A Kind of Contradiction

Once I was on my feet, Nash's hand shifted against mine. But he didn't pull away, he only adjusted his fingers so that they laced with mine. His hand was warm and his fingertips were rough, and his thumb brushed over my skin with surprising lightness. Brows furrowed, I stared at the side of Nash's face in hopes of gaining some sort of understanding as to why he hadn't let go. 

But he just looked over and smiled, then returned his gaze to the front and led me around the house. I wasn't entirely sure what to think of this gesture, whether it was a normal thing he did or there was some other meaning. I'd asked Nash to kiss me before and he wouldn't — or couldn't — so I'd left the idea of 'us' drift to the back of my mind where it lingered just on the edge of my consciousness. I couldn't deny that I wouldn't have minded if something had happened that day at the beach, because Nash was gorgeous and who wouldn't want a piece of him? But I had been a bit liquor-fuelled at that point, and usually when I was drunk I did things I regretted. 

Which led me to realize that my brain was buzzing and Nash's hand was really warm, and suddenly I was too aware of my skin and the slight humidity in the air and the flush of Nash's cheeks. He was drunk too, probably more than I was. 

"Anything but McDonald's," I proclaimed, letting the warmth traveling up my arm take over. I liked it, and just because I'd had one date with a ridiculously attractive older guy didn't mean I should just ignore the fact that Nash was holding my hand and smiling and he wasn't dating Audrey.

"Aw, and salt-laden, skinny, limp French fries were just what I wanted," Nash complained, glancing both was before starting across the street. "I was thinking Betty's. They're 24 hours and I can get served alcohol." 

"No way. How?"

"My neighbour is a waitress," Nash explained. 

We turned right on Main Street and Betty's was just a block away. Despite the late hour — my guess was that it was some time past one — the lights were on and the open sign glowed. The hostess led us to a booth, and because I didn't want to let go of Nash's hand just yet I pulled him in beside me. 

Nash's head whirled around, and I managed a sheepish smile. Then he gently detangled his fingers from mine and draped his arm across the backrest. "Okay?" He asked, confirming that he'd made the right call. 

I scooted closer to him, our bodies joined together from knee to hip. My elbow was very close to jabbing him in the ribs, so I readjusted and clasped my hands in my lap. "Okay," I confirmed. 

The waitress greeted Nash by name and even offered to get me a beer too. Once Nash had ordered his burger and French fries and I got a side of fries for myself, she flitted away and left us alone. There were several others in the diner, though nobody cared what anyone else was doing. I didn't even bother looking around, my thoughts were too loud to focus on anybody else. 

"What's changed?" I asked, tracing a spiral on the tabletop with my fingertip. "A week ago, I came onto you and you said no." 

"I said I couldn't," Nash corrected immediately. I tilted my head, watching him with narrowed eyes. "Not that I didn't want to." 

"Do you want to now?" 

He swallowed, his gaze flickering down to my mouth. "Yes, but I still can't." 

"Why?"

"Here's your beers," said the waitress, appearing at the worst possible moment. 

When she was gone, I dived right back in. "You know you can't hold my hand and put your arm around me but then refuse to kiss me, right? That's like, the definition of leading somebody on." 

"I know," he sighed, his arm still across the back of the booth while he sipped his beer. "Do you want me to move it?" 

"No," I decided. "You're warm and you smell nice. Most boys don't smell nice." 

"Did the guy you had a bad first date with smell nice?" Nash asked, sounding genuinely curious, as though he could determine whether I liked this guy by how he smelled. 

I frowned. "He didn't get close enough." 

Nash and I wolfed down our food. Despite being down one hand, he ate even faster than I did. And he paid. As soon as I stood up and straightened my dress, Nash grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the diner. 

"Where to now?"

"We could go back to yours," said Nash with a shrug. "I didn't think past the diner, to be honest." 

We decided that my house was our next destination. The walk there was silent, but a good sort of silent that you don't mind being in. Nash was tracing circles on my hand again, making me unable to think about anything but the feeling of my hand in his. 

Fuck, I wanted to kiss him. 

It wasn't the same want I had with wanting to kiss Patrick. That was out of frustration, of an urge to get the first kiss over with. The desire to kiss Nash was pure curiosity, and maybe a little bit because he kept on telling me how much he wanted to but couldn't. It was a stronger want; a need, even. 

We'd only just gotten in the front door when I whirled on him. I had to keep my voice down, because Mom was asleep, and I was annoyed at how weak my voice sounded when I whispered. "So, if you've got some kind of rule where you can't kiss me, does that stop me from kissing you?" 

Nash hesitated, his eyes drifting down to my lips before coming back up. "That's the idea."  

"I'm just very curious about this 'No Kissing Cosima' thing," I continued, letting the words fall out of my mouth without really thinking them through. That last beer had really done me in. I gripped Nash's hand tightly, heading for the stairs. "Are you banning all kinds of kissing? What about Eskimo kisses, do they count? You can hold my hand, put your arm around me, is there anything else you can do without breaking your rule?" 

"Um," Nash said dumbly, allowing me to lead him into my room. 

"If you aren't drunk enough for this, then you can go downstairs," I said. 

"Drunk enough for what?"

"I was going to ask you to stay." 

He seemed to struggle with his answer. "You're really testing my willpower here, Cosima."

I nodded. "That's kind of the point. I'm trying to figure out this rule of yours, because it makes no sense to me. I really want to make out with you right now, and I'm drunk enough to not remember it properly tomorrow, so if anyone asks we can chalk it up to loose morals." 

"You're my best friend's little sister," he said in a strained voice. 

There it was. The Reason. 

"And you may or may not be dating some other guy." 

"We went on one date and he didn't even hold my hand, so you're ahead there." 

"Are you going to go out with him again?"

"If I say yes, are you going to leave?" 

Nash ruffled his hair, heaving a sigh. "Well, now I know you might be lying if you say no. I think I should sleep on the couch tonight." 

I was disappointed, but it was probably for the best. If he'd stayed, then I'd just be testing his willpower and he might do something he regretted. For the dumb reason that I was Danny's sister. I mean really, I was kind of sort of dating a twenty-four year old. Being 'the little sister' wasn't as bad as that.