Page 62 of The Dare

I nod and sniffle, feeling like an idiot.

Pull yourself together, Nat.

The tears keep coming, but soon enough I realize I really don’t have anything to be scared of anymore.

Not with Michael by my side.

I haven’t cried my last tears, but I have cried the last for my past.

That’s how it feels when Michael comes back into the kitchen with what looks like the biggest platter of sushi ever seen.

He sets it down and makes sure I really am okay again before he sets about arranging some chopsticks and sauces, wasabi, and everything else I know I’m not very good at handling.

Like the beach, I’ve never really tried sushi.

Not the proper kind like this anyway.

But with some gentle coaching and plenty of dropped food we both settle on just using our fingers, and I forget all about what happened on the beach.

Enjoying Michael’s company, with great food in such an amazing house kind of cancels out everything negative. Even if I am used to hanging on to the bad stuff in my mind.

I get full pretty quickly, but Michael seems content to pick away at the huge mountain of food, giving me a friendly warning that I should eat up while I have the chance.

“You’ll need your strength,” he cautions me with a grin, making me blush as I look at the clock on the wall.

Almost counting down until he can bed me properly, without train noises or cramped compartments.

“Are you gonna want to beat up on every person who calls me a name?” I eventually ask. He stops eating long enough to answer.

“If they say what they said down there and throw something that could potentially hurt you? Yes,” he says with a creased brow before relaxing and smiling.

“I didn’t beat up on them anyway,” he reasons aloud. “I just moved out of their way. Karma took care of the rest.” He beams, quietly recalling his victory.

I have to agree, but tell him I don’t want him to rescue me every time someone says something horrible.

“Who says they will?” he asks, but my ringing phone breaks the moment.

I should’ve turned it off, but I’ve been hoping I could call or text Suze before now.

And I half-expect it is her, but it’s not.

It’s my mom.

“You should get that,” Michael says, not even looking to see who it might be.

Like he just knows as well as I do who is calling.

He starts to clear away the counter, giving me some privacy as he walks over to the other side of the kitchen. I pick at my food as he puts the leftovers away.

I was hoping to reach or be reached by Suze beforehand, but something tells me mom hasn’t managed to get hold of either of us until I pick up.

Her voice is strained like she’s hiding her worry.

My first thought is what’s dad done now? But it’s clear soon enough that it’s me she’s worried about.

And Suze, of course.

“Nat? What’s going on? I thought I told you, girls, to call me as soon as you got off the train and then again once you got back to the house.”