When Lizzy mentioned a 'present' waiting for me in my room, I never stopped to wonder how that was possible, given we had been together the whole time. I loved receiving gifts, and perhaps that excitement dulled my sense of logic, making me overlook the impossibility of the situation.
As I approached the window, I expected to find a broken branch or maybe a bird perched on the sill. But never— not even in my wildest dreams—did I expect to see him hanging from the ledge, a single rose clutched in his mouth and a sheepish smile on his face.
"Nick?" I gasped, my heart racing as I struggled to process what I was seeing. Was this a hallucination, or was he really there?
No, it couldn't be real. There was no way he could have made it past the tight security—or even known where I lived. My thoughts spiraled until he lightly knocked on the window, confirming he was as real as the day itself.
How... how was this possible? I wondered, confusion washing over me. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, yet here I was, living it.
Snapping out of my shock, I quickly rolled down the window. "Are you crazy? How did you get here? And why on earth are you hanging out of my window?" As cool as it looked, my bedroom was on the third floor, making his presence both baffling and reckless.
Reckless, because he could fall, and even more dangerous if my dad caught him sneaking into my room. I needed to get him inside and figure out what he was doing there before anyone else saw him.
Grabbing his sturdy arms, I helped him into the room and closed the window behind us, my heart still racing from the thrill of the moment.
"You better start explaining yourself, Nick," I whispered urgently, trying to keep my voice low to avoid attracting attention. As I turned to face him, my breath caught in my throat. He was here. Really here—in my room, standing tall and dashing as always. Being with him felt different in this space; it was more intimate, more real.
The air was charged with a mix of excitement and nervousness, as if the room itself sensed the tension between us. His presence brought back a flood of memories—shared moments and laughter—and suddenly, all the emotions I had buried deep within me rushed to the surface. I missed him so much; it felt like decades since I last saw him.
His piercing black eyes locked onto mine, revealing a blend of guilt and desperation, and memories of our last encounter flashed through my mind. The lies he had woven, the betrayal I felt—it all came rushing back, leaving me torn between staying and running away again.
But I couldn't. Not again.
"What are you doing here? No, how did you even get in?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"Liz and—"
"Of course it's them," I interrupted, sarcasm lacing my voice.
So this was the 'gift' they had been talking about. I should have suspected something when Carrie had insisted on getting out of the car just as we reached the estate, claiming she needed to check something.
It all clicked into place—the secretive whispers, the furtive glances. They had plotted this together, and while it secretly made me happy, that wasn't the point right now.
"Why are you here?" I asked, a resigned sigh escaping my lips. I had envisioned this moment, had wanted to hear him out, but now that he was standing right in front of me, words eluded me.
"I wanted to see you." His voice was thick with a mix of longing and regret, and I could feel my resolve waver.
"Why?"
"Because I miss you so much." My heart skipped a beat.
There was a boldness in his voice, a daring fire in his eyes that made me forget how to breathe. I missed him too—so damn much. I wanted to say it, but I couldn't allow myself to be vulnerable. Clearing my throat, I tried to speak as firmly as I could.
"Message received; now you can leave." But deep down, I yearned for him to stay, to hold me tight and let our emotions consume us once again. The silence that followed was deafening. Guilt and pain marred his expression, and I found it hard to look at him. It was clear he had never faced a moment where he had to explain himself or apologize.
"You can leave the same way you came in," I said, turning toward the door. But he quickly grasped my arm gently, stopping me.
"I came here because I've been dying to apologize for my mistakes and to explain how things really were." His voice trembled with sincerity, and I could see the genuine remorse in his eyes. Despite my reluctance, I felt a flicker of compassion.
Sighing, I pulled my arm from his grip and crossed my arms defiantly.
"Which part?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Which part are you going to apologize for and explain?"
"Everything," he answered without hesitation.
"And tell me why I should waste my time listening to you?"
"Because I need you." My heart drummed in my chest at his words.
"Alright, I'm waiting." I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, my eyebrows raised in challenge.
"It's a long story, so you might want to take a seat," he suggested, prompting me to raise an eyebrow.
"Can I just get a summarized version? If you're not aware of our situation, let me remind you that we don't have all the time in the world. My family could barge in at any moment."
"If it's your family you're worried about, don't be. Carrie and Lizzy will distract them," he assured me, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
My gaze narrowed at his newfound confidence, making me want to push him out the window. Wasn't he supposed to look broken, sad, and guilt-stricken?
"I don't care. I don't want to be stuck here with you any longer than necessary. So, a short version is what I'll take." My voice was thick with frustration and anger. A flicker of pain crossed his face, but I tried not to let it affect me.
"Please, Mandy. I'm really sorry for hiding so much from you, and I want to make things right. I don't want to keep anything from you—just let me give you everything." My heart skipped at his words.
"Just let me give you everything." Those words echoed in my mind, stirring a tumult of emotions within me. They were just words, but they left me a little breathless. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I pushed away from the wall and made my way to my bed, sitting down.
"Alright, but I want you to start with your ex." I could hardly bear to say the word, and the thought of being just a rebound made me want to throw him out the window again.
"You have a nice room," he remarked, catching me off guard and momentarily distracting me from my anger.
I glanced around, suddenly self-conscious about my space. It wasn't a typical girl's room—it was more of a nerd's sanctuary. The walls were adorned with posters of my favorite poems and quotes, and my shelves overflowed with books of various genres. This room reflected my love for literature and intellectual pursuits, a part of me I had always cherished.
I quickly shook off the momentary distraction. "Tik tok," I reminded him, and he smirked, taking a seat on the couch in front of me. My eyes narrowed again, annoyed by how good he looked in my room.
The evening sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust particles that danced in the air, lending the room a dreamy ambiance. I felt a twinge of irritation at how effortlessly he seemed to fit into my carefully curated space.
"Where do I start?" he mused, looking off into the distance. "Her name was Natalie."
Did I ask for her name? Why does he still remember her?
"I was a playboy back then. I never believed in commitment, just flings with girls—"
"Okay, I don't think I need to hear all of that," I interjected. He promised to tell me everything, but I didn't expect to get every tiny detail. Giving me a sheepish smile, Nick scratched his head. In that moment, he looked surprisingly cute, shedding the manly façade I was used to and revealing a more vulnerable side. It was unexpected, yet oddly endearing.
"I broke a lot of hearts, not realizing karma would eventually catch up with me. The karma turned out to be the new girl at our work station. She was beautiful, cold, and mysterious, exuding an air of confidence that intrigued everyone." Of course, that kind of girl was his type. I rolled my eyes inwardly.
They say men are drawn to the new and challenging, and she definitely fit that description. Her presence infused the office with excitement and unpredictability, making everyday interactions far more interesting. She knew how to have fun, and every man wanted her attention, as if she had a magnetic pull that captivated those around her.
"Despite her allure, she stayed professional and focused on her work, leaving us all the more curious." He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I even went so far as to swap seats just to sit next to her. It was thrilling. She was also God-fearing."
Wow, what a complete package!
I leaned in, eager to hear more. Jealousy simmered beneath my curiosity, but the writer in me couldn't resist the allure of a captivating story unfolding before me. I found myself visualizing how I could weave this narrative into my own writing. I was lucky to be privy to such intriguing real-life tales, all within the span of a single day.
It's fascinating to think that the stories we create and the films we watch are often inspired by real events, just with a twist. Like how my mom had to endure heartbreak to find her soulmate, while Nick believed it was fate that brought Natalie into his life. Well, it was fate, but not necessarily a happily-ever-after kind of fate.
"We worked hard to take on more projects together, and it was a serendipitous moment when we realized our paths had crossed long before we even knew it." I raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as he continued.
"It turned out we went to the same school when we were kids, but I transferred not long after she enrolled."
Now this was definitely a twist of fate. I almost wished for popcorn to fully savor this unexpected revelation. It was amusing to think that Nick genuinely believed they were meant to be, simply because their childhood paths had crossed.
In a way, such coincidences made it easy to believe in fate.
"She changed me," he continued, a distant look in his eyes. "I couldn't see anyone else but her. I fell so deeply for her that she consumed all of me. I never imagined love could blind a person to the point where everyone around you could see what was happening except for you."
"What happened?" I prompted, sensing the gravity in his voice.
"There was an opportunity I found online for a female architect in Switzerland. I showed it to her, and she was thrilled, deciding to apply for the position. We both thought it was the perfect chance for her to pursue her dreams and explore a new country. So, being the dutiful boyfriend, I took care of everything—from her passport application to the visa process."
"You were okay with a long-distance relationship?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
Of course he minded, but her happiness was his priority. How envious. But that's when the invisible blindfold began to slip, and Nick started to see the cracks in their perfect facade.
His innocent Natalie was not so innocent after all.
"Imagine my shock when I saw her birth date while finalizing her documents."
"What? How old was she?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
"She was thirty-two."
"And how old did she tell you she was?"
"Twenty-three."
"Whoa! Did she really look that young? Did you ever confront her about it?"
"She didn't look a day over twenty-five. I never confronted her directly, but I felt a growing sense of betrayal, wondering what else she might be hiding," Nick replied, sadness lacing his voice.
"It was when my doubts began to multiply that I started noticing inconsistencies in her stories and behavior—the way she'd take calls in the bathroom, secretive meetings, and evasions when I asked questions. What broke me the most was when the friends I trusted finally opened up and revealed the truth they'd been hiding." He let out a laugh, one filled with bitterness and disbelief.
"They revealed that she was not mine alone. Even the guys hanging around me had fun with her." Nick's voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt, leaving me speechless. I couldn't find the words as I tried to process the depth of his pain.
Imagining his heartbreak, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The weight of betrayal must have been crushing, shattering his trust in those he once considered friends. I could relate—having been stabbed in the back while people smiled in my face.
"I don't know if it was heartbreak or my ego that hurt more," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But either way, it polluted my ability to think clearly. She had already resigned from work, and when I couldn't find her at home, I went to confront her at church."
My mouth fell open in disbelief.
"And high, mind you." He emphasized this detail, as if trying to convey the depth of his emotional turmoil. I grimaced, picturing the scene. The humiliation for her must have been unbearable.
"Let's just say I regretted doing that. Even though she lied to me, seeing her in tears and humiliation in front of her fellow church members didn't satisfy me at all. I wanted her to feel pain, but not like that." I could hear the remorse in his voice, a clear indication that he had hoped for personal vindication, but witnessing her public disgrace only deepened his guilt and regret.
I patted the space beside me, motioning for him to sit. He obliged, and we lay back, staring at the ceiling. Hearing how his ex treated him filled me with anger toward her. I understood that he had his flaws, but when did two wrongs ever make a right?
"I drowned in alcohol—drunk day in and day out. I missed work and got into fights. My life spiraled out of control, and I couldn't see a way out of the darkness I'd created for myself. My supervisor caught wind of what happened, but not wanting to lose such talent, he consulted with HR and gave me three months of unpaid leave." At least he had a thoughtful supervisor looking out for him.
It was clear that moving on wouldn't be easy for him, and he loathed the person he had become. So when he got a call from our neighbor, he answered without hesitation, hoping it would mark the beginning of something new.
"Then you showed up," he said, a fond smile spreading across his face. I could feel his gaze on me while mine was fixed on the ceiling. "You were so cute, funny, and clumsy, and you got riled up so easily." My head tilted toward him, eyes narrowed in disbelief.
"Hey! Who are you calling cute?" I exclaimed. Was that how he had seen me all this time? A clumsy little thing? I scoffed, redirecting my gaze to the ceiling.
"You don't like being cute?" he asked, his playful tone making it hard to stay annoyed. I could sense the mischief in his eyes, tempting a smile from me, but I fought it. Why had I even let him onto my bed?
"I don't mind being cute; it's just the way you say it sounds like you see me as a clown!" I shot back, sarcasm dripping from my words. His laughter echoed, warm and infectious, but suddenly, panic washed over me. I turned quickly, covering his mouth with my hand, desperate to muffle his laughter before anyone overheard. The last thing I needed was someone walking in on us in this compromising position.
"Don't be so loud," I whispered, glancing nervously around the room. But then, the audacity of him! He licked my hand, his eyes sparkling with amusement. My face flushed with embarrassment, and I jerked my hand away, shooting him a glare that didn't quite mask my irritation.
"Seriously, Nick!" I hissed, trying to suppress a smile despite the situation. "We're going to get caught!"