“Well, goodnight,” he says.
“Goodnight.” He pauses, looking into my eyes, and then begins to move forward. I lean in, and close my eyes. His lips touch mine and I frown slightly. I mean, there's nothing wrong with his lips or anything, but I thought I'd feel…more. He keeps his mouth chastely pressed against mine for a few seconds and then pulls back and smiles at me.
“Goodnight, Brynn,” he says again.
“Goodnight,” I reply, and turn to go inside. I shut the door behind me, and lean back against it, disappointed. Greg and I get along well, and he’s such a nice guy—I’d hoped I would eventually develop romantic feelings for him…but that kiss…was not so good. I sigh and continue through the foyer and into the kitchen.
“Hey,” Nate greets me.
I stop as a buzz runs through me at just the sight of him. That's the feeling I can't manufacture when I'm with Greg. “Hey. You go for a run?” I ask, taking in his sweaty appearance.
“Yeah, well, just on the treadmill. Too dark for a trail run. Did you…did you have a nice time tonight?”
I glance over at him. He gulps a long sip from a Gatorade bottle and then puts it down on the counter.
“Um, yeah, it was good,” I reply.
“I was just going to watch a movie in the den if you're interested.”
“Fine, but I choose tonight,” I reply with a smile. We've both committed to this whole being friends thing, though at times I feel like I'm going through the motions. I don't know if I'll ever be able to turn off the part of me that will always want more from him.
“No romantic comedies,” he says, as he walks to the door of the kitchen. “I'm just going to hop in the shower really fast.” The phone on the counter rings and he steps toward it, but it only rings once.
We both look toward Pierce's study as raised voices emanate from that direction. A moment later, we hear stomping coming our way and frown at each other in concern. Pierce storms in and walks to the fridge.
“Reporter?” Nate asks quietly.
“Your mother,” Pierce replies, equally quietly, though there's a hint of venom in his voice. My eyes flick over to Nate. I hope I haven't made the situation worse by taking her call that one time. He meets my gaze and shakes his head quickly as though to warn me not to say anything. “I don't know how she got this new number—it's unlisted. That bitch just won't give up.”
My mouth drops open at Pierce's language. I've never even heard him swear before, and it's so at odds with his genteel appearance that it sounds even more shocking coming out of his mouth.
“We're going to go watch a movie,” I murmur, wanting to get away from him when he's in this kind of mood. I can feel the waves of anger coming off of him. But Pierce swings around to face Nate, the Gatorade bottle in his hand.
“How many fucking times have I told you to clean up after yourself?” he growls, and I shrink back.
“I wasn't done drinking—” Nate begins.
“Don't interrupt me! You think the rest of the world is just here to serve you? That everyone else exists to make your cushy life a little easier? You've never had to work for anything in your life. It's pathetic,” Pierce spits at his son. I remain frozen on the other side of the counter, feeling like a coward, and not knowing what I should say.
I see color rise in Nate's cheeks, but all he says is, “Yes, sir.”
With that, Pierce slams the bottle back on the counter and walks back toward his office without even looking at me. Nate remains motionless for a moment, then walks over to the bottle, drinks the rest of it, and tosses it into the recycling.
“I'm sorry, you didn't deserve—” I start, feeling horrified by the scene I just witnessed.
“You still want to watch that movie?” Nate asks, tilting his head toward me but not making eye contact.
“Yes,” I whisper back, unsure of what else to do or say.
“OK, meet you in there in ten minutes,” Nate says simply and walks out. I wait until I can hear him walking up the stairs before I move. I've never heard a father talk to his son like that before, and our old neighborhood wasn't exactly full of model families. And the way Nate's shoulders slumped as Pierce was speaking to him, it was like he agreed with what his father was saying about him.
I walk up the stairs to my room and change into my sweats, before heading back downstairs to make some popcorn—food always makes me feel better. As soon as it's finished popping, I head into the den to wait for Nate. Should I tell my mom about what Pierce just did? Would she even listen? She seems to have drunk the Pierce Kool-Aid pretty heavily by this point. And now that Pierce has been the victim of false allegations, it will be even harder for her to believe anything bad about him. I glance up, frowning, as Nate walks in and sits down on the couch next to me.