Promise Me This(13)

Me: Give it time, Square. See you this weekend!

I sat there grinning at my screen, forgetting that I needed to get my butt moving.

“So, what’d he say?” Emmy asked, coming around the counter and startling me from my thoughts.

“He’ll do it,” I said, almost reluctantly, wondering what in the hell I was getting myself into.





Chapter Six


Nate



I pushed the button on my expensive coffee machine. If Jessie could see me now, she’d definitely think that I was living up to my nickname.

I put her no-frills straight medium roast arabica coffee in a sleek to-go tumbler and then made my cappuccino drink. She’d probably rag on me for that one, too.

Rinsing out a couple of cups in the sink, I made a mental note to clean the apartment later. Housing was tight around campus but I finally found myself a decent place. I liked living on my own, and I obviously could afford it, but I was thankful for what I had. I knew that Jessie rented a basement unit from one of her mother’s friends.

I understood she lived off of a strict budget and could only afford a couple of classes at a time, but that was only from piecemeal conversations I had gathered over the past few months.

As I secured the top on the travel mug¸ I thought about how glad I was this wasn’t a weekend my cousin Kai was coming up to see his girlfriend Rachel, because we usually hung out for a bit. My extended family knew my father was somewhat of a prick but I wasn’t sure if they knew the extent of his bullshit. We hid it well and Kai never asked any questions.

I’ve had fantasies of one day confronting my father, college tuition be damned.

I wanted to knock the motherfucker out. But again, it was that fantasy of losing control that really ate away at me and scared the living shit out of me.

I heard a knock and was surprised that Jessie had entered my building. I figured she’d just honk for me to come out. I cursed at myself for not straightening up better.

I swung open the door and she breezed right on in. “Sorry, figured you’d let me use the bathroom before we got on the road. You know us chicks and having to pee.”

It was a halfhearted dig about the other night at the bar and her eyes flashed at me, her lips quirked up in mischief.

I held her gaze for too long before I said, “Hallway. First door on the right.”

After she traipsed off in her worn and ripped jeans, I imagine following her into my bathroom and pushing her up against the counter, taking her from behind. I scrubbed my hands over my face trying to shake those kinds of thoughts from my head.

I needed to knock it off already—we were just friends. She’d never go for my bullshit; in fact, she’d probably call me on it right away.

But she’d admitted to being handcuffed at the bar. Maybe it’d been a terrible experience for her. Maybe she kicked the guy out straight after.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, she wiped her hands down the front of her tight T-shirt and her face was flushed. What the hell? Had she been having the same thought?

Yeah, right. Snap the hell out of it.

She looked around the apartment, taking in my black leather couches and marble tables. I wanted to tell her I got them used but I kept my mouth sealed shut. Might as well play the part of the privileged college boy since that’s what she already thought of me.

“Nice digs, Square. Thought you’d be less messy though,” she said, eyeing my pile of clothing in the corner, sans laundry basket.

“Had I known you’d come bursting through the door, I might have picked up after myself a little better.”

She grinned. “When a girl’s gotta pee, she’s gotta pee.”

I tried not to follow that up with a retort, but I had to admit it felt comfortable having her in my apartment. Maybe I should invite her over to watch a movie sometime. But we weren’t that type of friends, were we?

“Ready to hit the road?” I strolled to the kitchen island and lifted her travel mug. “I made you a tall arabica roast.”

She grasped it from my fingers, her gaze sweeping past my fancy coffee machine on the counter, but keeping her lips sealed. “Thanks a bunch.”

I followed her out the door to her used red Dodge Dakota truck. The fact that this girl drove this kind of car made me grin. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks. It was my dad’s and after he . . .” she paused, her eyes clouding over before quickly clearing. “Died, I took it over. Saves me a car payment. And walking everywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad.” I said stepping into the truck. “Um, how long ago?”

“About three years ago now,” she said, gripping the steering wheel.

I couldn’t help thinking that I wished it had been my dad and not hers—seemed like she really missed her father, probably even had a decent relationship with him. Didn’t seem fair. That what was so shitty about life. It made no fucking sense.