“Nate?”
“Hmm,” he says, his voice soft, groggy.
I count the beats of his heart beneath my cheek, which has slowed significantly. “Was your first time with someone special?”
Warm fingers trail over my hair, and he runs a few strands through his fingers. “Not really, why?”
“You said something about that the first time we had sex.”
“Yeah, I remember. I didn’t want to be your first guy, Kira. I…you deserve to give something as precious as your virginity to someone way more special than me.”
I bite my tongue, stop myself from telling him he is special. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, or think I want more.
“Has there ever been anyone special in your life?” I ask.
“Not really. The girls I know… I don’t know. They’re not really interested in me. They like what they see and what’s in my pocket, but they’re pretty superficial, and nothing more can grow from that.” I’m about to ask him what kind of girls he’s been with when he turns the conversation to me. “You?”
“No.”
His hand leaves my hair, trails down my bare arm, and goose bumps form in the wake. “That surprises me.”
“The men from my world… Well, they’re different.”
“Different how?”
“Most see me as a lab coat, not a woman,” I admit honestly. “You know, when I first arrived here, I actually said to myself that I wish a man would want me for my body and not my brains.”
“I want your body, and your brain is a refreshing change.”
I turn, place my palm on his heart, and meet his glance. “How so?”
“I like talking with you. I like what you have to say.”
My heart wobbles a little. “That means a lot to me.” Probably more than he could ever know. “I like talking to you, too.”
“Of course, there are other things I like doing with you.”
I laugh, and when it dies down, I ask, “Have you been with a lot of women?”
“Yes,” he says honestly. “You?”
“I haven’t been with any women.”
“Smart-ass.”
“I’ve only been with one guy.”
He stares up at the ceiling, goes quiet for a very long time, then breaks it with, “Tell me about these men in your world.”
“I go on dates.” I pause. “When I remember.”
“When you remember?”
I give him a sheepish look. “I’ve forgotten a time or two.”
“No surprise there,” he jokes.
“Hey.” I whack his chest, and he takes my hand in his, brings it to his lips for a kiss.
“Keep talking.”
“When I was younger, and guys paid me attention or invited me over, it was usually to do their homework or help them with a problem they were having. That never really changed as I grew up.”
“Fuckers.” That one word shows his concern, and it warms me.
“I guess I’m used to guys using me for one thing or other.” He arches a brow. “I’m not talking about you.” I wave my hand back and forth. “This is mutual.”
Nate goes quiet again, but now that I’ve open the door and stepped into the personal, I want to know more.
“Nate.”
“Yeah.”
“What is it you have against relationships?”
“Superficial women aside, I have no staying power,” he says honestly, and it takes me by surprise. I shift on the bed and sit cross-legged as he stretches out on the mattress.
“Really?”
“A different mother might have raised me than my brothers, and I might be the black sheep, but when it comes right down to it, I’m no different from them—or my father. We go from place to place, and that makes relationships difficult.”
“I can understand that. You said you never do sleepovers.”
“I always leave, Kira. It’s what I do.” I love that he’s honest and forthright with me, and in no uncertain terms, he’s letting me know we don’t have a future. Not that I’m looking for one.
Liar.
But it’s impossible, and we both know that.
“Why?”
A deep, garbled sound catches in his throat. “I’m sure Dr. Phil would say, I leave before they can leave me.”
He’s joking, but I sense a deep hurt in him. “Your mom left, didn’t she?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t enough for her, I guess.” He turns his head, stares out the window.
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Ah, that familiar canned response I once gave him.
I put my hand on his cheek. “I really am sorry, Nate.”
Our eyes meet, lock in a warm, intimate gaze. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft around the edges.
“And just for the record, from the stories you told me, I think you are different from your brothers.”
“I’m the black sheep of the family. My older brothers are tight. They treat me like I’m still a kid, one who has no idea what he’s doing. But I do. Soon enough, they’ll realize it. I don’t need to prove myself to them, but we are family, and I don’t care if they respect me or agree with me. I’m just doing what needs to be done, whether they like it or not, and they need to keep out of my way.”
I nod. Family is important, it is to me, and it obviously is to him, too, but no one should ever be treated like the black sheep, and I get brotherly love and teasing, but his brothers were bullies, through and through.
“If only we could pick our families,” I say.
“How come you don’t want kids?” he asks.
I shrug like it’s nothing, but a knot tightens my gut. “Children aren’t practical in my world, and I’d never bring one into my life if I couldn’t be devoted. It’s not fair to the child. I know that firsthand.”
“You’re not your mother, Kira.”
“My work is my baby,” I say, my voice hitching.
His gaze intensifies as he looks over my face, and I guess there’s no hiding anything from him. I want kids, but long ago resigned myself to the fact that men don’t see me as marriage material.