First Bitten (The Alexandra Jones Series #1)
First Bitten: Chapter 13

You know the old saying ‘You get what wish for’, well I’m getting it, and more.

I asked Nathan to talk to me more. I asked him to be nicer to me, to act like I exist and, true to his word, he’s followed through. But somehow in all of this, we’ve also ended up spending more time together, quite a lot in fact. I think I’ve seen more of Nathan in this last week than I did in the first four weeks of my being here.

Sounds great, doesn’t it? Well it’s not because I’ve discovered I do actually like being around him. He makes me laugh without the guilt. He makes me forget all the bad stuff. When I’m with him, I forget what I now am. Oh God, I’m starting to sound like a slushy Mills and Boon. Okay, basically the problem is … I like him. More than I should.

I didn’t even realise it was happening until it was too late and now I can’t seem to switch it off. I’ve tried, believe me, and the worst thing about it is that this is my own doing. I’ve got no one to blame but myself.

All I want right now is for him to turn back into the bastard he was before so I can stop feeling this way.

My emotions are all over the place. My head is a complete and utter mess, worse than it was before.

All Nathan has to do is look at me and my insides fall to pieces. So much so that I have to remind myself just to breathe most days.

I wish there was some way I could turn these feelings off, turn the part of me off that’s turned onto him.

I realised four days ago.

I was in the kitchen with Nathan. I was sitting at the table reading a magazine, just like I’m doing now, but instead of watching Jack cook, I was watching Nathan. He was frying bacon. The kitchen stank but in a really good, unhealthy greasy way that only bacon can do. He was talking about the new Arctic Monkeys’ album. I was half-listening while reading the magazine. It was one of those Sunday newspaper supplement magazines and there was a piece on relationships, you know the ‘How to Keep Your Man Happy in Ten Easy Steps’, and my mind flickered. I started to think about how I’m never going to have that problem, how I’m never going to be in a relationship again. I felt sad. Then I thought about Eddie. And as those thoughts filtered through my mind, Nathan turned toward me. He knew I hadn’t been listening to him, I could tell from the look on his face. He smiled and his green eyes sparkled under the lighting. He was still speaking but I couldn’t hear him anymore. My world tilted on its side, then realigned, but everything was different. It was a like a light switch went on inside of me, and I had no way of turning it off.

And now I have no idea how to act around him. I feel like I’m back at school, and he’s the cool mysterious popular guy and I’m the awkward gawky teenager with a red hot crush. I constantly feel uncomfortable around him, which is hard going considering I’m pretty much always with him. I’m trying my best to pretend that nothing has changed, trying to pretend I don’t feel this way. It takes every ounce of strength I have just to get me through the day.

I don’t think Nathan’s noticed the difference in me. Well I hope he hasn’t. God, could you imagine how he would react if he ever discovered I was feeling this way about him? He’d probably laugh, say something hurtful, or run screaming in the opposite direction. Or all three combined.

So, basically, he can never know.

I just need to get these feelings under control and work on getting rid of them, fast.

I’ve thought a lot about why I’m feeling this way about Nathan and I’m putting it down to the fact it’s because he’s being nice to me now. Add in the fact he did after all save my life, and you’ve got yourself a good set of ingredients for one hell of a serious crush.

And I guess in a way I feel connected to him. He’s the only other living person who was there when my old life was ripped away from me.

I have, however, come to the definite conclusion that my crush on Nathan has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve seen him pretty much naked, that he has a great body, that he can in fact be quite sweet when he lets his guard down, that he is all mysterious and deep, and that he runs around saving people’s lives like some kind of bloody superhero.

Well, okay, maybe they do add to it just a little bit, the illusion of him.

But any psychologist would tell you that grief can make people do and think things they normally wouldn’t. Not that I know any psychologists, but I’m sure I’m right. I think I read it in Cosmo or somewhere that grief can make people act out of character, do things they wouldn’t normally do, like have feelings for someone they wouldn’t normally have.

Don’t get me wrong, I do think Nathan is good looking, and yes, if I saw him in a bar I’d look twice, well maybe three times, but he’s not someone I’d ever consider to be boyfriend material. He can be arrogant and callous, he has messy hair, and his clothes look like they’ve never seen a washing machine, let alone an iron. He visits a razor once every blue moon – okay, I’ll admit I do like the stubble, but he just looks unkempt all the time – and he has this no care, no-nonsense attitude about everything, whereas I care about everything, right down to the minute detail.

But now it seems all the things I saw to be a problem in Nathan are the things pulling me in. I’ve gone from intensely disliking the guy, to wanting to rip off his clothes in a matter of days.

And yes, I know just how very screwed up that is.

I know nothing will ever come of this crush. I don’t want anything to come of it, so it’s pointless to think about the necessaries. But really someone needs to tell this to my raging hormones. Seriously. Or at the very least sedate me until it passes.

I know exactly how Nathan views me. He sees me as your average, run of the mill, freak of nature. And yes, he’s being nice to me but that’s only to keep the peace, nothing more. He will never see me otherwise because it’s the truth, I am a freak, and like Sol said, they stick with their own kind anyway…

“You want another coffee?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you wanted another coffee, love.”

I look up from the magazine I’ve been pretending to read for the last five minutes, and over at my current half-full cold cup of coffee. “Oh, erm, yes please, Jack.”

Jack comes over and I hand him my cup. He glances down at the contents and smiles. Taking it over to the sink, he rinses it out.

Jack’s cooking dinner. I offered him my help but he wouldn’t hear of it, so I decided to keep him company instead. Great company I turned out to be. All I’ve done is analyse my feelings for Nathan and sit here on nerves’ edge wondering when he’ll be home. He’s been out all day at some animal auction. I really want to see him, and I really don’t. It’s insane. Four days ago I wouldn’t have cared less where Nathan was – to be honest, the further away from me he was the better – but now I literally have to mentally prepare myself to see him.

This is an absurd situation that I’ve created in my own mind and it’s the only place it currently resides. I intend to keep it that way.

Yes, I know I’m ridiculous and seriously messed up.

“You okay?” Jack enquires, mild concern lacquering his voice as he pours us both a coffee. “You seem miles away.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I say with way too much enthusiasm as he walks over and puts my cup down in front of me. He takes a seat opposite.

I can feel my face starting to heat. I’m so crap at this covering up business. How Nathan doesn’t know I fancy him is beyond me. I may as well walk around with a sandwich board, saying ‘I heart Nathan’, ringing a bell.

“Anywhere good?” Jack asks. He takes a sip of his coffee. I can see he’s eyeing me closely. Jack should be a detective. Really. The man can sense bullshit at fifty paces.

“What?” I evade.

“Where you were?”

Oh well, I was just off daydreaming about your middle son, you know, the moody, sexy blonde one, goes by the name of Nathan …

“No not really.” I shake my head, pressing my lips together, desperately trying to conceal the truth.

Jack puts his coffee down and leans back in his chair. He pulls his cigars out of his shirt pocket and lights one up. I feel like I’m under a spotlight. I’m starting to sweat. My palms have gone clammy. I rub them surreptitiously on my jeans.

“I’m looking forward to dinner,” I say, grasping for normality.

Jack smiles. “Yeah, me too.”

Actually that was a lie. I’m not looking forward to it at all.

Cal and Erin are coming. It’s the first time I’m going to meet Cal’s wife and the mother of his unborn child, and I can’t say I’m overjoyed at the prospect. I have her painted in my mind as being as scary as he is. Well, she’d have to be to put up with someone like Cal; either that or she’s a saint of some kind.

I know Cal was reluctant to bring Erin with him tonight and that’s because I’m here. I could tell from the way the conversation went that he had with Jack. I wasn’t meaning to listen in, honestly, but with this hearing of mine, it’s sometimes hard to tune out.

Cal doesn’t like me, and I mean he really doesn’t like me. He avoids me like the plague when he’s here during the day working, and makes no secret of his feelings about me. Mostly I just keep out of his way. I may not like him but they are his family and this is the place where he grew up, his home, and he should feel comfortable here. I’m only a visitor, not a permanent fixture, and I really need to remind myself of that, and regularly. I can’t get comfortable here.

From what I can tell – well, after asking Sol – Cal and Erin used to come around for dinner really regularly, before I arrived and disrupted everything, and I think this is Jack’s way of trying to inject some form of normality back into their lives.

I pick my coffee up, blow on it and take a sip. Jack’s being uncharacteristically quiet and it’s unnerving me.

“Are you sure I can’t do anything to help.” I nod in the direction of the kitchen.

“No, it’s all done, thanks love. Just the lamb to go in in a few minutes.”

I take another sip of my coffee and rest the rim of the cup against my lower lip.

“Has Nathan ever told you he was in the army?” Jack says out of the blue.

He’s sussed me. My stomach ties into a thousand knots. I move the cup away from my mouth. “He did, well Sol did, and I asked Nathan about it.”

“Yeah, Nate’s never been one to blow his own trumpet.” He smiles fondly to himself and takes a puff on his cigar. The smoke billows up into the air. “Did he tell you about all those people he saved?” he asks, holding his cigar between his teeth.

The knots tighten further. I put my cup down. “Briefly.”

“He’s a hero, my boy. Eight people he saved. They were on duty, him and his best mate Craig. They were walking down the street through the market. Nate stopped to talk to some local kids, Craig kept on walking. There was a suicide bomber right there in the middle of the market, real close to Craig. Craig spotted him, knew something was wrong, but he was too late. The guy blew himself up for whatever godforsaken cause he thought he believed in. Craig was technically dead for a short while but Nate got him breathing again. Then he spent the next hour until help arrived searching through the rubble pulling people out. He saved eight people that day. One was a kid of about ten. His mother was dead, though. Nate tried to revive her, but it was too late.”

There’s a lump in my throat that won’t go down.

Jack flicks the ash from his cigar into the ashtray. “Forty-one people died in that blast. It would have been forty-nine if it wasn’t for Nate. But even though he saved those eight people, he still blames himself for the ones he couldn’t save, especially the boy’s mother. It’s one of his bigger regrets,” … pause … “but not as big as the night he saved you.”

The skin on my face prickles. “Wh … what do you mean?” The words wobble out of my mouth.

He rubs his face. “He hates that he didn’t get there in time to save Carrie.” He pauses again, almost like he’s collecting his thoughts so as to say this just right. He looks directly into my eyes with his steely blue ones. “But mainly, he hates that he didn’t get there in time to save you.”

I touch my hand to my face and realise there’s a tear running down my face. I discreetly brush it away. “He did save me.” My voice sounds inept.

Jack shakes his head, gently. “No love, not in the way he wishes.”

I feel sick. Another tear rolls down my cheek. I don’t bother to wipe it away. “Why are you telling me this, Jack?”

“Because I care about you. You’re lovely girl, you’re like one of my own now, and you’ve had to endure way more than anyone ever should in their lifetime, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again. I know Nathan. He’s a good boy but he can be hard. He doesn’t really get … close to people. He can hurt them, a lot, without meaning to. It’s just his … way.”

I stare at Jack, at a loss for words.

He stands up and stubs his half-smoked cigar out in the ashtray. “Best get the lamb in the oven or we’ll all be going hungry tonight.” He tries to give me a lasting smile, but it doesn’t work.

Jack knows I have feelings for Nathan and he’s telling me to quit now because Nathan would never be interested in me, because of what I am. He’s trying to save me the hurt and embarrassment. The mortification drenches me. Even though I already knew all of this, it still doesn’t make it hurt any less. I feel so stupid and pathetic, and weak.

I want to get up and leave but I can’t; I’m frozen to this chair. Pride has me stuck. Jack may be right about my feelings for Nathan but if I get up and leave, I’m just confirming to him that’s he is right, and I can’t do that. All I have left is plausible deniability.

So, instead, I sit here, torturing myself, desperately trying to hold onto my dignity, as I once again attempt to read my magazine.

But for a long time all I can manage to do is read the same sentence over and over.