Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,92
else stands around in groups, chatting with one another. There’s hugging, squealing, and laughing. Brendan and Jillian break off to join some people across the room. I notice several heads turn and stare in the direction of Tate and me. It’s odd, but not surprising given what I now know about him. No one must have expected a grumpy shut-in like him to show up.
Tate, Natalie, and I find an open space near a wall on the far end of the gym. Tate offers to grab us drinks, then walks to the beverage table.
“I guess it’s just me and you holding up this wall, then,” Natalie says, elbowing the wall behind her. I laugh. “How are you feeling? After your surgery, I mean?”
“A lot better. Tate was so sweet to take care of me. I feel bad though that he spent so much of the holiday weekend in a hospital.”
She beams. “You shouldn’t. He was happy to do it.”
“Oh, and I’m sorry to hear about your flat tire last night.”
“It figures. The week after I get rid of Triple A to save money, I blow a tire.” She flicks her hand in the air. “Tate saved the day though and changed my tire in record time. My boyfriend, Eli, is putting on a new one tomorrow. I’m all set.”
“Is he coming tonight?”
She nods. “He had a work call when we pulled up, but he should be in soon.”
Once our topics for small talk are exhausted, we share a few seconds of silence.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been dying to meet you.” Natalie studies me like she knows something I don’t. “I’ve never seen him this happy with anyone. He actually laughs now. Like, daily. No one’s ever gotten him to do that before. He’s a totally different person with you.”
I do my best not to smile so wide. “I don’t know about—”
Natalie rests her hand on my arm. Her studied stare turns sincere. “I mean it. You’re beyond special to him, you know.”
I want to ask just what exactly Tate Rasmussen thinks is so special about me, but he’s back before I can utter a word.
“Here we go.” He hands me a cup full of ice and what I assume is either Sprite or 7 Up. “No alcohol, unfortunately.”
Natalie takes a sip. “Lucas Waller is hosting an after-party for our class at the bar he owns. Remember him? Aced all the AP tests. Now he owns a bar. Go figure. There will be copious amounts of alcohol there, I’m sure.”
I chuckle.
“What?” she says.
“It’s nothing. Just, listening to you talk is like listening to your brother. I love it.” I playfully knock my hip into Tate. He bites his lip, marring his widening smile.
“Really? I never noticed. How funny. I guess we’re twins after all,” Natalie says. “She’s observant. Definite keeper.”
She winks at Tate and he turns red yet again. Seeing how easily he blushes in front of family and friends makes my stomach flip.
Natalie turns to look around the room and waves down an in-shape man with dark hair and a golden tan. She introduces me to her boyfriend, Eli, and Tate shakes his hand. Before I can ask him polite introductory questions, a petite girl runs up to Natalie and pulls her into a jump hug. They both squeal, then excitedly chatter. An old classmate, I’m guessing. A handful of other people greet Natalie the exact same way over the next minute. Soon she’s pulled away along with Eli into a nearby group.
“See what I mean?” Tate gestures with his cup. “Everyone loves her.”
“She’s like a politician. Charisma emanates from her like perfume. Only with her, it’s genuine.”
The two of us lean against the wall and silently observe.
“Feel free to join her. Or Brendan. I’ll be fine here on my own,” I say.
“Nah. I’m good right here.”
“Isn’t there anyone you want to see?” I point to Brendan gesturing animatedly to a group of mostly guys, then to Natalie, who is surrounded by a gaggle of peppy ladies.
“The only person I want to see is standing next to me.”
He shoots me a side glance and faces ahead again. I can’t help but smile. After a minute of silently standing next to each other, I realize how calm and content I am. Witnessing Tate’s natural ease when he’s surrounded by the people closest to him is an utter pleasure.
“This is nice.” I look up at him.
“It is.” He gazes at me, affection in his stare.
Our moment is interrupted when I