Gloss! I sound like some romantic fussing over her look for a date. Am I glossy or glitzy enough?
I part my hair in the middle and let it hang loose, so it comes just above my waist. I pull out and put away my sparkly royal blue eye shadow twice. That screams date, and I want to look more like gorgeous Miranda Kerr, just woken up from bed—screaming spectacular without trying at all. I shake my head, and dig back the eye shadow in the makeup bag. I layer on the mascara thick, work blush on my cheeks, and trade a lip-gloss for a lip-balm natural look.
Then I repeat that this is just a casual catch up. Just play it cool.
Running around in my bra and undies ten minutes before Nate’s arrival, I throw on my leggings and a sleeveless top cropped just at my waist. In the mirror I take in my long body, my eyes drawn everywhere they need to be, the hint of a bare stomach, and leggings, always a favourite. Then I run to the heater and crank it up so I’ll have no excuse to cover up it all with a big coat.
At the sound of a car pulling up in my driveway, I tell Mum to chill at the back of the house, and to take the boys to play drawings or blocks, or practically anything that will keep them busy.
I turn the TV on, flick to the music video channel and chill on the couch, one knee bent, my arm resting on it. Nate knocks on the door, and I tell him to “Just come in.”
He looks so right it knocks my breath of air away. I cover it with a chuckle, like Oh hey, you’re here, but I don’t know how that looks. He’s in washed-out jeans, and a fitted V-neck T-shirt with some grungy bands around one of his wrists. I look up to his face, and feel everything as usual. Same electrifying pale eyes. His effortless brown hair. Same smooth skin with a hint of stubble.
By the time I say, “Hey, come sit,” and pat the spot next to me, I can only hope it hasn’t been a moment too long.
He falls into the spot by my side, his shoulder grazing mine. He leaves it there and it feels so warm and cosy.
“Oh, hey,” I say again, leaning right over him to kiss his cheek, hi.
This stuns him, but I feel him relax and he rests a welcoming hand on my upper arm as he kisses my cheek back. His sweet woody-scented aftershave is in every breath I take. Eyes closed, I just want to stay leant over his body, my hand at his shoulder, his on mine, and feel a warmth that settles through me, unlike anyone who’s ever touched me has. There’s heat and then there’s warmth, and Nate is definitely warmth from head to toe.
A shiver tears down my spine. Damn body has given me away.
“You cold?” he says.
I pull back and force a smile. “Nah, all good. Let me get this thing for you.”
I come back into the living room, hearing Seth’s voice howling laughter and Tris whining noo to, I assume, Mum. As much as I love watching them play and laugh and cry, I pray they won’t come here.
Nate doesn’t notice me arrive initially. He’s leaning against the back of the couch, hands dug in his pockets, not all to interested by whoever is almost naked on TV. Then he does look up, sees me hiding his “thing” behind my back like I’m a cheeky three-year-old and I can’t help but grin. He fights to keep a straight face, too.
“Okay,” I admit, sitting, “it’s yours now, but I had to make it to get you here.”
His face is inquisitive, certainly not giddy, so I power on.
I pull the photo book around into my lap and turn my back slightly, facing his front so we can both look at it the right way. Of course, this means he’s more to my side and behind, which I try to not think about. I also decide to breathe through my mouth, because without seeing him front on, and imagining what his expression is like, breathing in his sweet, woody scent is too much.
“Here,” I begin on the cover page.
“This is a book full of all the reasons why I appreciate you.
“This first image is our group before school camp. You’d just eaten chilli noodles for a bet so your cheeks were flamed up, your eyes watering, your throat too tight to explain your pain, but I knew exactly what was happening to you by the various stages of pained looks in your eyes. I felt bad laughing since your eyes were red and glassy from the chilli, so I caught you around your shoulders and held you like a little kid just as the teacher took the one and only photo of us before we set off on the bus. We are trapped hugging forever on camera there, now, and I remember that was much better than a stiff smile like everyone else. I laughed and when you asked why I was shaking, I told you it was because I smelt some chilli from you and it made me feel weird.”
When I finish the story of that first photo, I’m let down. I imagined a scenario where Nate shifted his knee behind my ass, the other one splayed out, so I would be between his legs. But I didn’t expect it, which makes the letdown easier to forget.