Cousins Confessions

Chapter 3

The idea of meeting Nate in person after our late-night conversations filled me with equal parts excitement and dread. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal—just the three of us hanging out, like old times. Except it wasn’t like old times. Not with the weight of everything unsaid between Nate and me.

“Stop overthinking it,” Mary said as she drove us to Nate’s apartment. “It’s just a movie night. Totally harmless.”

I shot her a look, but she was too focused on the road to notice. “You’re the one who said I should be careful,” I reminded her.

She shrugged. “I still think you should, but come on, Becca, you’re acting like this is some secret rendezvous. It’s not.”

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but they did little to calm the storm brewing inside me. By the time we arrived at Nate’s apartment, my palms were damp, and my heart was racing.

Nate opened the door with his usual easy smile, the one that made my stomach do that annoying little flip. “Hey, ladies,” he greeted, stepping aside to let us in.

The apartment was warm and inviting, with the faint scent of cedar and something spicy—cinnamon, maybe? I glanced around, noting the neatly arranged furniture and the faint glow of string lights along the wall.

“Nice place,” Mary said, plopping onto the couch like she owned it. She patted the spot beside her, but before I could sit, Nate gestured toward the kitchen.

“Want something to drink?” he asked.

“Sure.” I followed him, feeling Mary’s eyes on us.

“Still a tea person?” he asked, already reaching for the kettle.

“Yeah.” I smiled, appreciating how he remembered the little things.

As he filled the kettle, I leaned against the counter, trying to act casual. “This is nice. It’s been a while since we all hung out.”

“It has.” He glanced at me, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. “I’m glad you came.”

What am I doing? I thought as I stared at him, his dark eyes holding a warmth that felt dangerously inviting. This is just a friendly get-together. Don’t make it more than it is.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn’t ignore the way my pulse quickened whenever he looked at me like that, or the way my heart ached with the memory of what we used to be.

I forced a laugh, breaking the tension. “You’d better not have picked a terrible movie,” I teased, grabbing the mugs he handed me.

He grinned. “Don’t worry. I have impeccable taste.”

Back in the living room, Mary had already commandeered the remote, scrolling through Nate’s streaming options with zero shame. “You’ve got a decent selection,” she said, finally settling on a rom-com that had both Nate and me groaning.

“This is payback for making me watch that terrible action movie last time,” she said smugly.

As the movie started, I found myself hyperaware of Nate’s presence beside me. The couch was spacious enough for all three of us, but somehow, his arm kept brushing mine, sending little jolts of electricity through me. I tried to focus on the screen, but the dialogue blurred into a haze of laughter and stolen glances.

At one point, Mary got up to grab a snack, leaving Nate and me alone. The silence was deafening, filled with all the things we weren’t saying.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” I replied, too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He tilted his head, studying me in that way that always made me feel exposed. “I don’t know. You just seem... distracted.”

Because you’re sitting so close I can feel the heat of your body, I wanted to say, but instead, I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Before he could press further, Mary returned, her arms full of chips and candy. “What’d I miss?” she asked, plopping down between us and effectively breaking the tension.

As the night wore on, I found myself caught in a tug-of-war between desire and guilt. Every time Nate laughed, every time our eyes met, it felt like we were dancing on the edge of something dangerous. But then I’d glance at Mary, oblivious to the storm brewing, and I’d feel the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders.

He’s married, I reminded myself for the hundredth time. This is wrong.

And yet, when the movie ended and it was time to leave, I couldn’t help but linger. Mary was already halfway out the door, chatting about plans for the weekend, but I hesitated, turning back to Nate.

“Thanks for tonight,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

“Anytime,” he replied, his gaze steady. “It was good to see you.”

As Mary and I drove home, she chattered on about the movie, oblivious to my inner turmoil. I nodded and laughed at the right moments, but my mind was elsewhere, replaying every glance, every word, every moment of unspoken tension between Nate and me.

When I finally crawled into bed that night, I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess. This can’t keep happening, I told myself, but even as the words formed, I knew I didn’t want it to stop.