Page 10 of Scar Tissue

“Come on, don’t be shy. I’m sure we can have a little fun. No harm in that, right?” He

raises an eyebrow, his tone playful but insistent.

I feel my heart rate pick up and I take a step back from the bar, forgetting about my water. Something tells me that this is the kind of guy who doesn’t takenofor an answer. That’s when I hear a familiar voice from behind me. “Hey, is everything okay here?” Nathan steps up, standing just slightly to my side, placing himself between meand the stranger. His tone is calm but assertive, and the way he stands there with his shoulder slightly angled toward me sends a rush of relief through me, but I don’t let it show.

The stranger looks him up and down before offering a half-smile. “Oh, no problem, man. Just having a chat.”

Nathan doesn’t budge, though. “It didn’t look like she was enjoying this ‘chat’ you were having.”

“And who exactly are you?” the stranger asks, clearly not assessing the threat in front of him accurately.

“The next person she’s talking to.” Nathan looks pointedly at me. “The person she’s with. And I think it’s time for you to move along.”

The stranger gives a long, slow look at Nathan, his smile faltering slightly. “Oh, really?” He looks back at me with an almost smug expression. “You don’t have to put up with him, you know.”

I open my mouth to say something because he must have a death wish, but Nathan cuts in, his voice smooth but final, and the rasp in it is nothing like the stranger’s. It leaves goosebumps coating my skin, like a soft chilled breeze has just swept through the room. “Yeah, she does. Now, if you don’t mind…”

The guy takes one last look at me, clearly deciding that continuing this conversation is not worth the effort or the risk to his health. He mutters something under his breath before turning and walking away, weaving through the crowd. As he disappears, I feel my shoulders relax. Nathan turns to face me fully now, his eyes soft but with an edge of that thing I can’t decipher.Can’t or won’t?“Are you alright?”

I take a breath, my pulse still racing from the encounter. “Yeah…thanks. You didn’t have to do that, though.”

He looks at me, his face serious now. “You looked like you needed help. I didn’t want to leave you to handle that alone. He looks like the type to roofie girls.” Clearly, we agree on something.

“But pretending to be my boyfriend?” I can feel the frustration bubbling up now. It’s not that I’m not grateful, it’s just… “I didn’t need a hero.”

He raises his hands. “Alright, I get it. I didn’t mean to overstep. I just thought?—”

“I can take care of myself,” I interrupt, the words coming out faster and harsher than I meant.

He just stares at me for a moment. “I wasn’t pretending, and I know you can. I thought it would make him back off faster. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“I just don’t want to be treated like I can’t handle a situation like that on my own. You or Fletcher aren’t always going to be around to prevent that from happening.”

He seems to process my words, his expression shifting again. “I didn’t mean to make it seem that way, nor was my intention to upset you. I didn’t like the way he was leering at you and I let my emotions get the better of me. I wasn’t trying to make things worse.”

I shake my head, trying to cool my temper. “You didn’t make things worse, but next time…maybe just approach it differently.”

“Okay. Lesson learned,” he says, turning to walk away.

I let out a breath, the tension still lingering but starting to dissipate. “And, Nathan?” He stops and turns to look back at me, waiting. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just…not used to that kind of thing. Thank you.”

Chapter

Eight

NATHAN

All I could hear was the sound of blood rushing in my ears from where I leaned against the booth. As if it wasn’t hard enough to sit still when I watched some guy sidle up behind her on the dance floor, his front pressed against her back—I then had to witness some asshole who didn’t seem to be able to understand the wordno.Her body language had screamed discomfort: the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her laugh and smile all forced and brittle, the way her eyes darted toward the crowd like she was searching for an escape. I told myself I wasn’t going to intervene, confident she would get herself out of whatever that situation was, but the guy kept on, leaning in closer as though he had the right. Jealousy and anger had burned hot and irrational in my chest at watching that idiot treat her like she was just another girl to hit on.

So I had said to hell with standing back, moving before I realized it. But now I’m wondering if that was the wrong play. Thea wasn’t my girl, as she made painfully clear after the confrontation, but damn it she doesn’t deserve to be treated like an object, either. And there was no way I could just…stop caring about her. Just as I could give her all the space she asks for…but I’ll never be able to leave her alone again now that she’s back in my life. If I could get her to just talk to me, to hear me out, maybe she will let me in. Not only to get close to her, but I want her to trust me enough to let me help her with what she’s going through. And then I had to say that I wasn’t pretending to be her boyfriend after she called me out on it. Not a great choice of words either, as that is exactly what I was doing and I know it. All but confirmed it. Because whether she caught it or not, I’ve already done exactly what Fletcher did with Dylan. Claimed her.

The house is quieter than I expect when we get back, which is odd considering it isn’t any quieter than it was before Thea moved in. Although, maybe that’s it. Even though I haven’t seen much of her since then, I’ve gotten used to hearing her through our shared wall; the way her feet sound as she walks up and down the hall. The buzz of the night out still clings to us, but the mood has shifted, mellowing with the late hour after Dylan and Fletcher went home. Thea brushes past me, heading toward the back patio with an effortless grace—one that she hasn’t shown, one that’s almost…relaxed. I know whatever grief she is carrying is far from gone, she is far from healed, but it still brings me some relief. I hesitate for a moment before following her.

The cool night air hits me again as I step outside, the door clicking shut softly behind me. She doesn’t turn around, but I know she hears me by the way her shoulders tense. She’s leaning against the railing, her arms draped over the edge as she stares up at the light of the moon. Pieces of her hair have fallen out of her bun, catching the faint light from the porch. She looked stunning earlier, her beauty hitting me like a freight train as she came crashing out of the bathroom, stealing my breath. But she has never looked more gorgeous than she does right now, bathed in the silver glow of the night. There are so many things I want to ask her, but this moment isn’t an invitation for a conversation. Still, I stay. Leaning against the railing a few feet away, I let the silence stretch between us and for once, there is no tension. The breeze carries a faint hint of rain on the horizon, and I tell myself to be patient. She has never been the kindof person to push, and that stands true now more than ever. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know,” she says after a while.

I raise an eyebrow, though she isn’t looking at me. “About what?”

“Hovering.” She turns her head to glance at me with an unreadable expression on her face. “I’m fine, Nathan. You don’t have to keep checking on me.”