Page 54 of If You Say So

Fourteen

Blake

I peek at my phone,noting another three minutes have ticked by…and I don’t have a single text or missed call.

Same as the last twenty minutes.

I don’t think Nate is coming.

Did he get my note? Does he not want to meet?Maybe he’s grown tired of this back and forth between us, tired of waiting.

Or maybe he just doesn’t want me anymore.

It’s been over three weeks since that night in our room.

After Nate made his promises, he kissed me until my lips were numb, until I couldn’t tell my fingers from my toes, and then he wrapped his arms around me and held me until we both fell asleep.

He was gone the next morning.

Our interactions have been limited, but not in the same way they were before. This time around we’re friendly, flirty even. Our chemistry is back to being palpable.

He’s left me a note every single day. Sometimes they’re fun, sometimes they’re serious, and sometimes they force me to have a little one-on-one time in my room.

Now, I’ve never been one for big romantic gestures, and I don’t even think the sole motivation behind the notes is about rekindling our relationship, but I can’t deny that they’ve been a deciding factor in why I’m here tonight.

The past three weeks have been some of the longest of my life, and that’s boiled down to one thing: being away from Nate.

I can’t do it anymore. Even when I’m at my lowest, he’s still my highest high. I don’t see the point in denying myself any longer. I’m ready to give us another shot.

He’s the light to my darkness, and I’m tired of fumbling around not being able to see.

“Son of a bitch!”

The words are faint, but I hear them.

“Fuck this stupid fucking tree house.”

I listen as the boards nailed to the tree begin to rattle with Nate’s weight.

“Almost got me shot with a damn BB gun.Meet me at the tree house,he says.Private-fucking-propertyis what I say. I had to run from a goddamn Chaweewee.”

I try hard to hold back my laughter. I guess I didn’t mention to him that I spoke with the new owner and he was completely okay with me using it…just maybe not this late at night.

He grumbles and mutters something I can’t decipher. “He is damn lucky I love him. Better get at leastthreekisses for this shit.”

With a final grunt, he pulls himself through the hole in the floor.

He’s facing the opposite direction and doesn’t know I’m here.

“Chihuahua.”

Nate lets out a surprised gasp and twists my way, glaring. “What?”

Laughing, I say, “They’re called Chihuahuas, not Chaweewees.”

He places his hands on the floorboards and hauls himself the rest of the way in. Standing, he brushes his palms off on the thighs of his jeans and mutters, “Same difference.”

Having him so close makes the nerves begin to churn in my stomach.

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