Breakthrough

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After destroying our lunch on the grill, Nate and I ended up ordering out for an early dinner. After devouring the entire pepperoni and cheese pizza, Nate remained in the living room, returning a few phone calls he had ignored throughout the day while I took a shower. When I joined him a little bit later, he sat by the newly-lit fire he had just made as he held the borrowed guitar from Mr. Whethers in his hands.

"Are you going to play me something?" I asked with a grin as I began to sit down next to him while giving him an impromptu kiss on the lips.

"What was that for?" he asked happily.

"Giving you an incentive to play," I said, pointing to the guitar.

He looked down at the instrument in his hands and then back at me.

"Oh, then I should've been the one kissing you. You're going to play something for me," he said mysteriously as he handed me the guitar.

"I told you I don't have anything solid to share right now," I replied, slightly defensive and caught off guard.

"Then play our song," he said, surprising me just a bit.

"Why would I do that? The last time, didn't go so well," referring to the debut at the high school.

"We've heard it on the radio a bunch of times, I can take it."

"In person is different, it's not the same thing," I said, shaking my head hoping he would just drop the suggestion.

I wasn't that lucky. We settled the matter, like we did when we were kids. A good-old round of rock, paper, scissors. As I revealed my paper to his scissors, I immediately knew he defeated me and I'd lost.

Reluctantly, I found myself placing the guitar in my hands, not really knowing how the performance would play out. In the beginning of the song, my voice sounded a little pitchy from being under pressure. As I played the melody, I closed my eyes and fell into a rhythm.

When I sang the last lyric, "Honestly, Tell Me The Truth," and strummed the last chord, I finally opened my eyes and glanced over at him. We stared at one another, both not knowing what the other was thinking, a common theme during our reunion that never seemed to be a problem when we were simply best friends.

"What made you write that song?" he asked sincerely, breaking the silence.

"You know why?"

"Well, tell me again," he said assertively.

I took another second to really think about his question.

"I mean, I guess the short answer was anger. I was upset with you for leaving me, and when my mom passed away, I was angry you weren't there."

"So...aren't you angry again?" he asked.

"At you?" I said, totally and utterly confused.

"No, at the people who are assuming the worst about you. The ones who call you awful names all over social media. Don't you have something to say to them?" he asked with passion in his voice.

"Yeah, I do, but I don't know..."

My voice trailed off.

"You were willing to hurt me, but you don't want to hurt the haters out there that don't even know you?"

I had no answer to Nate's question.

Over the course of the weekend where we spent most of the time just being Nate and Nick, l tried to find the answer. I still came up with nothing.

I woke up that Monday morning to Nate softly nibbling at my ear. As I opened my eyes, he slid his hand under my tank top and started to slowly caress my stomach. I couldn't help but enjoy the, "wakeup call."  After taking turns exploring one another's body, Nate sadly left me alone in bed while he showered for school.

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