Willa & the Extraordinary Internship

CH. 21

Nate's apartment was homey, in that well-loved, lived-in way that small apartments usually have. The walls were white and where most people would have hung paintings, he had large whiteboards pinned up with notes meticulously spanning edge to edge.

"Come on in," he said, holding the door open for her and gesturing for her to precede him.

"I'm in the inner sanctum," Willa said solemnly, the first words she had spoken since fleeing her former-office in shame. She followed him into his living room, eyes staring hungrily at his home. He hadn't decorated so much as mish-mashed random objet d'art into a peculiar harmony; he had three bookcases of varying heights lining one wall, chockablock with books and a precariously leaning tower of board games; an antique roll-top desk with a Macbook Air and a spiral-bound notebook covered in Post-Its; pillows with motivational sayings squashed into the corners of his sofa and an equally squashed-looking white Himalayan cat staring at her balefully from his place on the armrest; and a ratty globe with North and South America peeling off as the centerpiece of his dining room table.

"Want some tea?" he offered as he scratched his pet behind the ears. "Or coffee?"

Would it be too presumptuous to ask if he had anything stronger? Willa felt like she needed something a bit stiffer than tea, but Nate was already moving toward the kitchen. "I'll have whatever you're having," she said, wondering whether she'd score any points with him if she were to pet the animal who was currently fixing her with a challenging stare.

"Lemon honey tea okay?" he called from the kitchen, pulling a copper kettle from the stovetop and filling it with water.

"Sounds perfect," Willa lied, inching over to the cat. It meowed loudly at her, its eyes following her movement as her hand reached out hesitantly to mimic the ear-scratching gesture she'd seen Nate do earlier.

"Make yourself at home," Nate added, as though he could still see her. "Just be careful where you sit. Humphrey's pretty territorial about that couch. If you sit on it, he'll get right into your lap and assume you're his person too."

"Humphrey?" Willa was bemused.

Nate's head popped out the kitchen door, flashing her a rueful grin. "My dad was a big fan of Casablanca," he informed her. At her blank look, he feigned shock. "You've never seen Casablanca? Humphrey Bogart? Ingrid Bergman? It's a classic!"

"Not a big fan of old-time movies," Willa said with a little laugh. "The overacting gets on my nerves."

"Oh ye of little culture," Nate joked, emerging with two mugs. Willa reached out for one, but he put them both down on the dining table and gave her an odd look. "The water's still heating." He picked up the white string of the teabag in his cup and dangled it between his long fingers. "Just put the teabags in so they're ready to steep when the water's hot enough."

"I usually just microwave," she admitted.

"Then you'll be in for a treat," he grinned back. Then the grin faded and he looked intently at Willa, his eyes just a little too probing. "What did Paige mean?"

She wanted to pretend ignorance, but she knew exactly what he was referring to. "I asked her to look over my manuscript for me." Willa gave him a weary smile. "That was before you told me she'd stolen yours."

"Why did she say your work was a homage to someone else?" he asked, picking his words carefully.

Willa's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Guilty conscience, maybe," she said in a curt voice, hoping her tone indicated that that was the end of the matter.

"Right," Nate said, clearly not getting the hint, "But what was your story about?"

How could she explain without mentioning Cyn? How could her book stand alone and not always be in Cyn and Maryam's disappointing shadow? Involuntarily, her fingers clenched into fists, hard enough for her inky-black nails to leave half-moon crescents on her palm. There was no way she was going to expose the entire sordid story for Nate to hear.

He was still looking at her expectantly, face openly curious but now beginning to waver slightly into something a little more suspicious. Nate wanted her to say something, Willa realized. He wants me to categorically deny it so we can laugh it off and chalk it up to Paige being nasty.

The moment lingered between them, neither of them looking away. It was delicate and new, the kind of stare a boy gave a girl who he wanted to make into a comet. Like she was streaking above him and he wanted to pull her closer to Earth and stop her destructive path. It was an inane, fanciful sort of thought, but at the moment it popped into her head, she thought yes, that's what this is, exactly.

Willa hesitated. She was on the precipice of something good with this boy. Not telling him wouldn't be wrong, per say, but it would mean sharing him with them. It would mean giving him the context about her friendship with Cyn and Maryam and hoping he would understand. That was a lot to pin on a boy who looked at her like she was a comet.

Desire flooded through her, but not the ardent type of desire she'd felt with him in Paige's office. It was the kind of desire that was telling her to keep Nate to herself, all for her, and keep him separate from her friends. She'd let him overlap with her work life, after all, and look what had happened. Willa Grainger, the Luke-proclaimed deadbeat loser, was now Willa Grainger, thieving, jobless incompetent. Wouldn't her mother just love that.

The whistle began its steady shriek and the moment ended, Nate breaking eye contact to glance in the direction of the whistle. "Better get that."

Willa sank onto the couch. It was as lived-in as it looked. Instead of firm support cushioning her backside, she felt herself sink into the lumpy green upholstery of the couch, springs jumping up to uncomfortably poke her. She watched him leave, wondering if she had just missed her opportunity to tell him the truth. It wasn't a lie or a half-truth, but it didn't sit right with her to keep it to herself.

But what if he didn't understand? What if he had never been in a group of three where he was the only one who didn't belong? If he had never had a friend like Cyn, would he take Willa's side? Or worse, in the face of what Paige had done to him, would he think Willa had done the same thing to Cyn? Would this be the Unforgivable Big Deal that would cause him to cut her out the same way Cyn had done to her?

And Willa still maintained that she hadn't consciously taken anything from Cyn. Sure, Cyn had provided a bit of inspiration, but wasn't all writing inspired by someone, somewhere, something? It was impossible to say that any author was able to write without their cumulative life experiences affecting their work in some way. She was just so sick and tired of defending herself against people who were determined to villainize her - she couldn't let the boy who looked at her with stars in his eyes to see that she was no comet, after all.

Meow! Humphrey ambled over and walked directly onto Willa's lap, tail swishing like in a thick fringe of white fur. Just like Nate had predicted, he plopped himself down in an ungainly flop, sprawling over her legs like Willa was part of the couch.

Her fingers buried themselves in the silky-softness of his fur and lightly caressed Humphrey, earning her another leisurely meow of pleasure. What was so great about comets, anyway, she wondered. They were only giant balls of gas and dust.

Author's Note: Did Willa make a mistake not telling Nate? More importantly, what do you guys think Nate would have done if she had told him? Don't forget to comment/vote if you enjoyed this chapter!