My buzzer sounded and I flinched. ‘Got to go, Dad. Nate is here.’
We said good-bye quickly and I hung up as I hurried to the door to let Nate in. I was standing tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for him. The sounds of his footsteps in the concrete stairwell seemed to match the rhythm of my heartbeat, and by the time he appeared in my doorway I was just about ready for passing out.
Nate reared back at the sight of me. ‘Christ, you look as though you’re about to faint.’
I gulped. Loudly. ‘Nervous over here.’
He shut the door behind him, grimacing. ‘What the hell for? It’s just me.’
I glared at him.
‘Okay. Be nervous.’ He strode past me, shrugging out of his jacket. He threw it on the couch and then walked into the kitchen to take two beers out of the fridge. I caught the one that he tossed to me. Uncapping his beer, he gestured to me with the bottle. ‘To calm your nerves.’
When he didn’t say anything for five minutes – five very long minutes – I sat down on the arm of my couch and took a sip of beer.
‘Okay, talk me through it.’ Nate suddenly spoke up and I almost coughed on my beer at the seeming loudness of his voice in my little flat. ‘What happens exactly when a guy you’re attracted to speaks to you?’
Trying not to be any more of a dork than I already was, I fought back the blush that was determined to stain my cheeks. ‘I get tongue-tied.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m very tempted to insert a sarcastic reply here, but I’ll just go with a simple shrug.’ I shrugged.
‘Don’t give me that “I don’t know, and if I did, I wouldn’t need you” bullshit. Why do you get tongue-tied?’
I was really attempting not to get pissed at him. That wouldn’t be a good start. Clenching my teeth, I answered as if it was obvious – which it so was – ‘I don’t have a lot of confidence.’
Nate considered me a moment. ‘In yourself? In your looks? In your sexual experience? What?’
‘Do you know how mortifying this is?’ I scowled at him.
Clearly annoyed, Nate narrowed his eyes at me. ‘I’m not here to make fun of you. I’m here to help you.’
We were quiet again as I gathered together the confidence to be honest. After taking a shaky sip of my beer, I looked at the floor and told him quietly, ‘You already know I lack confidence because of my minimal sexual experience, but … I also just don’t … don’t feel sexually attractive.’
His silence drew my gaze to him. He was looking at me incredulously again.
‘What?’
He put his beer down and planted his palms on the counter like he meant business. ‘Let’s start with how you don’t feel sexually attractive.’
I gulped. ‘All right.’
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’
I jerked back at his curse, confused by the angry tone of the question. ‘What?’
‘Get up,’ he replied sharply. ‘Come on, get up.’ He rounded the kitchen counter and walked past me.
I got up slowly, wondering what the hell I’d done wrong.
‘Follow me.’
Follow him … all right. My legs trembled when I realized I was following him into my bedroom. With my heartbeat pulsing in my throat, I was unable to speak as I stopped in my doorway and gazed at him.
He stood before my full-length mirror and gestured to it. ‘Tell me what you see.’
I swallowed past the heartbeat. ‘Nate …’ I took a step back and my movement shot him into action. Lightning-quick, he had hold of me and was tugging me back into the room with him until he’d maneuvered me in front of the mirror, while he stood looking into it over my shoulder.
‘Tell me. Trust me.’
Taking a deep breath, I let my eyes focus on my reflection, sweeping them over my face and then down my body and back to my face again.
‘Liv?’
‘I see … I see an average-looking woman with …’ I shrugged, so embarrassed it wasn’t funny. ‘With fl-flabby arms, a belly pouch, and a fat ass.’
When my answer was met by silence I finally gathered the nerve to look up into the mirror to Nate’s reflection. He was glowering at me again. ‘Anything good?’
I glanced back at my face. My eyes were, as always, the only thing I liked. They were striking eyes, inherited from my dad. Unusual, pale hazel, with so many flecks of gold they appeared golden in a certain light. We both had dark lashes that set the color off. We’d been told on more than one occasion, and by quite a few folks, that our eyes were exotic, almost feline. My dad worked his eyes. They were flinty and perceptive in his ruggedly handsome face. On my average face they were the only thing to enliven my features. ‘My eyes,’ I whispered softly.
‘That’s a given, babe. What else?’
Tense, I searched for an answer and then said carefully, ‘Okay, my skin. I have good skin.’