The Deathless Trilogy

1.13. Apologies

"Hey," Nate whispers, as if it's totally normal to show up at someone's door in the middle of the night.

"Uh, hey," I say, and poke my head out of the doorway to see if anyone else is there. We're alone, and that sets my nerves on edge, especially after I was so playful with him today. Either he thinks I'm vulnerable now, or he thinks I'm interested. However he sees it can't be good. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry it's so late. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I was up. I can't fall asleep. Do you need something?"

"Actually, if you're up for it, I wanted to show you something," he says, holding out his hand.

"In the middle of the night? Can't it wait 'til morning?"

"Uh...." He looks down the hall and chuckles to himself. "Not really."

Now I'm really nervous. Why is he laughing? I never know what to expect with this boy. Does he mask his sincerity with arrogance or is he just an exceptional liar? Are we becoming friends or are we sizing each other up? I have no idea. All I can think now is thank goodness he taught me how to beat him up today.

"Okay... Let me just grab a sweater or something," I say, uncomfortable going anywhere in my thin Deathless pajama shirt. I wish I still had my slingshot with me, just in case Nathan is trying to get rid of the competition once and for all, and for a moment, I think about just slamming the door in his face. But I want to believe he's better than that. He's trying to prove something, it's different from what Declan and I are trying to prove, but Nathan is still struggling. The sympathetic side of me overcomes the aggressive side, and I put on a sweatshirt and join him in the hall. "Where to?" I ask.

He takes my hand, and pulls me into a jog down the corridor. Maybe it's because we are running or because we're holding hands at a weird angle, but my hand is uncomfortable in his, like they don't fit. Not like mine and Daniel's did, so I pretend I have to put my hair up so I can wiggle my hand free. As he runs ahead of me, I catch a glimpse of a scar behind his ear, either a birthmark or a mark from injury.

Nathan pushes open the door, and gestures for me to head out first. Now I really wish I had my slingshot. What are we doing?

When I walk onto the patio, I see there are lights on the floor: Candles set in tall holders that block their flames from the wind. He shuts the door behind us and sits down on a blanket over the concrete. He pats the fabric beside him, gesturing me to sit down too, and my stomach twists with more nerves than it had when I thought he might try to hurt me. Now it's clear how he read my playfulness today: He thinks I'm interested.

"What is all this?" I ask, sitting across from him on the blanket.

"A proper apology."

Chocolates wrapped in silver tinfoil cover the blanket. I pick one up and hold it between my fingers. "This seems awfully romantic for an apology"

"It's supposed to," he says timidly. I haven't yet known him to be shy, but then again, I haven't yet learned much about him at all.

I smile and feel my cheeks redden, but I'm almost certain it's from embarrassment, not flattery. "This is very thoughtful, Nathan, but—"

"—Nate."

"Okay, Nate. Listen, the person on the transmission was my... well, I don't know... my boyfriend, my fiancé, I don't know what to call him, we never talked about it. I can't have romantic apologies with you. I appreciate your gesture, but I'm not interested. I'm sorry, I should really go."