reticent

47

• AMALIA •

James and Jess leave after an hour. I'm not sure where they go.

     Nathan glances at me. "What's up with you?" He asks.

     "My arm hurts." I mumble.

     "It's just a little burn." He tells me.

     "You put a cigarette out on me!" I exclaim.

     He arches an eyebrow. "Watch your fucking mouth. At least it's in a place where you can hide it. No one's wearing short sleeves in winter."

     His face softens at my expression. "You're fine." He assures me, taking my arm with a surprising gentleness before running his fingers over the burn marks, which haven't blistered. He leans over and presses his lips against mine in a kiss, and I make myself kiss him back as though I want to.

His hands run up my waist and he pulls me onto his lap, making me straddle him. He holds me flush to his chest, and I've never felt more disgusting in my life.

•

I pull the new set of clothes on. Nathan's been extra generous after what we did in the living room. It went too far, and before I knew it my clothes were being pulled off and I was having flashbacks to what Frankie did to me in the back of his car as Nathan did the exact same thing.

     He walks into the bedroom when I'm changed again. These clothes are much warmer than the tank top and shorts he had given me to wear before. He got me another hoodie, too.

     He smiles at me as he gets into the bed. I climb in beside him, and he tucks me under his arm again.

     "You wanna watch TV?" He asks me.

     "I wanna do whatever you wanna do." I reply.

     His smile widens as he turns the TV on.

• TWO WEEKS LATER •

I'm washing Nathan's clothes, because apparently he thinks I'm his mother.

     I pause when I feel something heavy in his pocket. I make sure the door is shut before grabbing his phone out.

     I almost collapse to the floor in relief. I turn it on, and within a moment I'm typing my dads number in.

     I'm pressing the call button when the door opens. Nathan walks in, and his eyebrows raise in surprise.

     I bring the phone down from my ear just as I see that the call has been answered.

     "What are you doing?" He asks me.

     "Nathan, I—"

     He walks forward and grabs the phone off of me. He speaks into it. "Sorry, she dialled the wrong number."

     He ends it, and all hope leaves me.

     "Who was that?" He questions.

     "M-my dad." I whisper.

     His anger flares. Within a moment I'm pushed up against the wall. "Why the fuck are you calling him?"

     "I want him to know that I'm okay." I say. "I don't want him to be worried. If I tell him I'm fine that it'll mean he'll stop looking."