A Kind of Contradiction

“So, you’re from San Francisco?”

I sighed, taking a long drink from the red plastic cup in my hand. I’d gone way past my limit, but I wasn’t coherent enough to care. Steve’s arm was around my waist and he was tall and strong and that was enough to distract me for now. Because Nash had left ten minutes ago with Audrey, and they were doing godknowswhat in the back of his Jeep. I wouldn’t be going near that vehicle ever again, now that I knew the sort of shit that went on in it.

“No, I’m from Brighton.”

“But you just said—“

“Would you get me a refill?”

“Uh, sure.”

I skirted passed the couple making out and dropped down on the log next to Julia, stretching out my legs. Conversation wasn’t Steve’s strongpoint, and I’d decided that I wasn’t in the mood to hook up tonight. But he seemed interested enough that I’d be able to call him up in the future if I was in need of a real distraction.

“How’re you getting home?” I asked, my gaze shifting away from the fire and toward my new friend.

“My brother’s picking me up. He should be here soon.”

“He’s not here?”

“No, he’s twenty-four. He always offers to pick me up, regardless of what time it is.”

“Sounds nice,” I replied, glancing over at my own older brother. He was cuddled up to some girl, whispering in her ear. A few spots away I saw Lindsay looking over in envy.

“Do you want a ride home?”

Steve was walking around holding my cup. I grabbed Julia’s wrist and leapt to my feet, swaying slightly. She cast me a confused expression, but I was too busy pulling her toward the parking lot to notice. “When is your brother going to be here?” I asked, as we walked between the cars. I made sure to steer clear of Nash’s Jeep.

“Like ten minutes. Why?”

“Because Steve thinks I’m going to sleep with him and I’ve just decided that I don’t want to.”

“I heard he’s shit in bed.”

“All the more reason.”

“We can wait over there,” Julia said, indicating the spot where the road ended and the field began. We walked to the edge of the makeshift parking lot and waited.

A Prius rolled up sometime later, and Julia told me that this was her brother’s car. The man sitting in the front seat had a head of dark curls and incredible cheekbones, but maybe it was just the shadows in the car that made the angles of his face more pronounced. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror as I climbed into the backseat, his eyebrows knit together. My awkward movements were probably enough to indicate that I was drunk, but I think it was the smirk I sent in his direction that convinced him.

“Patrick, this is Cosima. I said you’d drive her home,” Julia said while buckling her seatbelt.

“Need some water?” Patrick asked, looking over his shoulder as he turned the car around. He remained that way once the car was facing the road, his eyes on me.

“‘M fine,” I replied, my smile crooked. Patrick’s gaze lingered on mine for another beat, then he turned around with a slight chuckle.

“If you say so.”

After giving Patrick my address, I promptly fell asleep. It appeared that Julia had done the same, because she was still sleeping soundly when Patrick’s hand shook my knee. My eyelids fluttered open and I saw his amused expression just before his hand slid off my knee.

“Nice tattoo,” he said.

“I’ve got more,” I replied.

Patrick chuckled. “Will you be okay getting inside?”

“I am entirely in control of my faculties,” I assured him with one last smirk, just for good measure. Those cheekbones would definitely haunt my dreams tonight.

“Alright then. See you around, Cosima.”

I saluted with two fingers, feeling triumphant when Patrick grinned.

There were two text messages from Danny on my phone, both demanding where I was. I replied informing him I was at home, then left my phone on the bedside table and stripped out of my clothes. Sleeping in a bikini was probably the worst idea ever.

My sleep was fitful at best, and I woke up an hour later with a parched throat and a throbbing headache. I groaned and rolled out of bed, trying to remember where the Tylenol was. I checked the bathroom across the hall first and, finding none, decided to search the kitchen next. Mom was asleep, so I didn’t bother grabbing a pair of sweatpants to cover up my legs.

I headed downstairs, turning the corner toward the kitchen. When I saw that the light was on my first thought was that it was Danny, probably searching for water and painkillers just like I was. But when I stood in the doorway and saw Nash rummaging through the fridge, I froze.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted.

Nash straightened, glancing at me over his shoulder. When his eyes swept over my body, I was all too aware of the fact that I was only wearing a pair of underwear and a baggy t-shirt. But his expression was devoid of all emotion. “I drove Danny home and didn’t feel like going back to my place. Do you have a problem with me crashing on the couch?”

“No,” I replied after a moment. Then my body remembered that I’d come down here for a purpose, and I strode across the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard. Once it was filled I went in search of Tylenol, eventually finding a bottle amidst a series of teas and herbal supplements.

Nash grabbed a container from the fridge, passing by me on his way to the microwave. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, and I noticed the bruise on his neck. He shoved the container into the microwave and was about to punch in a number but I stopped him. “You need to open the lid a bit,” I said. “It lets the steam out.”

Casting a half-amused, half-mocking expression my way, Nash deliberately held the container out so I could watch him slightly lift the corner of the lid before placing it back in the microwave. Then he pressed a few buttons and leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. I’d gone back to what I was doing, and filled up my glass at the sink.

I could feel Nash looking, his gaze travelling lazily up and down my silhouette. When I glanced sideways at him, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he’d been watching. Most guys looked away when you caught them staring, but not Nash. I was distracted by the mark on his neck again, and looked away almost immediately. Once I’d popped the Tylenol and filled up my water once more, I headed for the doorway.

At the last moment, I glanced back over my shoulder. I knew that Nash was watching me go, and there was conflict in his eyes. “You have a hickey, by the way,” I told him, and Nash’s eyes went wide — all emotions wiped from his expression but surprise. “You might want to tell Aubrey to be more careful next time.”