Blurred Truth (The Blurred Series Book 2) (7 page)

BabyDove94 says:
BOLD
ITALICIZED CAPS!!!

OffLand18 says: ;) What do I need to do to get underlined, bold, italicized caps?

BabyDov94 says: I don’t know.

OffLand18 says: Come on. You know you don’t have to be shy with me anymore.

BabyDove94 says: Maybe 2 fingers?

OffLand18 says: Maybe? You don’t seem sure. How about 2 fingers inside you and my thumb on your clit?

BabyDove94 says:
OMFG, YES. THAT!!!

And from this day forth, I love underlined, bold, italicized caps.

After finishing with Natalie, I make my way out to the living room, and I see Nate putting plates on the breakfast bar where condiments and dishes are already strewn.

“Hey. What’s all this?” I ask as I reach the kitchen.

“This is Mexican food,” Nate replies without looking at me. He seems exhausted and I feel bad for my best friend. He’s got a lot of responsibility on his shoulders now, but he lost his parents, too. Is anyone caring about how he’s coping with all this, the way I am about Natalie?

“Everything okay, man? I couldn’t help hearing Natty upset, earlier.”

“Yeah, just my parents’ house. It’s gone. There’s nothing more to say about it,” he explains quietly, while focusing on making his plate of food.

As I start working on making my own plate, Nate and I both notice Natalie’s entrance at the same time, looking up from what we’re doing; both eager to check her present mood.

“So, what’s for dinner? I sure am glad I didn’t miss it. I’m starved!” she says, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Like she wasn’t just crying her eyes out a couple of hours previous.

I can’t say I’m not happy to see her looking so...chipper, but I can’t help feel like it may be a front for her brother’s benefit. On the other hand, our online conversation might have really done her some good, and that thought makes me happy.

I shouldn’t be happy. I, once again, took things to a whole new level with
Land
. How am I going to convince her to give him up, when he’s saying shit like
“Do you want me to make love to you?”

Where the fuck did that even come from?

You know where, idiot.

Yeah. The fact of the matter is, I was talking to her as if I were
me
. I wasn’t thinking of the bigger picture and the fact that she doesn’t know I’m him.

If I play my cards right, she’ll never need to know. She’ll let him go of her own volition and that will be the end of it. No lasting damage.

I’m not a fool; I know she’ll end up hurt in some way, even if she is the one who makes the decision to give him up, but it won’t be for long. I’ll be there to pick up the pieces, whatever that entails, and then we can go on with our lives with no more lies.

Only the truth.

That’s some blurred truth, right there.

“Hey, Nat. I made tacos to go with the chips and dips you brought home. I didn’t know when you and Ryan were gonna show, so I waited a while to start cooking. You both have impeccable timing,” Nate says, looking at Natty intently. “Seems like you’re feeling better?” he asks with some hope in his tone.

“Yeah, I think I am,” she says with a sincere smile.

Well, that’s good. Maybe some of this good mood is a front, but I think she is genuinely feeling better, on some level.

The thought makes me smile as I continue preparing my dinner.

“I wanted to tell you something earlier actually; the reason why I bought the drinks and stuff,” Natalie says, and that grabs Nate’s attention, but I just continue what I’m doing, knowing full-well what she’s about to confess.

“Oh, yeah?” Nate asks, giving Natty his full focus.

“First, I want you to know I only kept it from you because I wanted to be sure I could do it...before I told you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Okay, well now I’m a little worried. Just spit it out, Natalie.” His tone has turned impatient.

Uh-oh.

“Yesterday, I went down to Calli’s Café and asked about the job there. Calli gave it to me on the spot, and my first day was today,” she confesses so quickly, I’m sure Nate must only catch every other word.

He sighs heavily, then says, “Natty, you know you don’t have to go get a job. You’ve got your writing, and I’ll take care of you financially.” He goes back to preparing his food, like those are just the facts of the matter - end of discussion.

Natty looks exasperated, and I don’t really blame her.

“Nate, I know you worry about me, and I’m grateful that you want to take care of me, but you can’t protect me from life. I need a life. Getting a little job next door may not be much, but it’s a start, and Calli said I did well today. I’m proud of myself, and I was really hoping you would be too.”

“I am proud of you, Little N. So proud. I’m sorry for coddling you, and making you feel like you couldn’t tell me about this before now. If you want to do this, then I won’t stop you. Of course I won’t. Just know that if you need anything, I’m here.”

“I do know that. Thank you, Nate. You really are the best big brother,” she says with relief.

“You bet your ass I am. You’re not such a bad little sister, yourself. Now let’s eat some tacos before they get cold,” he says with a smile, handing Natalie a plate over the breakfast bar. “And let’s talk about how Ryan made pancakes this morning, then guilted me into eating ‘em when I said I was just going to stop in at Calli’s on my way to work.”

Well, crap
.

“Yeah, let’s talk about how I slaved over a hot stove making breakfast for an ungrateful bastard, who didn’t even care that I’d made four different flavors. Four!” I state with mock-annoyance.

That makes Natalie giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard since my name passed her lips when I made her come. Or Land did.

Whatever, same diff.

“Or, let’s talk about how my so-called best friend used four flavors of pancakes to keep me from going down to Calli’s for my usual breakfast this morning, because my
sister
was keeping her new job a secret from me.”

“Busted!” I whisper-shout to Natty, before shoving a chip into my mouth. “Don’t get mad at me just ‘cause you missed your regular morning foreplay with Calli,” I direct at Nate.

“My what?!” Nate spits back.

“You heard me,” I say with a smirk as I take my plate of food and a beer to the couch.

* * *

Me: I’m really proud of you. I just wanted you to know that.

I text Natalie at around 12:30am, just because I can’t help myself and I want her to know how proud I am of her for overcoming her fears today. What I don’t expect is her reply. I figured she’d be asleep by now.

Natalie: Thank you. That means a lot. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Me: Yes you could have, and I was nowhere around today. That was all you.

Me: And why are you awake right now? Are you ok? I told you to tell me if you were ever feeling upset and couldn’t sleep again. If I can’t trust you to let me know, I’m gonna start checking-in on you.

Natalie: Thank you. And I’m fine! I’m awake because I was reading. Haven’t had chance to read much lately. It kinda distracted me from sleeping.

Me: Oh, yeah? So what are you reading?

Natalie: It’s just a romance novel. Nothing you’d have heard of.

Me: So what’s it about?

Natalie: Uh...a love story. Hence ‘romance novel’. Duh.

Me: Is it one of those smutty ones, or the ones that send people into a fit of depression in the end?

God, I hope it’s a smutty one. The thought of her reading about what I want to do to her is a huge turn-on.

Natalie: Well I haven’t got to the end, so I don’t know if it’ll make me depressed.

Me: Ha! So it’s a smutty one, isn’t it?! Tell me the truth Natty, come on.

Natalie: Fine. It might be a little smutty. But it’s totally an important part of the storyline.

Me: Translation - it’s a lot smutty and you love every minute of it.

Natalie: I do not!

Me: So I was right - it is a lot smutty! There’s no shame in that Natty. I love porn too.

Natalie: It is not porn! And I don’t love it!

Me: Fine. In that case, you won’t mind sending me a screenshot of the page you were last reading.

I’m just teasing. I love getting a rise out of her. I bet she’s blushing so bad right now that her neck and face are as red as a ripe tomato.

I know it’s a little mean, but I just can’t help it. Just like I can’t help everything else I feel around her.

Natalie: What if I don’t send you it?

Me: Then I can only assume you’re reading porn.

Natalie: How would you even know I was sending you the last page I read? I could pick any page I wanted.

Me: If it’s not smutty, I’ll know it’s not the last page you read. If the last page you read wasn’t completely filthy, you’d have just sent it to me without hesitation to prove your point.

She sends me a picture of the page she was last reading - like I asked - and I was totally right. That makes me laugh, and I’d be surprised if she didn’t hear me across the hall. So, I stop myself, not wanting her to feel like I’m laughing at her. I’m laughing with her, really.

Me: Jesus, Natty. This shit’s even turning me on, and I’m a guy. We usually need visuals.

Natalie: You don’t know their story. You don’t know the characters. And it’s just one page. You can’t possibly understand!

Me: It may be porn with a good storyline, but it’s porn none-the-less, Natty. And I quote “She was so wet, he entered her in one hard thrust, then stilled as she quivered around him, adjusting to his considerable length.”

Me: This might even be better than porn. I may just have to download it myself. Or maybe you can just screenshot the really good bits like this and text them to me.

Natalie: OMG stop! This is so embarrassing.

Me: Ha ha. I’m just messing with you, Nat. I know tons of girls love reading this stuff. It’s just fun to get a rise out of you is all. There’s nothing wrong with the books you read ;)

Natalie: I know there’s nothing wrong with them!

Looks like I’ve really riled her up. I like feisty Natalie.

But then a question pops into my head that I can’t stop myself from asking.

Me: Do you want a man like the one in this book?

Natalie: Doesn’t every girl want a man like the one in the book?

Me: No. Some girls like to be the one in charge, controlling every situation. Others like to be taken care of, in all situations. Some are a bit of both or more of one with a little of the other. Which are you?

Natalie: I guess I don’t really know yet.

Me: Then I’ll look forward to finding out. Sweet dreams, Natalie.

She’s avoiding me.

I’ve literally not seen Natalie Connor for two weeks. How can you go two weeks without seeing someone you share an apartment with?

The first week, I just put down to coincidence. We were both busy. But the second? Not a chance.

She hasn’t even told
Land
about it.

My suspicions were confirmed when Calli gave me a sympathetic look one day, when I went into the café hoping to bump into Natty. It was like she was saying,
“She’s here, but she’s hiding,”
with her eyes, even though her mouth was saying,
“We are so rushed off our feet, I had to send Natalie out back to prep more food. She can’t even spare five minutes, Ryan.”

I don’t even know what I’ve done to cause it.

I’ve gone over and over our conversations from before this started. All I can think is that I really pissed her off with our text conversation about her books. But that can’t be right; it just doesn’t make sense.

Well, it doesn’t even matter anymore, because today, it ends.

My last plan didn’t go that great, since it ended with this little debacle, but my new plan will go better. It has to.

I head over to Natalie’s bedroom door and knock, tentatively. I know she’s in there. She’s probably trying to find a hiding place. There are none; I checked.

“Nat, can I come in, please? I know you’re in there and I know you’ve been avoiding me…
Please
,” I plead, unable to hide how much this is affecting me. My tone isn’t mad; just...sad.

When she still doesn’t answer, I try again.

“Natty, come on. Whatever I did, I’m sorry, okay?” I’ll apologize for anything, she just needs to put an end to this...this...not knowing.

“Come in,” she finally responds with the smallest voice.

When I enter, she’s moving to sit up on the bed, and she promptly focusses on her lap, fiddling with something that isn’t there; concentrating on anything but my presence.

“Hey, can I sit?” I ask as I reach the side of the bed.

She nods, and I promptly take a seat next to her on the mattress.

“So, is it because I made fun of the books you read?” I ask regretfully, leaning back slightly and supporting myself with both hands.

She briefly glances at me before saying, “No. I d-don’t know why you think I’ve been avoiding you. I...I’ve just been real busy with work and writing and...stuff.”

The look on her face tells me she knows just how lame that excuse was.

“Natty, you’re a horrible liar, and that’s a good thing. What’s not a good thing is you avoiding me and not giving me a chance to make right whatever it is I’ve done wrong. I can’t make it up to you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

She’s silent for a solid minute, looking like she’s going over everything in her mind. Then she says, “Look, Ryan… Yes, I have been avoiding you, but I’m done now. I can’t tell you my reasons, but I can tell you that it was nothing you did, okay? You don’t need to feel bad or fix anything. This was all in my messed-up head and I’m sorry.”

She looks contrite and ashamed. The remorseful expression causes a surge of guilt to well-up inside me. Guilt for what? I don’t really know. I just don’t want her to look that way anymore, so I brush my hand up and down her back, in reassurance. Telling her with my touch that I don’t care why she did it, and only that we’re okay from now on.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Natty. Just promise me if I ever do something that makes you want to avoid me, you’ll let me know so I can fix it.”

“Okay, I promise. And I’m sorry for being weird the past two weeks,” she says with a nervous smile.

When my hand settles on the small of her back, I feel the heat of her skin seeping into my own, and it causes the blood in my veins to pump a little faster. My breathing to become a little shallower. I need to move before things escalate.

I stand and briskly move to the doorway, giving her a grin when I turn back and say, “Well, I guess since it wasn’t my fault, that means I don’t have anything to make up for, which means I can just go ahead and unpack the picnic I made. Good talk, Nat.”

And there, the plan is set in motion.

She follows me down the hallway and out into the living room, before saying, “You made a picnic? For me?”

She sounds so surprised, it almost hurts.

“Yeah. Well, I put a picnic together. Technically, Calli made the contents,” I explain with a wink.

I’m still not sure if those work on her or not.

I begin unpacking the backpack on the counter, prompting Natty to interrupt.

“Wait! Why can’t we still go on the picnic? I don’t have to work today or anything.”

“Well, now that I don’t have anything to make up for, I figured I’d just put all this stuff in the fridge and go do something that would actually be fun,” I deadpan.

It was meant to be a joke, but I think there might have been yet another malfunction with my brain-to-mouth filter, because the look on Natty’s face when I finish the sentence is devastating.

“Oh. Right. Sure. Okay.” Eyes downcast, she turns to retreat back to her room, and my heart plummets to my stomach where a giant knot has formed.

Stop her, asshole!

“Jesus Christ, Natalie, I can’t believe you actually bought that shit. Of course I want to still go on a picnic with you!” I say with a little more volume than I intended. Hopefully I didn’t just scare her on top of hurting her feelings.

I am a level-five douche.

She turns back to me, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective gesture, before asking, “Really?”

“Really, really,” I say with a grin; expressing how genuine that statement really is.

“Why?” And that question about breaks my heart.

Why not?

“Because I enjoy your company, that’s why. You’re funny, you’re cute and I like being around you,” I say with fervor, trying to portray my honesty.

I need her to know I’m not just blowing smoke up her ass. I mean every word.

“Well, I guess I must have changed more than I thought, then.”

“No, Natty, I’ve changed. You’ve always been you,” I say with a genuine smile.

How can this girl not see how awesome she is?

Re-packing the food, I give her a once-over with my eyes, checking out her clothing...and
everything
else. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work. The clothes, that is. The rest is perfect.

“You’re not in the right attire, but we aren’t going far, so it’ll do, I guess.”

“How are shorts, a blouse and sandals not the right attire for a picnic?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

“You have a motorcycle?” she asks, in shock, when we reach my bike outside the apartment building.

“Your observational skills are unmatched, Miss. Connor.”

“Are you expecting me to get on the motorcycle?”

“Unless you want to walk the six miles to the park.”

“Why are we going to a park six miles away? There’s one right down the street,” she queries.

“That park isn’t nice enough for our picnic. The trash cans hardly ever get emptied and people don’t pick up their dog’s poop. It’s gross. Do you want to sit in dog poop, Natalie?” I ask with as much seriousness as I can muster. What I really want to do is burst out laughing.

“No. Of course not.”

“Then, yes, I’m expecting you to get on the bike,” I state flatly.

“Don’t you have a car?”

“No, Natty, I don’t have a car,” I say with mock exasperation.

  I see the panic in her eyes when I turn to face her. So, I grip her shoulders gently, and then brush my hands up and down her upper-arms as I speak, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Natalie. I promise.”

“There’s only one helmet,” she points out, in a last-ditch attempt to get out of riding on the back of my bike.

“Yeah, for you.” With that, I clumsily place the helmet on her head and swiftly fasten the chin strap, before she can protest any further.

“It’s a little big,” she says, as she wobbles her head back and forth in demonstration.

I laugh, unable to hold it back any longer, and hand her the backpack filled with our food and beverages.

After I get on the bike and start her up, I say, “Get on, put your feet on the pegs and hold onto me, tight.”

I can’t help the small shiver of excitement that runs up my spine at the thought of Natalie’s arms around my waist.

“Get on, Natty,” I demand when she stays motionless on the sidewalk. “Feet on the pegs,” I yell over my shoulder when she finally gets on the back. “Arms round my waist,” I tell her when she doesn’t make a move to hold onto
anything
.

She finally moves her hands to my abs, and all my muscles tense at her touch. I’m instantly aware of her smooth thighs gripping my hips and the thumping of her heart against my back.

This is going to be the best ride of my life.

* * *

It was the best and worst feeling. Having her so close, but still needing to be closer.

I think she was actually disappointed when the ride was over, despite her initial fear, and when we got off the bike and the helmet was removed, she was a wind-tousled mess of sandy-blonde waves.

Now, with my hands running through her hair to smooth it back in place, I give a small laugh as her eyes drift closed.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, eyes springing back open.

“You had helmet hair, but don’t worry, I fixed it,” I explain as my hands come to rest on her neck. Then I get a little lost in her eyes, as they look into mine.

“Oh, right. Thanks… Hey, Ryan?” she queries.

“Yeah?”

“Why are your hands still on my neck?”

Snapping out of the trance she has me under, I quickly move to take the bag from her shoulders, as I say, “I’ll carry the backpack. It’s heavy.”

“What the hell do you have in this thing, anyway? It weighs a ton.”

“It does not weigh a ton, stop being such a girl. You’ll find out soon enough,” I retort as I swing the backpack on one shoulder and take Natty’s hand.

It feels so...right. Holding hands like she belongs to me. And for a moment, I allow myself to pretend she does. I think she might be okay with that when I feel her small fingers clasp tightly between mine, as they intertwine with each other.

“Aren’t we going to use one of the picnic tables?” she asks, as I lead her past the last of the benches surrounding the parking lot.

“Nah, I brought a blanket. We’re having a real picnic.”

When we reach a large tree, offering shade from the hot sun, I look around to check that it’s the right setting for our date. Natalie isn’t fully aware it’s a date, but in my mind, it is.

Don’t judge.

After I’ve spread the blanket, we sit down, and I lay out the contents of the backpack.

“You got my mom and dad’s drinks,” she says, with amazement in her tone.

“Yeah. I only brought the one beer for me, seeing as I’m driving later, but you can finish the whole bottle of wine if you want. I’ve been wondering what you’d be like when you’re drunk.”

“Well, I don’t really drink enough to get drunk, so you’re out of luck,” she retorts.

“Bummer!” I say with a smirk before pouring some wine for Natalie, then opening the beer and taking a long sip.

When I finish my mouthful, I see Natty taking a chug of wine, like she’s dying of thirst.

“Jesus, slow down a little, Nat. I was just kidding about you getting drunk. I can’t have you wasted on the back of my bike.”

“Sorry, I just realized how thirsty I am. The wine tastes good on a hot day like this.”

“Here, I brought water, too,” I say as I throw her a bottle.

“Wow, you really thought of everything. And I now know why the backpack was so darn heavy.”

“I always come prepared,” I say with a wink that’s inappropriately laced with innuendo.

* * *

“So, I never really hear you talk about your friends. You must miss them? I’m sure they miss you.”

An indecipherable look passes over her features, and I’m thinking my question has made her uncomfortable for some reason, but before I can back-track, she says, “Not really.”

“You don’t miss them?”

“I don’t really have any friends to miss...or miss me,” she confesses quietly, before beginning to play with the food on her plate.

She never really talked online about her friends, other than Claire. Come to think of it, I never really saw her hanging out with anyone other than Claire when we were kids, but I assumed she would have met more people in high school after I left.

She looks embarrassed and it makes me hate that I brought it up. I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t have a whole group of friends who adored and missed her.