, I’ll ask again, what’s with the smiling?”I asked, nudging my book to the side,fully sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the pier, the warm swill of water splashing my feet.

“I can’t help it,”he admitted, mirroring my position and putting the worn papers ofmy makeshift bound book behind him, the wave of water as he dipped his feet into the ocean splashing onto me, too."I’m just proud of you. And maybe I’m wondering why you haven’t sent this to every big publisher… thing… in the country.”

I kicked my feet idly.“I highly doubt those companies will take the time to look at ahalf-assed novel written by a seventeen-year-old who can’t spell.”

His smirk told me he’d spotted that I still couldn’t figure out which ‘there’ to use.

“You could just rely on that good old-fashioned name-dropping. You have more connections than anyone your age should have, Addy. Tell one of the producers on that movie—”

“Nate, what kind of writer would I be if I let my name do all the work for me?”I methis eyes.“I want these books to come to life on their own; not because I used my fame to release them into the world. ”The corners of his mouth dipped as I fiddled with my hands in my lap, my eyes dropping from his to the glistening flecks that danced in the water.“But… what if I’m saying all this and they’re not good enough.”

One of his hands found its way to mine, interlocking our fingers.“I may not be asbig a bookworm as you, but believe me when I say that these books, Addy, deserve to be read by everyone. They’re amazing.”The squeeze he sent through my hand caused my head to face him, connecting with those aquamarine pools I wanted to swim in more than the stretch of water before us.“You’reamazing.”

I have to admit, the Nate that was looking at me now was different from the boy Iknew only yesterday. I noticed a change in him when he knocked on my door this morning, something more… grown up about him. So sure of himself.

He was holding my stare longer than he ever had before, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I couldn’t bring myself to drop his gaze, his eyes seeming to lure me in, closer to him.

“You’re amazing… too.”I barely whispered, causing his eyes to break their recordstare and dip to my mouth, hanging on the remaining sheen of lip balm that lived on them, before slowly dragging his eyes up my face.

“Can I be honest with you?”he asked as he met my eyes once more, the sounds andwonders of a new spring seeming to fade away the more he dominated the moment.

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