Chapter 13: Attic (Emma's POV)

"Goodnight," I sang, going up to my room after we had dinner. I grabbed my pajamas and went into the bathroom where I changed and brushed my teeth, basically just did everything I do every night. I opened the door and grabbed my hairbrush and brushed through my hair before putting it into a braid. I was humming 'Say my name' by Destiny's Child when I stepped out of the bathroom and into my room. 

I crawled into bed, humming the song, smiling to myself for absolutely no reason, and I grabbed my phone off the nightstand to check Instagram when I noticed shuffling outside the window. There's this one tree. This pretty bushy tree. Which is moving. On its own. My eyes widened as I sat upright, not really knowing what to do. 

Should I go check it out? Should I just ignore it? Should I call someone for help? 

I stood up and ran over to the window, peeking down where I saw someone, definitely a guy, climbing up the tree. I narrowed my eyes, looking at the person carefully. I pushed the window open and stuck my head out. "What the hell are you doing, Nathan?!" I whisper-yelled. He looked up, nearly falling off. "Don't fall off!" I gasped. 

"Fucking hell," he mumbled, climbing up higher. He stopped at the branch closest to my window and sat on it, hesitating to lower his weight on it. "Hi," he grinned. He's drunk. He only grins and smiles at me like that. That cute, kind of lopsided grin. 

"Nathan," I inhaled, "What are you doing here?" 

"Do you have an attic, I really need- whoa shit!" he yelled, almost falling off. 

I leaned out, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in my hand and also clamping my hand over his mouth. "Shh!" I hissed, "What do you need?" I asked, slowly lowering my hand. 

"A place to-" hiccup "Sleep tonight," he mumbled. I pulled back and watched him carefully, slowly pulling my hand away. But then he started falling again. I clicked my tongue, grabbing onto his shirt. 

"Why are you here? Have you asked Brandon?" I whispered. More importantly, why does he need a place to sleep tonight? Did something happen with his dad? They must have had a fight or something. But what about? He wasn't drunk or anything like that. 

"I crash at Brandon's all the time," he pouted, "I think his parents don't like it now." I sighed, looking at him, scanning him up and down, from head to toe. "I'll just... I'll go back if you don't have an attic," he mumbled. 

"What is it with you and attics?" 

"Or a basement. That's where I always crash at Brandon's. He has a bedroom thing going on there," he chuckled, smiling and looking all giddy. 

"Well, the attic is full of boxes right now and the basement... is creepy, I'm not going down there," I mumbled. 

He sighed, "Okay." His shoulders slumped and deflated, he was now frowning. 

"But I've got a guest room." 

He looked up at me, shaking his head slowly, "I can't take a guest room, what if your parents get mad at you?" 

I rolled my eyes, "That's the least of my worries right now. Why don't you come inside, my hand is getting tired, and then I'll see what I can do for you, okay?" I slowly let go and moved back, creating room for him. 

He grabbed onto the windowsill first and then crawled through, dusting his hands when he stepped in. "Whoa, nice room," he mumbled. 

"Thanks, but we're still settling in," I said, closing the window and locking it shut. 

"Maybe I can sleep on the boxes," he giggled. He giggled. It was kind of cute. 

"Then they'll fall through the ceiling," I said sarcastically. 

"You're right," he nodded, actually believing me. I forgot how gullible drunk people are. I looked around my room to see if I had something to help him, or at least sober him up so he can tell me what happened. 

"What happened?" I'm pushing my luck anyway. "Why aren't you staying at your own place?" I asked while grabbing a pillow off my bed for him. 

"I fought with my dad," he sighed, collapsing onto my bed. 

"What about?" I asked, sitting beside him. 

"He thinks I drink too much," he sighed again, "Smoke too much." 

"Well, you do," I said bluntly. 

"I know but... I didn't even do all that today," he whined. 

"You say that as you show up to my house drunk," I chuckled. 

"I just had a little bourbon," he said absentmindedly. 

"Does your dad know you aren't in your room right now?" 

He shook his head, looking up at me. "If you want me to go, just tell me." 

I sighed, watching him. I felt a little bad for him. His dad didn't seem very friendly and I don't think he ran into a pole while pole dancing last night either, earning a cut and bruise to the cheek. They had to have fought. "No, it's okay, you can..." I took a slow breath, running my hand through my hair, "You can stay. But you're sleeping on the floor, you're lucky it's carpet," I said, grabbing a throw blanket from my closet and handing him the spare pillow I grabbed onto earlier. 

"That's fine, I'll probably be gone before you wake up anyway," he said while melting onto the floor, sprawling onto it. 

"Are you feeling okay? Can I uh, can I get you anything? An Aspirin? Some water?" I asked, scratching my brow. 

"No, thanks though," he sent me a small smile. We fell into silence. I stared at the floor while thinking. 

"Maybe I should..." He's already asleep. "Give you an Aspirin for the morning," I sighed. I walked to my bathroom and grabbed the medication bag from under the sink, I kept it with the first aid kit. I took out the pack of Aspirin and left it on my nightstand for him. I wrote a little note too. 

'You're welcome for the Aspirin, you'll need it.' 

I crawled back into my bed and lay on my side, facing him. I sighed, tucking my hair behind my ear while watching him. He looks different when he's sleeping. So much more peaceful. Less stressed. Less angry. Less anxious. Less sad. Less troubled. 

"What is your deal, Nathan Sterling?" I asked myself before closing my eyes and forcing myself to sleep. 

My alarm rang the next morning at 7 and I turned it off, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I sat up. I stretched, looking where he lay last night. It was now an empty spot. I looked to my side and saw that the empty half of the bed had the pillow I gave him and the throw blanket folded up neatly. I turned to my nightstand where he left the Aspirin, one pill missing from the packet and a note. 

'Thanks for letting me stay- N' 

That's all it said. 

While driving to school, I wondered if I should ask him about it. If I should ask sober Nathan what happened. But then I decided against doing that because maybe he doesn't want anyone knowing that he stayed at mine. Maybe not even Brandon. So, I won't be the one bringing it up but if he does, or Brandon does, then we'll see where the conversation shall lead. 

I climbed out of my car, locking it but let out a gasp when someone grabbed me and pinned me against the car. "Jesus, you scared the crap out of-" 

"Don't tell anybody about last night, do you hear me?" he asked, his voice low and somewhat angry. 

"Nathan, I-" 

"Just don't tell anybody. Not even Brandon, got it?" he whispered. 

I scanned his face for any hints as to why he was angry. I had the feeling he wasn't angry with me, he was just... taking his anger out on me cause there's nobody else for him to do that on. "I wasn't planning on it," I whispered, "I'm not gonna tell anyone. You can crash there anytime," I said. 

We're lucky the parking lot is still mostly empty and we're early, or this would be everyone's daily dose of drama and possibly the only thing they talk about for a while. 

He slowly let go of me and took a step back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I uh, I shouldn't have done that," he said, avoiding my eyes. 

"It's okay," I said, rubbing my wrists. Those were the kind of the only things hurting. I watched him silently while feeling the bruising kicking in. 

He clicked his tongue, taking a step forward and taking my hands, looking at my wrists. "God, I'm sorry," he sighed. 

"I told you, it's okay. You lost your shit for a second, happens to the best of us," I shrugged. 

It made me angry when they started hurting. But Nathan really is the exception. He's more fucked up than the rest of us partly because of himself and also because of his circumstances and past. 

I need all the patience I get when it comes to him. Because I want to help him, I think he's nice. He's just been through more shit than most of us. At least, that's what I think.

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Chapter 13

I have a feeling this book is gonna be a long one, cause it's gonna take some time getting everything in order and finding everything out and of course, getting them together.

he's such a closed-off character, I haven't really written one like him before but I wanted to try it out.

let me know if there's anything you wanna know about the characters

next chapter: pop rocks

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