The Ruby Riot Series: Box Set Part 53

"Glad to hear it," I mutter. "And I think I'd know if I had."

"True, a night with me will be unforgettable."

"Will be?"

He c.o.c.ks a brow. "Could be?"

I rummage around in a cupboard and pull out a box of painkillers. Nate watches as I take them. Is he waiting for an answer to his unsubtle hint? "A night with you? Dream on. Didn't I tell you the reason Ethan cheated on me?"

"Because you don't like s.e.x."

"I never said that!"

"You do like s.e.x?"

As the heat on my face grows, so does his smile.

Right.

Two can play this game.

"I do like s.e.x"-I lean closer to his face and whisper in my best s.e.xy voice, which probably isn't all too s.e.xy-"a lot. Do you want me to tell you my favourite position?"

"What?"

I pull back and give him a smirk to match the one he was giving me until a few moments ago. "Not that you'll ever find out. I don't have s.e.x with guys until they've told me they love me. End of."

Silenced. Ha. That's new.

I s.h.i.+ft closer to him again and reach out a finger to touch the metal skewered through his lip. "If you kiss somebody else who has one of these, do your mouths lock together?"

Nate doesn't respond to my touch, but his darkening eyes meet mine. "Have you ever kissed a guy with a piercing?"

"Why?"

"Want to try?"

Is this still a game or did we step in a different direction? I run a finger downwards from the piercing to his chin, the scruff rough against my fingertips. "Ha-ha. Very funny!"

Nate inhales and steps back.

OhmiG.o.d, did he just adjust his pants?

"Why's that funny?" he asks.

"Because it is." I aim for a light tone, but heat flares into my cheeks as my hoa.r.s.e voice betrays me.

The world s.h.i.+fts from its axis and I grip hold, dizzied by the realisation. No, not Nate; he can't be the man who tips my life sideways and into his arms. My attraction to him makes no sense, but I can't deny it.

Last night at the pub, even before I saw douchebag Ethan, I wanted Nate to be with us and, as my intoxication grew, so did my memories of our time together. The natural and easygoing meetings where we shared a laugh and chatted about everything and nothing, forging what we won't admit is more than a friends.h.i.+p. I told myself this desire last night was because the study group were together and Nate is part of that.

Now I know why. The indefinable and illogical intensity that hovers between us drags me toward him. His darkened eyes tell me he's a second away from taking that step. My mouth dries, heart stuttering as Nate trains his gaze on me, locking me into the moment I need to walk away from.

I side step Nate and flee to the lounge room. What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me? Less than twenty-four hours after rejection from one guy I'm prepared to throw myself at another to prove my self-worth? One who's guaranteed to cause more hurt than Ethan ever did.

"Totally ridiculous!" I say to myself as much as Nate as I walk away. "Plus, as you so eloquently put it, I smell like a brewery."

"I don't care. I like beer!" Nate calls after me.

12.

FLEUR.

After two days, Nate's pester power switches from flattering to irritating. I regret the day I gave this guy my phone number because I've had a few 'where are you taking me?' messages. When Nate said he wanted lunch with me the morning I found him in my house, I presumed he was teasing.

He's serious.

I'm not in many seminar groups with Nate, but the ones I am are early morning. I chose these so I could have my lessons out of the way leaving me more time for personal study. Nate usually looks half-dead at 9 a.m. and never attempts to hide his bored or glazed look either.

A couple of days after my drunken performance, we leave the cla.s.sroom and Nate catches me as I head out of the building.

"Fleur! I'm waiting for your answer!"

I stop. "You've woken up then? You had your eyes closed for half the cla.s.s."

He rubs an eye with the heel of his palm. "I can't do early. It kills me."

"Why sign up for this cla.s.s, then?"

"I didn't. I mean, I did but didn't. Messed up."

"Right." I shrug my bag higher up my shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

His eyes glint. "Lunch."

"You really mean this don't you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He clutches his chest. "Don't want to be seen in public with me?"

"I don't think that matters; from what I hear, you're never seen with the same girl twice."

Nate wrinkles his nose. "I've been seen with you more than once."

"Lucky me!"

"Yep. So, where are we going?"

"Sip."

Nate's eyes widen. "I can't go there!"

The trendy coffee shop is frequented by the more upmarket section of the student population, the ones who are more likely to be seen having intellectual conversations over the latest blends of coffee than tripping over there feet after too much alcohol. If Nate wants to spend time with me this much, he can go somewhere I'm comfortable.

"Why not?" I ask, feigning innocence.

He buries his hands in his pockets. "I'd be out of place."

"You're bothered about standing out?" I ask the semi-famous guy whose life is all about the spotlight.

"Nah, I don't like pretentious people who hang out in places like Sip."

"People like me?"

"What? You're not pretentious."

"That's my favourite place to hang out."

Nate brushes his hand along his scruff as he studies me in his strange way that lifts the hairs on my neck. "As it's you, I'll make an exception."

"You don't have to. I'm only telling you where I'm going, if you want the lunch I owe."

"I don't care what's for lunch. I want to spend time with you." As he strides away, I shake my head in case I misheard. This whatever we have becomes weirder every day.

The cafe buzzes with quiet conversation and we attract attention when we arrive. The smell of coffee pervades the room. They sell the beans too; and when I leave, the scent of coffee lingers on my clothes all day.

Even though Nate complains he wouldn't fit in, he strides past and makes loud comments about the 'pretentious s.h.i.+t' chalked on the blackboard menu. I hush him. I hadn't considered I could be the one struggling if Nate turns his obnoxious side on.

He sinks into one of the sofas positioned next to a low metal table and I sit in an upholstered chair next to him. Nate pats the leather. "Sit next to me."

"I'm fine here."

"Don't be shy! I've already been in your bed!" he says at a volume catching attention of a nearby group. A girl at the adjacent table fails to hide the surprise on her face.

"Nate!"

"What?"

"I'm not staying if you're going to deliberately embarra.s.s me."

"I'm not!" He makes a loud tsk noise then says "Women!" at a volume to elicit a whisper from the girl to her equally curious friend.

I stand and walk to the opposite end of the room.

"Where are you going?" he calls.

"The table is quieter in this corner," I reply at a volume to match his. "It's more intimate and I know how you like to be intimate with me!"

Nate's back is to the group close to the table and he bites the corner of his mouth, giving a small shake of his head. As he joins me, I arch an eyebrow.

Nate sits on the chair opposite and reaches across the table. I freeze as his hand curls around mine. "Intimate?"

I'm unprepared for the spark shooting along my arm, or the desire for Nate not to take his hand away. My stomach flips as the action jolts b.u.t.terflies into action. If we'd touched in the kitchen the other day, there's no way in h.e.l.l I would've resisted placing my mouth on his and seeing what would happen. No, he's teasing me. This is a joke.

"Keep behaving like this and I'll have your name linked to mine by the end of the day. Imagine how many cool points you'll lose for that."

"Doesn't bother me." His hand remains on mine.

"Nate Campbell and Fleur Roberts?" I say with a laugh.

"s.h.i.+t. Yeah. Didn't think about that." He removes his hand with a confused frown and my stomach sinks a little. So, he's basically telling me our names linked isn't okay?

Nate's joking stops as suddenly as it started, and we return to guarded conversation centring around study. "Next time, I choose where we go. Somewhere with a better menu." He points at my bowl. "I mean, what's that weird stuff?"

I poke at my meal. "Quinoa."

"What the h.e.l.l is kin...whatever?"

"It's a grain. Makes a great tasting salad."

Nate snorts. "Sure it does." He repeats the word under his breath. "Can't even p.r.o.nounce it."

"I thought you went to Europe?" I ask. "Didn't you try any local food? This isn't exactly exotic."

"I don't like salad." He pulls open his focaccia roll and peers at the contents. With a face of disgust worthy of a five year old, he pulls tomato and lettuce out of the sandwich and drops it on his plate. "And no, not really. Junk food is available the world over."

"Must've been interesting touring with Blue Phoenix."

"Dream come true. I'd say unforgettable, but some bits I have no memory of."

"I bet coming back here was a shock."

"Kinda." Nate removes his jacket and hangs it over the chair. I'm distracted by the curve of the muscle behind his greying t-s.h.i.+rt and s.h.i.+ft my look back to my bowl before he notices my over-interest. "Felt a bit on the edge of the whole Blue Phoenix train. Like, we were swallowed up by their hype and people came to see Ruby Riot as an afterthought."

"But you were support; of course that would happen."

"I guess what I mean is, I want to headline those places one day, and I'm impatient." Nate takes a huge bite out of his sandwich and says something else, but I can't hear him through his mouthful of food.

I drink my over-priced coffee as we lapse into silence. Not awkward but peaceful, like two old friends.

Nate licks sauce from his fingers and nods his head in my direction. "What about you, Fleur? What do you do when you're not being queen of history students?"