Page 2 of Selfie

I’m here because in the dead of night, the pool area is loud enough to drown out all my thoughts. Cozying up underneath my blanket, the sound of water splashing, crashing, and trickling finally lulls me to sleep.

And I swear I’ve only shut my eyes for a minute when I’m awoken by the god-awful sound of a metal chair scraping against concrete.

Before I can respond with a “what the fuck,” I open my eyes to seehimsitting right in front of me.

“Good. You’re awake,” he says flatly.

Nathan’s eyes toggle between green and blue. Green when he’s focused. They look more blue when he smiles. But right now, they look discolored—just dark and angry. His suit jacket that matches his gunmetal-gray pants is missing. The dress shirt he’s wearing is untucked and wrinkled. His stubble is visible. He looks exhausted.

“You startled me.” I shimmy out from under the blanket, letting it fall to my waist, then throw my hand over my heart to theatrically convey my point. The light evening breeze chills my skin through my thin, black pajama set.

“Now we’re even.” He shifts his weight to pull his phone out of his back pocket. To my extreme discomfort, he pulls up our text conversation, then holds the phone out in front of my face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to?—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. I’m relieved when he sets the phone down by his thigh.

“Tell you what?”

“About Casey. I nearly ripped his head off tonight when I found out the real story.”

“What do you mean—” I stop midsentence. “Wait. How are you here? You were in L.A.”

For a split second he looks vulnerable as his gaze falls to his lap. “I drove…fast.”

Nathan always takes a private jet from L.A. to Vegas because he can’t stand the idea of being in a car for more than half an hour. “What time is it?” I ask.

He peers at his phone. “Quarter past one.”

The cogs in my brain slowly start moving. That means Nathan saw the picture, immediately got in a vehicle, then drove like a bat out of hell in the middle of the night. He shaved an entire hour off a four-hour drive. “You weren’t on a date?”

He looks positively disturbed. “Of course not.”

“You had a private block on your calendar.”

He hangs his head and nods. “The bachelor party got moved back a night. We found a better location. My dad has access to my calendar, I didn’t want him to see and ruin the surprise.”

“Oh.”

His lips curl in a small smirk. “Why? Were you jealous?”

I’m not in the mood for our usual banter. I hang my head and nod solemnly.

“If you think for one second I’d get over you that quickly, you must not know how I feel about you.”

“I thought I blew it and maybe you were trying to forget everything that happened between us.” I force myself to meet his gaze. It’s not enough to hear his reply. I want to see his genuine eyes, the ones that make me feel so safe and sure that I’m making the right decision.

“I couldn’t forget if I tried. And I don’t want to.” He scoots forward, getting closer. “Where’s Charlie?”

“A sleepover party she got invited to at the last minute.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s making more friends.”

“Me too.”

“Are you mad I pulled her on stage and asked her to perform at the charity event last week?”

“I’m not,” I quickly tell him.

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