Because You're Different ✔

22. Secret

June

I was sitting on the couch, pretending to read a book, when in reality, I was waiting for Nathan to either come home or not. It was dark out; I was probably illuminated like a mannequin in a shop window, but I wanted to be able to see him coming (or not), so I couldn't bring myself to close the curtains. Sam was staying over at the place of some boy from our year, probably instastalking Jennifer together, or fulfilling dangerous dares, or whatever boys did when they were together. I suppose it would've made more sense for me to have gone to my parents' house. I didn't have much of that left in my life, though, sense.

Today was the day the judges were going to make a decision about the girl, if she would be allowed to stay, or needed to go back to Mexico. This morning, I'd seen the answer written in Nathan's eyes. Charlotte had been fussing all over him, straightening his tie and flattening his hair, and whatever. It seriously annoyed me when she touched him, but I was slowly getting used to it. I'd intentionally hugged him very tight, causing his shirt to crease again. I saw her purse her lips at the sight. Luckily, she didn't try to fix it again.

She left with him, to my relief, and she wasn't coming back for a while due to her exams. The only question was, after the court had announced their decision, would he be driving home or to her?

I shuffled a bit to the right to be at a better angle with the windows. Something nervous was tickling the inside of my stomach, and I pulled my shirt a little lower, as if it would help. I was wearing one of my new skinny jeans, the ripped light blue ones, combined with a simple, long-sleeved, black off-shoulder top. My hair was down, a rarity. Somehow, I thought if I'd look pretty, he'd earlier return to me than to her. Pathetic. Still, I couldn't shake the idea off.

My new wardrobe had had a few consequences, nothing of them as big as that I felt more confident than ever. The other one was that Jennifer had now started to call me 'wannabe slut' instead of 'thrift shop princess', a weird insult I didn't get at all. Wannabe slut was a lot more creative than 'chile shitter spaz', which was how Matt Granton continued to refer to me, and I was kind of starting to get used it. Would I ever be a real slut? No idea. It would be nice and concise for Jennifer to shout, I guess. The last and most messed up consequence of having new clothes was, however, that I hid them from my mom and dad.

They could never know. They worked their ass off for me, and here I was, being gifted first-hand bags of clothes by a girl I barely knew. It meant sometimes having to change in the school's bathroom stalls, it meant always needing to be aware of when I would see them. It was absurd. By now, there seemed to be nothing normal left in my life.

I startled as headlights flashed by the house, and I heard tires coming up the driveway. Nathan. He was here!

Quickly, I pretended to be reading again, heart beating loudly in my chest. What should I do when he walked in? Say something? Hug him? Offer him food? Wine? Whiskey?

Seconds passed by, my body tense, listening for footsteps.

They never came.

After ten minutes, I decided I had to go see what was wrong. I left the house, on my socks, surprised by the brisk wind greeting me.

Nathan was sitting in the car, in the dark, staring right ahead.

I sighed, opening the door on the passenger's side and climbing in. He turned to me, face completely white from exhaustion.

"Hi," I said softly. "It went bad, I think?"

He didn't say anything, just nodded. Poor girl. Poor him. He'd tried so hard not to let her down... The law had been against them from the start. There was nothing he could've done. Without hesitation, I leaned towards him, wrapping my arms around him. Hugs were always useful. For me too. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his hands on my back. He smelled way too nice, and I could've stayed that way forever.