Four
Blake
Present day
I watchfrom the shadowed hall as Nate takes a stroll down memory lane, telling Mateo about how we used to have study sessions just like these.
“Though I hope you’re not going asin depthas we went.”
Mateo’s brows pinch together in confusion, and I let out a loud groan.
He knows I’ve been standing here, listening this whole time, and he’s trying to get the best of me with his double entendre.
The worst part? It’s working. I can feel my body heat at his words, at the memories floating through me of themanystudy sessions Nate and I have had over the years.
I stalk into the room, my footsteps heavy with annoyance. “That’s enough, Nate.” My voice is low and angry.
That lopsided, cocky grin of his takes shape as he pushes himself off the counter, hands outstretched in peace. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You implied it, and you know it.”
“But that’s different from saying,” he argues.
“It’s all about the implication.”
His lips twitch in victory as I quote one of our favorite TV shows, and it pisses me off even more.
“God, I fucking hate you,” I spit out.
Another grin. “Good.”
A cloud of red rage washes over me, and I remind myself there’s someone else in the room before I completely lose my shit.
He knows I don’t hate him, and that goddamn grin is his way of taunting me with that knowledge.
I rip my eyes open and direct my attention toward Mateo, praying the distraction will talk me off the ledge. “Ready to get started?” I ask him.
He bounces his attention from me to Nate and back again.
His lips purse together, brows drawn tight in concentration.
“You two are dating.”
It’s not a question; it’s a statement.
Nate and I have always kept things low-key, and not too many people knew we were dating. It’s not that we were ashamed to be together, it just wasn’t any of their damn business.
“No,” I say at the same moment Nate says, “We were.”
Were.
God, the past tense of that word sounds so…final, heavy,hurtful.
“So you’re not currently dating one another but you did?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”