Promise Me This(16)

And when he’d admitted that not one trace of a tattoo peppered his skin, I couldn’t help wondering what a body like that looked like in the flesh.

What was one to do with such a blank canvas? I might want to do something drastic, like mar him with my teeth. That thought made a bubble of laughter spring up inside my chest, because I was being absolutely ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?” Nate asked, his fingers tapping a beat against his thigh. In fact, his knee had been jiggling away practically the whole time we’d been in the car.

“Nothing,” I said trying to contain my ridiculousness. “Overactive imagination.”

I studied him out of the corner of my eye, my hands fisting the steering wheel.

“I have that affliction as well,” he said, running his hand across his mouth. I could feel him staring hard at my profile, specifically my mouth, which now felt dry.

When my tongue darted out to lick my lips, he inhaled sharply through his nose, and I considered asking him about those kissing rumors. Because right now I wanted to pull off to the side of the road and show him exactly how I liked to use my tongue.

Maybe this was the appeal that he had with all of those girls—and now I was becoming one of them. As the air became thick in our enclosed space, I realized I had somehow convinced myself that Nate had a wild side that involved handcuffs and who knew what else. The question was: why would I want to be the one to bring it out of him?

It wasn’t like we had a future. But hell, that’s never stopped me before. I wasn’t shy about getting to know someone if I was curious about them. The worst that could happen was that I’d have to eventually kick him to the curb. But given that Nate and I shared the same friends, it might prove to be awkward later. And what of our friendship now? Didn’t I enjoy our easy and casual banter? Why would I jeopardize that?

A change of thought process would be a wise decision right about now. “So Square, how do you know so much about Bridgeway?”

“I actually grew up there,” he said, after clearing his throat. “And then later, we moved to the city.”

“That makes perfect sense.” I nodded. “I just figured you studied about it in one of your classes. Or maybe had a fascination with it or something.”

“Nope,” he said, and then hummed along to Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” his foot crossed over his ankle.

“So where did you live?”

“In the rural part,” he said, and I could almost picture it. “Decent-size house with a wraparound porch and a huge yard.”

When I didn’t say anything, because I was trying to picture a younger Nate living in a house like that, he continued.

“It’s a quieter town. The steel mill that drove the city’s income shut down, so a lot of townsfolk lost their jobs.”

The way he described it made it sound like a completely different way of life, as if from a different era.

“So you’re a country boy at heart?” I grinned. “I thought I heard a twang in your voice.”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk. “Is that a bad thing? You know what they say about country boys and all of their large equipment.”

I snorted a laugh. “That they’re very acquainted with the farm animals?”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “You’ve really got to get out more if that’s what you think.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, still smiling. “I’ve always been a city girl.”

He looked me over appraisingly from the top of my head down to my bright purple Converse kicks, while my pulse skittered in my veins. “Not sure I could ever picture you growing up in town like that.”

“The blue hair wouldn’t go over well?” I said, swallowing thickly. Not sure why his scrutiny was sending my stomach into a free-fall.

“Nah, it’s that damn sneaker collection,” he said, grinning. I had an assortment of colorful ones, some I’d even asked the guys at the shop to doodle on, freehand. My favorite was a limited edition Blondie pair—she was my favorite icon.

“Oh, you’re right,” I deadpanned. “I might get run out of town because of those.”

We drove a couple more miles in silence before I said, “Do you miss living in Bridgeway?”

As he thought about it, I saw a flash of pain in his eyes. There was definitely a story there.

“Not really,” he said in a quiet voice. “Small town living is different.”

“Tell me how.”

“You definitely have more space to move around in, less people,” he said, his knee rattling a mile a minute again. “The downside is, more people know your business.”