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Damn.
I lift my hand to ring the bell, and belatedly remember his dad last night, glaring at me. But I’m here, and what the hell, right? What can his dad do if I come by?
I ring the bell before I lose my nerve, but nobody answers the door. I ring and ring, and with every ring, my stomach tightens more.
Until the lock clicks, the door opens, and Nate is there, whole and alive and messy-haired, staring at me, hazel eyes wide.
Is it strange I notice the pale green flecks in them or how long his dark lashes are? Whoa. My brain’s making those weird leaps it does when it’s sleep-deprived, and boy, is it sleep-deprived today.
“You’re okay,” I say stupidly, and he blinks at me, seeming as dazed as I feel.
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t come to school.”
“I… I overslept.” He’s dressed in navy blue pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved white tee. He snorts, but doesn’t sound amused. “Guess I’m still not one hundred percent after that party and the migraine.”
That makes sense. “You’d feel better if you dressed lighter. It’s too warm in here.”
“I’m okay.” He smiles, but it’s strained. “I’ll just go lie down a bit longer.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Something’s off. “Your dad not in?”
He shakes his head. “West, look—”
“Can I come in?”
He frowns, seems on the verge of saying no, then sighs and opens the door wider. “Sure, man.”
Shuffling inside, he waits for me to enter and closes the door. He’s barefoot, and if not for the whole pajama outfit, I could easily believe he just rolled out of bed. His hair is standing up in all directions, and his eyes are heavy-lidded.
“Have you eaten lunch?”
He shakes his head, turns around. “I’m going back to bed. Make yourself at home.”
I trail after him to his bedroom. I’ve rarely been in here. Nate doesn’t seem comfortable having me or Syd around here, which is weird. I mean, I’m the one who’s nuts about cleanness and tidiness, and they’re in my bedroom all the time. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” He sits down on his unmade bed, and I fight the urge to gather his covers that trail down to the floor and fold them. His hands clench at his sides. “You didn’t have to check on me.”
“You weren’t answering your phone, dude.”
His brows draw together. “The phone…? Ah shit. I dropped it last night. Might have broken it.”
“Where is it? Let me have a look.”
He glances around, still frowning. “I don’t… remember where it was.”
What the fuck? “Are you high?” A thought hits me. “Did you take any painkillers? Th
at shit is really strong sometimes.”
“Yeah… yeah, I did.”
Okay. I’m not sure if I should relax or freak out more. “Which ones, Nate?”
“The usual stuff. Hey, don’t sweat it. I’m just tired.” He shoves hair out of his face, and that’s when I see it.
A new bruise.
