In Waves | ✔️

40 | lines

My nonna has a firm belief that what you cook absorbs your emotion. If you make a ragù when you're happy, that's going to be the most delicious, joyful ragù in the world. If you make sweet chocolate mousse when you're angry, it's going to turn out bitter.

I think my apple pie suffered from this, because it's the most bland and tasteless thing I've ever baked.

But Rob and Blake and Ollie take their slices and rave about it, and Derek comes back for seconds, so maybe it's in my head. Maybe my tastebuds are shot. Maybe they were just being nice. Either way, I place a slice in a restaurant pastry box we have stockpiled in the garage, and I walk over to Nate's house at sunset.

Rob's words have been weighing on me all afternoon, and I don't want them weighing on Nate. It's not even true. Rob's just looking into something that isn't there. Twisting a harmless friendship into something deeper.

Ten minutes later, I'm standing on Nate's doorstep. I'm only realizing now that any one of his family members could open the door and question my arbitrary apple pie delivery, but after three rings I figure no one's home.

Just as I turn, the door flings open and Nate's bright eyes meet mine.

"Lia," he says in surprise. He's smoothing down his shirt, hair messier than usual. I think I might have woken him from a nap. He steps out, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing here?"

I pass him the box. "You said it was one of your favorites, so I saved you a piece. I don't think it came out that great, but yeah, here it is."

He opens the lid, his mouth curving. "Thanks. Bet it tastes pretty good without my blood in it, though. Didn't lose a finger in there, did you?"

I laugh, holding up my hands and giving my fingers a wiggle. "Nope, because I'm careful. Blood-free, finger-free. Just plain old apple and cinnamon."

"Good thing you stopped me from helping, then."

My nose wrinkles. "I'll have you know that I'm only a control freak in the kitchen."

"Keep telling yourself that, DeMarco."

I shake my head, smile dimming. "You didn't have to leave earlier. Whatever Rob said, ignore it, okay? He shouldn't have chased you away."

"He didn't." Nate scratches the back of his neck. "I mean, he's kind of right, Lia." I feel my eyebrows draw together, and I'm wondering if Rob said the same things he did to Nate as he did to me. "Maybe we're getting too close to a line we can't cross," he says quietly.

"A line? I don't think there's..." I trail off, watching his lips press. Challenging my denial with one look that gets my palms itching. "What, so does that mean you don't want to be friends anymore?"

"No. I'd never want that." His shoulders straighten. "With the way we started, at the party, maybe we're always going to be close to that line. Maybe we just have to... proceed with caution, you know?"

The itch lessens, the thickness in my throat thinning. "I guess we can do that. I just don't want things to be weird with us."

"They aren't."

"And I don't want them to be weird with you and Rob."

"They're not," he says, smiling softly. "It's all good, Lia. Don't worry."

I return the smile, the weight I've felt all afternoon lifting. I like that my name interchanges in his vocabulary for the context of what we say. First name, he's serious and soft and sincere. Last name, he's light and playful and fun. Both glide off his tongue like butter.

My gaze skips behind him when the door suddenly opens.

"You're taking forever. Did you change your Netflix password?" Alex looks up from the iPad she's holding. "Oh. Lia."

My mouth fills with cotton balls that roll down my throat in a stack. She's wearing one of his shirts, and only one of his shirts. A baggy Gorillaz band tee I've seen him wear a million times. And I think she's asking me why I'm here, and I think the only word I manage to get out is "pie".

Nate taps his fingers on the box, answering evenly, "Apple pie, that she baked. I left before I could have any."

Alex props her arm on his shoulder, leaning into him like she's going to whisper, but it comes out loud enough for me to hear, "Not like I didn't give you your fill."

My naïve little brain takes a few seconds for that to click, and heat radiates from the base of my neck as soon as it does.

A smirk plays on her lips as she eyes me. Nate tenderly moves her arm off, muttering to her under his breath. She spins around, bare feet crossing over the threshold, golden hair shining in the light of the sinking sun.

The door shuts and I look at Nate, and I want to smack him and shake him and ask him what the hell he's doing. And he looks like he knows that's what I want to do. Like there's a trace of guiltiness running behind his eyes.

"So you and Alex..."

"We're just hanging out."

"Cool, well, I didn't know you were busy, so I'll just let you get back to... hanging out."

I walk down his driveway without looking back, keeping my pace normal until I'm out of sight. And then I'm speeding, shoving the two of them from my mind, the cotton in my throat drenched in all the things I didn't say.

〰️〰️〰️

Just before noon on Saturday, Matt picks me up from home and we start our mini road trip to the butterfly sanctuary I've been dying to go to.

It's as good a time as any. I'm not needed in the restaurant, Rachel's with Harris, I've done most of my homework, and I've been sticking to weekdays for surf lessons. Not that Nate would be free for one, anyway. I'm sure he's wrapped up with Alex. Literally.

I roll my eyes to myself as we drive along the highway. Everything is hazy and gray. The cloudy sky, the ocean, the falling leaves. I'd normally be elated about the possibility of it raining later, but even that isn't lifting my spirits when I think about her in his shirt.

A girl can cut out a boy's heart and stomp it into the dirt, but I guess if sex is involved then boys don't really care about much else. And maybe that's why - because their hearts can't be put back in place the way they used to be. They're tainted and cracked. Jaded enough to numb out the emotion that made them susceptible in the first place.

But how long can that last for until the pain seeps through the cracks? How long until she hurts him again?

Matt squeezes my knee. "So quiet, babe. Everything okay?"

He's been testing out babes and babys lately, and I have to say, I'm not hating it.

"Yeah." I push down the burning heaviness in my chest, taking hold of his hand. "Everything's great."

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a/n: it's okay, you can like nate and still think that he's a dummy for going back to alex! even I think so and I wrote that for him lol

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