Nate

What do I mean?

"I mean that sometimes life goes to total shit, and telling yourself it just wasn't right is sometimes the best way to deal with it."

"Spoken like a man with experience."

I let out a breath. "Too much." But I wonder about Brooke, too. Mom may get frustrated with me, but I've always known she was proud of what I do.

"Sorry, Nate."

I want to tell her I'm sorry about her parents too, but we're already digging into personal territory, and I'm just not... We're already friends. No need to push it too far. "Yeah, well, how else do you play the tortured artist, right?"

She touches the pocket with her phone, and I'm just about to give her crap when she pulls her hand away. "It helps to write stuff down. It's another reason I keep a list. I find it cathartic, even when I don't do anything with it."

Writing is doable, but I'm still not sure if it'll help.

I relax a little more as the sun starts to peek above the horizon. Brooke is easy to be around. I relax more and our legs touch. My smile is totally involuntary, and I glance at her leg and nearly run the back of my hand up her thigh before I freeze. This is Brooke. The annoying girl I work with, Brooke.

Wait. "Is that hair? Fur?" I ask, pointing to the waistband of her jeans. There's a small amount of orange hair resting by one of her belt loops.

"I have a cat."

"And does he like your phone as much as you do?" I tease.

Brooke wrinkles her nose. "He does rub against it often."

"And I'm sure that rubbing has nothing to do with him trying to capture your attention." Though, I'm sort of surprised that someone as organized as her has a pet. It makes me like her more.

Brooke laughs this happy, open laugh and I find myself watching her again. Her tank has ridden up by her hip enough that I catch skin, and I blink to the hood of the car so I don't start thinking about running my hand over her again.

"I need a nap before I start my day," I say, breaking the mood.

She holds out her arms. "Hoist me back in the car then, Mr. Macho Man."

I almost snort. She's so hilarious, especially when she only sort of means to be. "Thanks for the drive."

She's so compact that lifting her is easy, and I try not to register how good it feels to hold a woman in my arms. Brooke and I make zero sense, and even if we did, I'm definitely not the guy that fits into her plan.

***

It's noon and I'm just now rolling out of bed. Brooke has her date with Joshua, UNLV groomsmen, tomorrow and we're also leaving for Tahoe for the Heubert/Farone wedding event. I should be looking forward to the trip, but instead I'm sadly wishing I was sharing it with someone.

I open my email and decide it's time to write Viv a note. A real one. Brooke said I should write even if I did nothing with it, but that just seems like wasted time. This one is getting sent.

Viv -

I'm almost laughing now because I wonder if you'll bother reading any of this before hitting delete.

I hate what you did to us. I hate that your apologies never felt sincere. I hate that I lost my girlfriend and my best friend (yes, both you) and that douche, Shane. I'm mostly kidding about Shane. I just don't... I don't know what I want. I do know that I want you to start a phone conversation without yelling. Part of me wants to forget you and part of me wants us to be able to be civil. We have history. I just... I don't know what I'm saying.

Nate

I hit send before giving it too much thought because I'd chicken out. It was a mess anyway, but it's not like she doesn't know I'm a mess. It's that I finally felt okay to write her and that's something. People who were friends as long as we were should be able to find a way back to that. Or maybe I'm still too hurt and pissed to be attempting this right now.