CH. 33

As she fell asleep that night, Willa's half-conscious thoughts drifted to Cyn. Perfect Cyn who always knew the right thing to say and what to wear. She couldn't help but feel like she'd let Cyn down. It felt like Stockholm Syndrome; the victim feeling beholden to their captor. She shifted in Nate's arms, trying to get comfortable, but no matter what she tried, she couldn't.

Finally, giving up, she wriggled out of his hold, which was no mean feat when his heavy arm was draped across her waist. In the silvery light of the moon, she tiptoed her way to the bedroom door and slipped out, holding her breath so she didn't wake him up.

She gingerly pulled the bedroom door shut behind her, wincing when it emitted a sharp creak. She could only relax her stance when she was in the living room. Willa flicked on a table lamp next to the couch and by the dim light, she curled up against the armrest. Her phone lay on the table next to the lamp, begging her to pick it up and stalk Maryam some more.

It was stupid, but she almost missed Cyn, too. Was this hindsight? Rose-tinted lenses? She sighed, bunching her legs together and drawing them to her chest. Nate's cat peered at her curiously as it padded across the floor, tail swishing with an alertness that it had no business having at this hour of the night.

As if it knew that she needed the comfort, the cat shimmied up the couch and plopped into her lap, the vigor of his tail calming when she obligingly stroked his back.

"Can't sleep?"

Willa glanced up, smiling ruefully when she saw a sleep-tousled Nate standing in front of her. "I tried to be quiet."

"I know." He yawned widely and smoothed down the top of his hair, groaning when it refused to lay flat. "I felt the mattress move."

"Sorry."

"It's all right." Stifling another yawn he came over and sat down next to her. "Wanna talk about it?" At her surprised look, he reached out and tapped the side of her head. "I can practically hear you thinking," he said gently.

"Sorry," she apologized again.

"Don't be sorry." Nate laid his hand on top of her knee. "Just tell me how I can help."

She didn't want to tell him. Her relationship with Cyn and Maryam was pre-Nate. Anything she told him would just sound like childish, petulant whining; a grown woman reciting a list of grievances going back years. But his searching eyes convinced her.

"I'm having second thoughts about the book."

"Why?" Puzzled, he removed his hand, placing it in his own lap.

"It's like," Willa began, not sure where to start, "I really want it more than anything, but at the same time, I just feel so...so ugly about it. Like I'm doing something wrong. I don't like feeling like that."

"Why does it feel wrong?"

"My friend, Cyn, the one I mentioned disagreed with my story?" At his confirming nod, she continued. "She thinks the story's main character is based on her."

Please don't think Cyn and me are like Paige and you, she silently willed.

"Is she?" Nate was still looking at her, his face sweetly concerned, but there was a faint hint of iciness in the two words.

"She thinks so," Willa replied.

Nate fell silent, his hands fidgeting in his lap like he wasn't sure where to put them. Maybe he wanted to take Willa's hand but didn't know how to.

Willa wished she was brave enough to reach out and take his hand, instead.

"That's why you told them you weren't friends anymore?" he said finally, cocking his head to the side like he was trying to make sense of it all.

"Not quite," Willa hedged. "It's complicated."

"Friendship usually is."

He didn't say anything else, just sat there in silence, waiting for her to say or not say whatever she needed to. That was what she loved about Nate, his innate ability to let the other person move at their own pace.

Willa froze. Wait. Loved? It was too soon to even be thinking about love, but as she felt it take root in her chest and flutter with dizzying, maddening flap of its wings, she knew that was exactly what she felt for Nate.

"You ever have a friend who, no matter what they do, their shit smells like roses?"

Nate grinned. "Yeah. That friend is usually me."

For a moment, Willa just stared at him. Of course it was. "So maybe you won't quite get it," she started to say, but Nate shook his head.

"I'll get it," he said, voice soft. "Just because I've been on the other side of things doesn't mean I can't empathize." After a pause, he added, "Or try to, anyway."

Bolstered, Willa plowed on. "Well, in college, my best friend and I met someone like that. She—her name's Cyn— latched onto my best friend, Maryam, and before I knew it, I was the odd woman out."

"Sucks," Nate muttered under his breath, his eyes still on Willa. In anyone else, it would have been disconcerting, the way his eyes just didn't blink for so long, but Willa knew it was only because Nate was giving her his full, undivided attention.

"Yeah," she agreed. "It did suck. It continues to suck." She pursed her lips. "And it's kind of like Maryam didn't even mind it, because instead of one person who wanted to be her friend so badly, now she had two. No one ever said it, but I was the one getting pushed out of the circle. It always felt like this thing that hung between us, even though it's not like they said anything to my face, you know? It was just like a given that if someone had to go, it was going to be me."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Was I going to beg them for the respect they should have given me, anyway?" Willa replied, tilting her head to regard him thoughtfully. "Isn't that the epitome of pathetic?"

Nate folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the other armrest, one leg tucked under him while the other folded upwards, his knee pointing towards the ceiling. "I don't know. Isn't it kind of pathetic to just let it go on for so long and not have the balls to say anything?"

"Ouch," Willa said, but she wasn't really offended. His words were harsh, but she knew them to be true. They were the same words she had been beating herself up with for so long.

"Sorry," Nate said with a shrug, but his tone didn't sound like it.

"I suck at talking about this," Willa murmured. It was too hard to translate years of history into a short and sweet summary for Nate.

"You're a writer. Words are your forte." Nate closed his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep," Willa warned, poking his kneecap.

"I won't," Nate promised, eyes still shut.

"Well, basically," she continued, "when I wrote the book, Maryam said the main character reminded her of Cyn. At the time, Cyn didn't seem to care. And honestly, I didn't think there was any similarity." Here was where it got hinky. Her breath hitched; she didn't want Nate to read any parallels between his situation and hers where they didn't exist. She hadn't stolen anything from Cyn.

"But Maryam kind of got Cyn to see her point of view and from there on, it just spiralled. Cyn started this huge deal between us all, saying how I stole her life story, and Maryam didn't even defend me. It kind of seems like ever since then, everything Maryam did was to stir the pot more, kind of like to say, 'I'm passive aggressively going to be on Cyn's side and hope you won't notice!'."

"Willa." Nate frowned. "Can I stop you there?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah. What's up?"

"It's just..." Nate trailed off. "Do you want me to just listen to you, or do you want me to have an opinion?" He shot her a rueful grin. "I've gotten in trouble with girls before about offering an unwanted piece of advice."

"Please, go ahead," Willa said, words ending on a relieved laugh. When he had interrupted her, she had been bracing herself for his anger, his betrayal, his calling it quits to whatever new and wonderful romance was brewing between them. "Believe me, my life is kind of fucked up right now, so I'm in no position to turn down advice if it's offered."

"Okay," Nate said. "Don't hate me, okay?"

Like I could, Willa thought. Out loud, she said, "I won't," even though she wasn't sure it was a promise she could keep. Whenever people started out with "Don't hate me", it was obvious they were going to say something potentially offensive.

"Well, you know how I started to read your book, right?"

Willa nodded.

"It's a good story."

Nate was choosing his words carefully, she could tell. His face was serious and there was no playful hint of a smile on his lips.

"But?" she asked. There had to be a but. There were some sentences that just couldn't be said without hearing the unsaid but at the end of them.

"But I think you're telling the wrong story." He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. "I think you're the better story, Willa. Whether you intended to base Hanna on Cyn or not, I don't think she's the character you want to write about."

"So you're saying..." Willa blinked at him. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Nate leaned forward, a whole sea of stars in his eyes. He looked at Willa like the answer was obvious, she just had to reach out and grab it. "Your story is what you need to tell."

"Now I know you're not serious," she said, heart pumping incredibly fast. "You can't be."

There were a million reasons why. She had promised Jackie she would edit her story within the next week. She wasn't interesting enough to tell her own story - she'd never been to Africa, she'd never saved a child from a burning house, she'd never overcome anything particularly heroic or tragic. Willa felt like a secondary character in her own life, not the heroine.

"Why not?" The stars still hadn't faded from Nate's eyes. "Wi, from everything you just said about your friends, I think that's the story that people will want to hear. The one they'll relate to. The story you have to tell, because it's the one that means something to you."

"I don't know," said Willa, but she could hear it in her voice; the reluctance was gone, replaced by something else. Something she couldn't be sure of.

Something a lot like inspiration.

"Then take it from me," Nate whispered, reaching out to take both her hands in his larger ones. "I'm a published author. I know what I'm talking about."

A giddy laugh escaped her. "Pulling rank already, huh?" she teased, but Nate wasn't finished yet.

"Willa, trust me." His eyes bored into hers earnestly. "It's a hell of a story."

And the weird thing was, Willa realized, was that it kind of was.

Author's Note: What do you guys think about Nate's relevation? Is he right? How pissed do you think Jackie will be if Willa hands her a completely different story?

Are you guys happy that Willa finally told him? Or does anyone out there think that she didn't have to? xD

Were you happy with his reaction? I think he stayed true to character - supportive, kind, and understanding. Albeit in his own blunt way xD In any case, was anyone disappointed that he didn't flip out about what Willa told him?

Thank you so much for reading! Please don't forget to vote and comment :)