Blurred Truth (The Blurred Series Book 2) (3 page)

I wake at 6:00am the next morning with a buzz running through my veins. I don’t get up right away, though. I haven’t had more than four straight hours of sleep since...I don’t even know when, but I know Natalie will need longer, especially after last night.

Last night.

The memory of her soft crying stabs me in the heart and I close my eyes, tightly, trying to block out the memory.

After lying in bed, contemplating my plan, for what feels like an eternity, I can’t take it any longer. I have to get up and start implementing it before the anticipation of seeing her pretty face again kills me.

Throwing on some shorts, I head out to the kitchen and start prepping the pancake batter and brewing coffee. I remember exactly how she likes both. I remember the Sundays spent at her and Nate’s family home, all of us eating her father’s pancakes, her mom brewing a pot of decaf coffee for us kids.

I know she likes the caffeinated kind now, though. She told me...Land...that she needs it to function.

I know the feeling.

Refusing to debate with myself any longer over whether this is the best way to wake her up, I turn on The Killers on the surround-sound stereo system, and pump up the volume until the bass rattles the walls.

I get to work on cooking the pancakes, a nervous energy running through me, making my body move to the music to expel the tension.

I feel the moment she arrives in the room. I have to force myself to not turn around and look at her, feigning making my own breakfast, in my own little world, when all I can feel is the heat of her eyes on my naked back.

I didn’t leave my shirt off on purpose, I swear. I just didn’t think about it.

Honest
.

I start singing along with
Smile Like You Mean It
, just to convince her that little bit more that I don’t know she’s there.

Plating up three pancakes and covering them in her favorite syrup, I make quick work of pouring her a cup of coffee and adding a generous amount of milk.

When I turn around, I see her nervously biting at her lower lip, looking anywhere but at me, like she’s searching for an escape.

Wanting to stop her before she tries to make a run for it, I head over and place the pancakes and coffee in front of her on the breakfast bar, where she’s seated. Retrieving the stereo remote from my shorts pocket, I turn the volume down to a non-ear-bleed level.

“Breakfast and a show. Strong coffee, no sugar, extra milk,” I say with a smile and a wink.

She just stares up at me for a moment, appearing stunned, before saying, “Uh…th-thanks. Thank you. Sorry.”

She quickly moves her gaze down to her hands in her lap, where she nervously fiddles with the drawstring of her tiny shorts. Tiny shorts that are showing a ridiculous amount of tanned leg. A tinge of pink reaches from her neck to her cheeks and I have to will my body to behave.

This girl does something to me. Every reaction she has in my presence causes an equal reaction of my own. It’s a fundamental thing. As certain as science. Like gravity. There’s no way of stopping it and, to be honest, I don’t want to.

Snapping out of my Natalie-induced daze, I say,  “Hey, not a problem,” and bring her eyes to mine with a light finger under her chin. “It’s the least I can do after waking you with my loud music at the ass-crack of dawn. Sorry about that.” Okay, so I woke her up on purpose, but it was so that I could do something nice for her.

Jeez, when did I become so...manipulative?

Wanting to break the eye-contact before she sees the truth behind this morning’s events, I quickly head back to the stove and plate-up my own breakfast of bacon and eggs. Grabbing a black cup of coffee, I head back over to the breakfast bar and sit right next to her, instead of in one of the other two chairs at the opposite end.

“So, what are your plans for today?” I ask after finishing my first bite. Time to set part two of the
get-Natty-to-like-me
plan in motion.

“Um...well, I was probably just going to see if there were any writing jobs online and try and earn a little money to contribute around here. Why?” Her confusion is evident in her tone.

I don’t like that she feels the need to give us any money.

“That’s cool. Though you know we’ve got you, right? There’s no need to contribute anything. At least not right away, so don’t sweat it.”

She looks a little surprised about what I said. Does she think I expect her to pay rent and a third of the groceries or something; like she’s just some roommate we advertised for in the paper? That is not cool.

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you, but I’d feel guilty if I mooched off of you guys, regardless of the situation. Plus, I need to occupy my mind with something or I’ll go a little crazy,” she says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

She takes a bite of the pancakes and chews for longer than necessary. She doesn’t seem to be enjoying them the way I’d hoped she would.

Deciding to ignore it, I say, “Well, if you have some spare time, I could use some help with a job of my own.”

I take a gulp of hot coffee and Natalie’s eyes glaze over and seem to fix themselves to my bicep before sliding, unbidden, to my throat. The reaction makes me smile around the rim of my cup.

At that moment, she seems to snap out of her daze, blinking several times, before taking a shaky swig from her own mug and asking, “What kind of job?”

“I’m designing a website for a client, but it’s pretty darn girly, both in appearance and content. I could really use a woman’s opinion, if you’re up for it?” I ask tentatively.

I hope she says yes, or else my plan will be an epic fail.

It would be no less than you deserve, manipulative asshole.

She takes longer than I expect to contemplate my request, whilst feigning interest in her breakfast. But what she says next is like sweet music to my ears.

“Y-yeah, of course. I mean, I don’t know how much help I’d be, but I can certainly give it a shot.” She gives me a nervous, sideways glance, and that cute pinkness rises to her cheeks again.

I have a huge grin on my face, and I can’t help but just look at her. I’m so fucking happy she agreed to help me.

She gives me a small smile and turns back to her half-eaten food.

“Cool. Are you done with your food already? You look like you’re struggling,” I say as I rise to clear the dishes.

“Uh, Yeah. It’s really delicious, I just don’t have a huge appetite in the mornings. Thank you so much, though. I really appreciate it.”

That surprises me. She always loved breakfast as a kid. It was like her favorite meal of the day. Maybe it’s the memory of her dad’s pancakes and the fact he’ll never make them for her again that’s stolen her appetite.

Well, shit. Why didn’t I think of that before?

Because - we’ve been through this already - you’re an idiot.

She smiles at me, trying to convince me that she simply isn’t hungry. So I decide to go along with it, if that’s what she wants me to believe.

“Not a problem and you’re welcome. I’ll know not to make so many next time. I remember you having a much larger appetite in the mornings, back in the day.” I throw her a smirk, before grabbing the plates and moving to the sink to dispose of them.

At the same time, Natalie speaks with unexpected anger lacing every word. “I’m not an awkward, chubby, preteen girl anymore, Ryan.”

What. The. Fuck?

Quickly and quietly contemplating how to handle this abrupt change in atmosphere, I spin around to face her with my hands up in surrender. “Okay, Natty, I wasn’t insinuating anything. I know you’re not, believe me,” I say with a grin, trying to warm her suddenly cold mood.

She’s standing now, giving me my first full glimpse of her attire this morning. I can’t help my eyes wandering all over her body.

Get a grip.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she demands, but her voice is shaky.

“Like what?” I ask, while knowing exactly
what
, already.

“I don’t know. Just stop staring. I know I look a hot mess right now,” she explains weakly. I think she’s embarrassed.

Is that really what she thinks? If so, I need to change that...right now.

“Actually, I was thinking you look hot as hell. Not a hot mess. Just hot,” I say, seriously, so she knows I’m being sincere.

“Okay. S-stop making fun of me, Ryan. We’re a little old for that now, don’t you think?” she stutters with that false bravado of hers.

Jesus, how much damage did I really do when we were younger? Why doesn’t she believe me?

“I am in no way making fun of you, Natalie,” I say, making eye-contact and moving to lean across from her on the breakfast bar.

“I-I’m wearing pajamas and my hair looks like a haystack, so you’re obviously not being serious.”

“Actually, you’re wearing the shortest fucking shorts I’ve ever seen, which are exposing your smooth legs, a practically non-existent top with no bra, and you’ve got bed hair...or just-fucked hair, if you want the crude version, which is more my style,” I state with a little more anger than I’d intended.

Her warped perception of herself is driving me crazy.

“Uh, what?” she asks in bemusement.

Continuing my little rant, I say, “Oh, and let’s not forget the fluffy, little boot-slipper things. They just add something extra to the whole ensemble. I’m going to call them your ‘fuck me’ slippers.” And I really would like to fuck her in nothing but those slippers.

Shit.
There goes the blood heading downstream again.

Who wears slippers in July, anyway?

“What!? They are not...that! They’re just mukluks. What’s wrong with mukluks?” she practically shrieks at me.

“Just proving how very serious I am about you looking hot, Natalie. You could have just believed me, but you pushed, and the whole truth came out. I’m sorry, but I struggle with the whole brain-to-mouth filter thing. I wasn’t trying to be offensive to you,” I explain honestly, trying to regain what little headway I’d made before this little blip.

She bursts out laughing. A genuine laugh, and it makes me laugh a little, too, when I realize the mood has lightened. It makes me smile.

“I’m not offended. I mean, you are basically telling me I’m a-attractive, and you’re the only guy who’s ever put it in so many words, so...I can’t really be mad at the word choice, I guess.” She shrugs, and goes back to fiddling with the drawstring on her indecently short shorts.

Surely guys, other than Land...me, have told her how beautiful she is?

“I can’t believe that, Natty.”

“Can’t believe what?”

“That a guy has never told you you’re attractive.”

“Well...not one who’s actually met me, anyway.”

So it is true. I’m the only one who’s ever told her how attractive she is. That thought makes me unspeakably sad, but at the same time I’m happy that I get to do that for her. Make her feel good about herself. Give her a feeling she’s never had.

It’s selfish; it shouldn’t please me, but it does.

“W-well I better go get dressed for the day and start looking for jobs. Thank you for breakfast, Ryan.” And with that, she’s power walking back to her bedroom like she can’t wait to get away from me.

Well...fuck!

After cleaning up the dishes from our breakfast, I turn off the stereo and head back to my room, feeling a little defeated after Natalie fled.

As I lie on my bed, contemplating what went wrong, I hear the faint sound of the shower turning on, and the memory of the vision I now know is in that bathroom springs me into action.

I can’t be here.

Throwing some clean clothes into my gym bag, I pull on a T-shirt and sneakers, then head out the door.

When I reach the gym, I get straight to work, pounding my feet against the treadmill at a too-fast pace for a warm-up, but it does little to ease my frustration.

When my lungs burn from the exertion, I relent and move onto weights, pumping my arms faster than I should.

Chin-ups.

Press-ups.

Squats.

Sit-ups.

Punching bag.

Punching bag.

Punching bag.

A couple of hours doing this should work.

* * *

When I’m done punishing my body, I shower at the gym and throw on my old worn jeans and a black T-shirt, leaving my hair to dry in its usual mess.

When I get back to the apartment, muscles aching and mind feeling exponentially more relaxed than when I left, Natalie is nowhere in sight. She’s probably still in her room, since Nate is still at work and she doesn’t know anyone else in this town. She’s not the type to venture out alone.

That thought instantly makes me feel like an asshole for leaving her here for so long.

When I reach my room, I check my phone, having left it here when I went to the gym. There’s a text from Nate.

Nate: Hey man, can you make sure Natty’s ok today? I don’t want her staying cooped up in her bedroom all day feeling sad, but I don’t want to tell her what to do, either.

Me: Sure thing, dude. She’s going to help me with a job.

Nate: In your bedroom?

Me: Uh, yeah. Why?

Nate: Don’t try anything with her. She’s vulnerable right now.

Me: WTF? Do you really think I would do something like that?

Nate: No. I don’t know. I’m just extra protective of her right now. Sorry.

Me: Apology accepted, asshole. Now stop worrying and get back to work.

Whilst Nate’s protectiveness is understandable, his insinuation that I would take advantage of Natalie’s fragile emotional state has me bristling. Gone is the relaxed feeling I had when I walked through the door. But I can’t help but think he might be right to worry.

I’m so drawn to her, I honestly don’t know that I wouldn’t try something.

Just a kiss.

No!

Shaking my head at my wayward thoughts, I shove the phone in my pocket, turn on my desktop computer and head to Natalie’s bedroom door, knocking lightly in case she’s napping.

I think she might be when I hear no movement, but before I walk away, I hear her sweet voice say, “Come in.”

Opening the door, I halt at the threshold, leaning my hands against the top of the doorframe, awaiting her invite to move into the room, but it doesn’t come.

Her eyes appear glazed as they roam from where my hands rest, down to the waist of my jeans, where her gaze seems to linger. It makes me smile, knowing she’s checking me out. She’s so innocent, she probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, and that just makes me smile even more.

Not wanting to, but knowing I should, I clear my throat to bring her back to reality, where her eyes snap up to mine.

“Hi,” I say with the huge grin still on my face.

“Hi,” she whispers back, making no attempt to move from her position on the bed.

The bed
.

I could just walk right over without another word, caress her warm cheek, brush my fingertips over her soft lips, then kiss them.

No. No, you can’t.

“So, I was wondering if you had some time free right now. I was going to work on that project I told you about this morning,” I say instead.

She quickly sits up, and smoothing her hair she says, “Um...sure. I just got done with the online jobs, so...sure.”

She’s saying
sure
, but looking so unsure at the same time. It's clear that I unsettle her, and that's exactly why my plan needs to work. I don't want her to feel unsure when it comes to me.

“Awesome. Come on, I’ve already got it set up on the computer in my room,” I say, heading back to my bedroom, hoping she follows.

Sitting in front of the computer monitor, I load up the website design that I need Natty’s help with.

I feel her standing at my doorway; no need to turn around for confirmation.

I wait a minute, thinking she’s going to come in of her own accord, but I sense no movement. When I turn around in my desk chair, her eyes move to me, the look I see in them almost rendering me speechless.

Blinking hard to clear my head, I say, “Come on in. Have a seat.” Tapping the chair next to me at the desk, in invitation.

“Okay, so how can I help?” she asks, after tentatively taking a seat.

I explain the website; the subject matter and that it’s for an author, and I show her what I’ve done so far. Seeing her face light up gives me a sense of pride. It’s an important project to me and her stamp of approval is vital.

Over the next twenty minutes, she gives me her input of what she’d like to see on an author’s website. She’s full of ideas I hadn’t even considered and it’s going to make the final product so much better than it would have been.

I worry that she might be getting bored talking about website design, but she says she’s having fun, effectively dispelling that thought with a genuine smile.

“Do you think there’s anything about the design I should change? Is it too...purple?” I ask with trepidation. I’ve been worried about the over-abundance of the color since I started.

“No, you’ve got a lot of white in the design, which really tones down the use of color. It’s perfect. Exactly what I’d want if I was an author. I think you nailed it, Ryan.”

Her feedback puts another huge grin on my face. This girl just has me smiling all the damn time. 

I never smile.

Feeling accomplished, I ask Natalie if she’s hungry and, regardless of her answer, the rumble of her stomach responds for her, so we head out to the kitchen together, laughing at her body’s perfect timing along the way.

“I could totally go for one of your mom’s special recipe sandwiches right about now. I miss those things like crazy,” I say, searching the freezer for something edible. Then I freeze.

Fuck.
I can’t believe I just said that.

Turning from the freezer to face her, I say, “Shit. I’m so fucking sorry Natty, I wasn’t thinking.”

I can see she’s fighting back tears. Holding them in and trying to convince me she’s okay so that I won’t feel bad. Always thinking of others before herself.

“I know. The brain-to-mouth filter thing. It’s okay,” she promises unconvincingly.

I give her a sad smile, pleading with my eyes for her to forgive me.

When I can’t stand the guilt that looking at her brings, I turn back around and pull a bag of pizza rolls from the freezer.

I really need to watch my mouth and think before I speak.

There’s a first time for everything.

* * *

After we eat, Natalie tells me she’s going for a nap, but I sense what she really wants is to talk to me. Not to me; to
Land
. So I quickly head to my room and log on to the chat room, so as to avoid her disappointment if she logs in to find
I’m
not there.

BabyDove94 says: Hey :)

Seeing that smiley face floors me. A cloak of sadness clearly came over her after my careless slip before lunch. Does talking to
Land
really cheer her up? Or is she lying to him with that little emoticon. Is she lying to me?

I’m lying to her. I’m lying by omission by not telling her I’m
him
. The guilt is all-consuming now that she’s living in the same apartment. Now that I have to see her every day. Now that we’re talking to each other with nothing but a hallway between us. It’s a ridiculous situation of my own, fucked up making.

Realizing I’m taking way too long to respond, and probably causing her to worry, I hastily type my greeting with an equally false emoticon.

OffLand18 says: Hey, baby :)

BabyDove94 says: I missed you last night.

Dammit
. I suspected as much, but seeing the confession on the screen makes it real, and that pang of guilt is back with a vengeance, stabbing me in the chest.

OffLand18 says: I missed you too. Sorry I had to leave so abruptly :(

That emoticon is the truest thing about this conversation.

BabyDove94 says: That’s ok. So…I gave you a description of me…can I get one of you now you’re not in such a rush? ;)

Shit. How do I be honest without giving myself away? I may have been lying by omission, but I never flat-out lie to Natalie when she asks me questions. I won’t ever do that. My morals may be skewed, at best, when it comes to her, but they aren’t absent, by any means.

OffLand18 says: Oh, yeah, of course! I almost forgot you don’t know what I look like either. Here goes – I’m like 6’1”, have dark hair and light hazel eyes. I’m pretty athletically built. I’m kinda hot TBH ;)

Okay, so, technically, my eyes are green, but they do look hazel in certain lights. Don’t judge. I'm not lying.

I'm not.

BabyDove94 says: LOL! Yeah you sound hot, and totally modest.

OffLand18 says: Oh, totally. I also have big hands, I forgot that part.

BabyDove94 says: Big hands? Lol. That doesn’t seem particularly relevant, but ok.

OffLand18 says: Oh, it’s relevant, baby ;)

BabyDove94 says: Right, got it! *embarrassed*.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be taking it too far, again. But I can’t fucking help myself.

I don’t want her being embarrassed with me. Not online or in person. I want to make her confident in herself. I want so many things for her, and I want to be there for all of it.

OffLand18 says: Don’t be embarrassed. I want you to stop feeling embarrassed or shy with me, ok?

BabyDove94 says: I’ll try. So, do you have any tattoos?

I can’t answer that without lying in some way, so I’m not going to.

I can’t.

OffLand18 says: That’s for me to know and you to find out ;)

BabyDove94 says: No fair :( lol. But I hope I do find out...one day.

OffLand18 says: You will, baby. I promise.

I’m not lying. Yes, she’s already seen my tattoos, but that promise is me making a pact to tell her the truth one day. Someday soon. She will know that I’m Land and Land is me, of that I’m certain. I just have no fucking clue how or when it will happen.

The important thing is that
it will
.

She goes on to tell me about the bad time she had last night, which I’m already all too aware of, because I was right there with her. Just on the other side of that damn door. A door that seems to be perpetually between us.

After I tell her I’m making headway with my job - a fact she is already aware of, I know - she says something that surprises me.

BabyDove94 says: I’m getting along with my brother’s best friend a lot better than I thought I would. He’s being, dare I say it, nice! He’s acting completely different to the way I thought he would before moving here. It’s a relief, to be honest. I don’t think I could take it if he were his usual, mean self after everything that’s happened.

OffLand18 says: That’s great news. I’m glad he’s making you feel welcome :)

BabyDove94 says: Yeah, he is. Hopefully it continues.

Knowing that I’m making her feel good about living with me, puts yet another smile on my face.