I glance at him, surprised he even remembers that night let alone my date’s first name. He stares searchingly at my expression and I know he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. I force my gaze back to my plate so he can’t read the emotions in it.
“Right. D-bag Duncan.” Parker shoves another hunk of steak in his mouth.
“He’s not a d-bag. Even if he did puke in my favorite clutch and fail to ever call me again.”
“Well, it’s not exactly a surprise he didn’t call you,” Parker says.
My eyes lift to shoot daggers at my brother. “What the hell does that mean? It’s no surprise a guy wouldn’t call me back? Are you saying I’m not worthy of common courtesy? That any guy wouldn’t be lucky to date me?” My voice is icy.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sweet P, chill. That’s not what I meant at all.” Parker looks from me to Nate and back again. “I just meant I’m not surprised he didn’t call you, considering Nate gave him a black eye the day after the dance and told him to stay the hell away from you.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
He nods.
My gaze moves to Nate, who’s scowling at his plate. “You did what?”
“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Nate’s voice is cold. “Why are you digging up ancient history?”
“How did I not know about this?” I ask.
Parker shrugs. “I don’t know. Could’ve sworn you knew. Lila never told you?”
“No.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know either, then.”
I shake my head, torn between awe and mortification. “But…” I stare at Nate. He ignores me. “Why the hell would you do that?”
There’s a long pause before his eyes finally flicker over to meet mine. “He deserved it.”
“It was just a purse,” I whisper, voice shocked.
“It wasn’t just a purse.” Nate’s jaw clenches. “The next day I heard he was bragging about how he was going to be the first to….”
My eyebrows go up when he trails off.
He sighs. “The first to nail Phoebe West.”
I glance at Parker.
“It’s true,” he confirms. “Believe me, if Nate hadn’t gotten there first, I would’ve beaten the shit out of him myself.”
I sit there in stunned silence. “What a dick,” I murmur finally. “He never even danced with me, you know. Not once. Which was bad enough. Then he puked in my purse, which just added insult to injury. And now you tell me he was bragging in the locker room about nailing me?”
“It wasn’t actually in a locker room—” Parker starts.
“It’s a figure of speech!” I snap. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to ask Lila to set me up with him again this year! Did he think he could finish what he started ten years ago? D-Bag Duncan strikes again?!”
“He did what?” Nate asks, voice dark.
When I glance over at him and see the ominous look on his face, I quickly backtrack. “Nothing! Nothing.”
His eyes narrow.
“Please don’t kill him,” I whisper. “He may be a douche, but he’s my best friend’s older brother. And it was about a million years ago. It doesn’t matter.”
“You still think about that night?” Nate asks intently. “Still remember being sad, getting your feelings hurt?”
Maybe, but not for the reasons he thinks I do. I don’t dwell on Duncan when I remember that night — instead, I remember how in love with Nate I was at fourteen. How much I wanted it to be him, slipping a corsage around my wrist, leading me out onto the dance floor. But I can’t say that now. Not without sounding like some kind of crazy person.
“Do you?” he prompts.
“Sometimes,” I admit, shrugging. “But—”
“Then it matters.” His voice is intent. “Someone hurts you, it matters. Always.”
Staring into his eyes, so bright with passion, I have to remind myself to breathe. The moment stretches on with our stares locked together, lengthening into something heavy and hard to swallow. He shifts on his stool, I sway on mine, and for a crazy instant I wonder what would happen if I leaned forward and closed the distance between us right here during dinner…