No commitment.
No more heartaches.
Just kissing.
Could it really be that simple?
Nate Herond. He's the guy everyone adores. Quarterback of the football team, a joker that ain't miss a chance to fool around, a trutly hearttrob every girl fall for, a...
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Song: Don't let me down - Chainsmokers ft Daya
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Nate
I shifted my weight nervously as I stood in the front door of my smelly flat. Two whole weeks. I've never been gone for this long. My palms were sweaty and I wiped them on my pants, but still it didn't calm my ragging pulse.
It's okay, I told myself. I can do this.
In all honesty, I rather had delayed this another day or two, but the smarthphone in my pocket weighted a tone with my uncle's text this morning.
LEO: Hey Nate! How's everything? I hope you're doing well :) Is something wrong with your mother's phone? She's not answering me and I'm getting a little worried
I still hadn't answered him. How could I? I hadn't talked to her since the fight and for the last couple days she hadn't even tried to call me again. I had assumed it was just that she was giving me time -or simply that she got tired of trying, but knowing uncle Leo hadn't been able to reach her unleashed a whole new emotion within me. What if something had happened?
I had this pressure in my chest ever since I'd read his words. I couldn't even focus on classes, much less football. So I skipped football. I fucking skipped football for the first time in the longest while -if I'd ever actually had. And with this first match only a day away... coach won't be happy about it, but right now my mind was buzzing with other worries.
Fuck this.
I took in one last stupid shaky breath and finally fished for the keys in my pocket, disgusted with myself at the tremble of my fingers.
I'm a wreck. I'm a fucking wimp that can't even walked into his home.
Stop it. I got this.
I pushed the door open, holding my breath as my ears sharpened, vigilant to any shift in the air but the flat remained dusty and silent. I sniffed the air, not catching the stench that asshole seemed to emanate; like sweat and alcohol. It was early after all. Maybe he was at the bar or at some of his 'friends' places. Good.
I felt my chest untightening a bit, but I still tiptoed inside, not fully relaxing until I was sure. All the lights were turned off. As I passed the kitchen I catch the sight of the dishes piled on the sink, next to a couple beer cans dropped however and my anger spike. He literally didn't work. Would it be that hard for him to contribute in the home's chores?
"Harry?" my heart dipped at the groggy voice, snapping my attention to their room's door, which was ajar. I gingerly close the gap, feeling somehow that pressure returning at the realizations I would be seeing her after this long. How would she react?
