The Cheat Sheet: A Novel

I get Nathan into the tent and pull him off to the side quickly. He is not the kind of man that’s easy to hide though. I’m basically sneaking a hulking bear into a tea party. Here, grizzly, wear this cute little hat and no one will notice! Everyone still notices. Heads everywhere are turning as we walk in, which means we have about thirty seconds before someone decides they need to be obnoxious and monopolize his time. So many people are already gathered here, professional athletes and celebrities galore. It’s an all-you-can-eat-buffet of people I like to stalk on social media. Can’t focus on that now though.

I link my arm through Nathan’s and guide him ten steps to the side of the tent entrance before pivoting us so his back is to the crowd and his chest is facing me. I’m hoping I’ll be able to give him at least a few seconds away from prying eyes. His gaze still looks sort of glassy, and those dark circles I noticed the other day have worsened. I can’t help but feel like we shouldn’t be here tonight. Nathan is exhausted.

“Hey.” I step closer and rest my hand on his chest so everyone knows this is an intimate conversation they shouldn’t interrupt. And also because, hello, I like touching him. He feels so solid beneath my touch. “Are you okay? Should we go home? It’s okay if you say yes.”

His eyes drop to my palm pressing against his firm chest, and he covers it with his hand. The contact is a jolt through my veins. It reminds me that I just kissed him. On the red carpet. In front of everyone.

It was so brief and full of onlookers that I barely registered it. And then, the second I pulled away, I felt disappointed. Not because it lacked sparks, but because I didn’t get a chance to pay attention to the sparks. I was too worried about the panic attack I think Nathan was having out there and focused on getting us off that red carpet before every photo in tomorrow’s gossip magazines showed Nathan looking like a deer in headlights. The tabloids would have had a field day coming up with lies to explain his expression: Nathan Donelson losing the fight against narcotic pills!

He breathes deep, and I feel his chest expand against my palm. “Sorry about that back there. I’m okay now.”

It’s so like Nathan to breeze over this. “Are you sure? It looked like you were having a panic attack.”

He grimaces and looks left, the sharp, strong corner of his jaw emphasized. “Nah—I don’t get those.”

I laugh because the man is dead serious. Like he’s some super breed of human that just doesn’t have mental health issues from time to time. Look out, science, we’ve found a man who never feels stressed!

“You don’t have to have an anxiety disorder to get a panic attack. Sometimes they can come on from too much stress, or overextending yourself, or—”

“Bree, I’m telling you, I’m fine.” Nathan cuts me off with a pleading voice. He really does not want to talk about this right now, and judging by the way his face has gone pink, I think he’s embarrassed. “C’mon. Let’s go have a good time.”

I nod, taking pity on him and his embarrassment. We can talk about all of this later when we’re in private. “Okay, let’s do this thing.”

Nathan takes my hand and turns us toward the room. That’s when I really look at the crowd for the first time, and now it’s my turn to freeze. This glitzy, glamorous party tent is stuffed with important famous people. Athletes from every sport. Actors and singers. I doubt there is a single normal person here. Correction: There is exactly ONE normal person, and it’s me.

“Changed my mind, I want to go home.” I let go of Nathan’s arm and take five retreating steps backward right into a giant standing poster.

I wish I could say I just bump it lightly and everything is okay. But no. It happens in slow motion. I feel the thin paper at my back, but my high heel gets stuck on the stand that’s propping it up. I feel myself falling backward and see Nathan’s eyes go wide and his mouth forms my name. His hands shoot out to grab me, but he’s not fast enough. I careen backward right though the poster and hear it rip right down the middle. On the bright side, I don’t fall to the ground. I somehow manage to stumble on my feet. On the dark side, I now stand in the middle of a nine-foot-tall ripped poster, and every eye in the event is on me.

Yep, I’m going to throw up. I turn around to quickly grab each side of the torn poster and stick it back together. And now I realize belatedly that this poster I have torn is a Goliath-sized image of a naked Nathan Donelson, and my hands are directly holding his hands…aka his hands that are holding the football that’s perfectly positioned in front of him to keep this photo PG-13. Realization dawns on me as I look around and find many similar posters of other athletes, all featuring one of their photos from the form issue. I then see a photo op station in the corner with a backdrop that reads “FORM ISSUE’S 10^TH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION!” There are fake illustrated muscles you can use as props. Cute.

Right. I’m face to thighs with Nathan’s blown-up naked form, looking like the biggest pervert in the room. Time speeds back up. I yelp and drop the poster. Naked Nathan floats in the wind as he separates and falls limply open, showing how I’ve completely ruined what was probably a couple-hundred-dollar poster. I hear several laughs behind me and a few oh nos, but mainly it’s heavy silence. My face is so hot it’s going to melt off my bones.

Nathan steps up beside me, wraps his hand around my bicep, and presses his chest to my back so he can lean down and whisper, “Are you okay?”

I shake my head in a few quick movements. “How quickly can you get me to a new continent?”

Nathan is still laughing at me during the elevator ride up to his apartment. He’s been chuckling ever since we left the party, and any time I think he’s going to speak, I hold my finger up at him. Don’t you dare.

All in all, the poster shredding wasn’t that big of a deal. Nathan—the enigmatic, sexy, life of the party that he is—easily turned the whole situation around to be framed in an endearing light. He faced the crowd and let his voice carry across the room with one of his trademark smiles. “So…I think my girlfriend wants to box this one up and take it home—can we get a little help with that?”

Everyone exploded with laughter and I did a little stage bow, and somehow, that made us the hit of the event. Nathan and I even posed beside the torn photo, and when I posted it, I added a caption that read: If only Tide pens could wipe out embarrassing situations. It got four thousand likes in the first hour.

The whole night, we barely got a moment to ourselves because absolutely everyone and their mother wanted to speak with Nathan and wish him luck in the playoffs. I didn’t mind. It felt good to hold his hand and be introduced to so many people as his girlfriend. There was also something deeply satisfying about seeing Nathan give everyone his business smile. It never reaches his eyes, and only I would know that, because now, he’s giving me his smile. The one I’ve seen since high school.

Nathan rips his tie from his neck and loosens the top button of his shirt as we walk through the foyer of his apartment. I kick off my heels and he tosses his coat and tie onto the entry table, and now it’s just us and the waves outside his window crashing onto the shore. I can breathe. A thrill trickles through me when I realize this time I’m the one walking through the door with Nathan after an event. Me. I was out with him in front of everyone, and…I loved it. Which is bad. Very bad.

How do I stuff this jack back in the box?

I freeze by the door, and Nathan keeps walking. It takes him a few seconds to realize I’m not with him anymore, and then he looks back over his shoulder with a fading smile. “What’s wrong?”

Oh, nothing much. Just having an internal freak-out because I’m realizing the full extent of how much I’ve wanted this life with you. No big deal.

“Nothing’s wrong.” My bare feet are backing up.

Nathan gives me a skeptical side glance. “Bree…”

My shoes are in the corner by the door, but I don’t have time to grab them. If I’m going to make a break for it, I’ve got to move fast. I turn around to bolt, but Nathan is on me in two seconds flat, taking my legs out from under me and scooping me up in his arms.

“No way. You’re not getting out of here that fast.” He carries me to the couch and deposits me on a cushion. He points a stern finger at me. “Stay. Nothing is different. We are completely normal.” Then he disappears into the kitchen to grab something.

The lights are still low when he returns, and I need someone to kick the high beams on because he looks too suave, too James Bondish in this romantic lighting with the dark ocean roaring in the background. And the way he looks at me, I feel like our friendship is a ticking time bomb. I just know I’m going to lose my best friend somehow.

Nathan’s shirt is untucked now and hanging loose. He stops right in front of me and tosses an unopened Starburst log into my lap. “I keep this for emergencies. I think this moment constitutes one.”

I smile down at my favorite candy, and my shoulders relax a little. How does he always know the exact right thing to do to take care of me?

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. Please be here when I come back.” His words are gentle and sweet, and for some reason, this shifts my mind back to the feel of his lips against mine.

While Nathan is gone, I close my eyes and try to remember every detail, but it’s too hazy. Like a delicious dream you wake up from and feel slipping through your fingers. Did that kiss even happen? Nathan hasn’t mentioned it once, so it must not have meant much to him. But really, how could it? It lasted maybe two seconds.

It meant something to me.

Nathan comes back into the room just as I shove a pink square into my mouth. He looks incredible in his suit pants and loosened dress shirt. My mouth waters, but not from the candy.

He sits down on the far end of the couch and smiles. “Better?”

I nod and shift the soft taffy to my right cheek. I’m a chipmunk who hoards pink Starburst. “Better.”

“Do you want to watch some TV? Pick up where we left off in that comedy special?” He’s already reaching for the remote and my gaze snags on his exposed, muscled forearm. I’m hyperaware of him in ways I’ve never let myself dwell on before.

The TV turns on and a comedian spouts off a joke about pancakes. Then, as if nothing in the world is different, Nathan’s hand wraps around my bare foot and pivots my whole body so he can pull my feet into his lap. I stare with my mouth hanging loose as his thumbs push in and glide up my arches. His strong, calloused fingers knead my sore feet with expert care, even going so far as to dip past my ankle and press into my calves. For as hot as my skin feels, his hands are somehow hotter. Like stones, fresh from a fire and melting my skin away.

All I can do is stare, blink, savor. He’s touching me in an intimate way that has never happened as friends before. But for how much of a living, breathing hot tamale I am right now, Nathan is not even focusing on the life-changing massage he’s giving me. He’s watching the comedy special, loose-limbed and relaxed. Yeah, no big deal. Are we just those kinds of friends now? Friends who occasionally date? Friends who snuggle? Friends who…

“Nathan, we kissed tonight,” I blurt. Cool, Bree. Cool. Nice and smooth.

Nathan’s hands freeze on my skin, and his brows fly up. He pauses the TV then swivels his gaze to me. I kind of wish he’d left it going so it would fill the uncomfortable silence, but now we’re alone with my statement and it’s flicking us both between the eyes.

“I’m surprised you want to acknowledge it,” he says, confusing me with that answer.

“Do you not want to?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. “I’ll talk about anything you want, anytime you want. We can even talk about how you destroyed my naked photo because you were so jealous of anyone else seeing it.”

I gasp and throw an orange Starburst at him. He laughs as it bounces off his bicep. “Not true! I did not destroy that poster on purpose! I didn’t even see it before my butt sliced through it! In fact, you could have warned me that we were headed to celebrate the birthday of the FORM ISSUE!”

He chuckles with his head falling back against the couch and lightly swats my shin twice like he does his thigh when he laughs too hard. “Your face was so priceless! Red as a stoplight.”

I put my hands over my cheeks, afraid they’re still glowing. “STOP! You’re so mean.”

He’s still laughing—shoulders shaking, stomach clenching. “I had no idea my nakedness would affect you so much. It’s not like you haven’t seen that image before. And it’s nothing compared to the rest of them from that spread.”

I give him a meaningful look, feeling like we’re tiptoeing toward something we shouldn’t but also desperately wanting to. “I…wouldn’t know.” I busy myself by trying to yank down the hem of my short dress to add some class to this setting.

When I look up, Nathan’s smile is curious. “What do you mean you wouldn’t know?”

I raise one shoulder. “I’ve never looked inside.”

“You haven’t?”

“Okay, well, you don’t need to sound so disbelieving. It’s true, some women can resist looking at nudey photos of you.” Just barely though.

“You haven’t even been the least bit curious?” His voice is doing something new. Something growly. Something that makes my stomach bunch and twist.

“No.” It’s a bald-faced lie. “Friends don’t see friends naked. It’s the most basic rule of humanity.”

Nathan’s long legs are sitting at 90 degree angles in front of him. Solid tree trunks taking root. He moves his arm to drape over the back of the couch, his fingertips ever-so-slightly brushing my shoulder as his other hand moves to rest on my ankle. His thumb moves up and down. Up and down. Up and down. But the most curious thing is the way his gaze shoots forward and he’s biting down on his lips.

“What?” I ask, feeling the earth shift beneath me. “What’s that face for?” I poke him in the cheek.

“Hmm? Nothing.”

“You’re the worst liar, Nathan. Seriously, I hope you never play poker or you’ll lose all your money. Spill it.”

His dark eyes slide to me. “You’ll wish I hadn’t if I tell you.”

My heart races. “Okay, well now you really have to tell me. In fact, I demand it.”

He lets out a deflating puff of air from his cheeks while rolling his head from side to side like he’s getting up the courage. “I’ve…I’ve seen you naked. There, I said it.”

For some reason, my natural instinct when hearing those words is to shoot to my feet and throw a couch pillow at him. “No you have not!”

Nathan’s laugh feels surreal. Like I’m dreaming. “I really have. It was an accident. You were getting out of the shower, and—whoa! Are you okay? Bree, sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

I am. I am one hundred percent going to pass out. Nathan Donelson has seen me naked and I had no idea! This is not okay. What was I doing? Oh gosh, please tell me I wasn’t dancing or something horrible. Maybe this is why he’s never made a move on me. He saw me naked and felt nothing!

Nathan takes my arm and tugs me down beside him on the couch. And here’s the problem with this whole situation: He’s my best friend who I always turn to in situations like this, so even though he’s the one I’m embarrassed around, he’s also the one whose chest I bury my face in for comfort. His long arms engulf me and he secures me to him. I’m anchored. His cologne washes over me, and now I know this was a mistake. He’s not going to let me go.

“See, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d freak out, and I was afraid you’d take your key away from me.”

“Good idea. I want my key back!”

“Not a chance. Bree, we can be adults about this.”

“No we can’t! We’re not adults about anything—why would you expect that now? I’m so humiliated. Did you linger? Did you stare? How much of a look did you get? And…what…angle?” I don’t want to know any of this, but I’m also desperate to know. Like a train derailing. You can’t look away from something like that.

Nathan sort of growls, and I feel his head tilt back like he’s looking at the ceiling. “Okay. No, I didn’t linger, because I’m not a perv. And…it was sort of a 360-degree angle because you walked out of your bathroom and then…I don’t know, forgot something you needed in there and spun around to go back in.”

Well, let’s call it, folks. Bree Camden’s time of death: 10:30 PM. Died of humiliation overdose.

I groan and whimper in succession, burying my face harder into his chest. I will burrow in here and never come back out. Sure, I’ll be attached to him forever, but at least he’ll never get to look at me again.

His hand lightly strokes down the back of my hair. “I gotta say, I don’t take you for a walk-around-naked kind of a girl. You don’t even wear bikinis to the pool.”

“I was probably waiting for self-tanning lotion to dry.”

Nathan is quiet for so long I think he fell asleep. I peek up at him and see his glazed-over eyes staring into the distance. And then I realize what’s happening.

I clap loudly in front of his face. “Oh no you don’t! You don’t get to picture me naked!”

“Sorry.” He blinks, looking sheepish. “You mentioned the self-tanner and then…never mind.”

I clench my teeth. “This is completely unacceptable.”

His smile turns compassionate. “Bree, I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it better? Stop talking about it? Tell you what I thought when I saw you?”

“NO! HELL NO!” I push out of Nathan’s arms and stand. I’m pacing like a panther in a cage at the zoo. An idea immediately strikes me, and I don’t give it a second thought before blurting it out. “You can take off your clothes and even the score.”

Nathan blinks up at me. Stunned.

I mean, I get it. I didn’t expect myself to say that either. But it’s a solid idea! He got to see me naked in a less-than-favorable situation, and now I get to see him naked in the same sort of situation.

He swallows. “Or you could just go grab one of those magazines and finally take a look.”

“No.” I shake my head, a defiant toddler. “You’re perfectly lit in those, oiled, and—let’s be real—probably airbrushed. You’ll look like a god among men, and that’s not fair because you saw me in harsh light and bobbing around.”

He tries to stifle a smile. It makes me more angry. I do one quick up, up, up motion, telling him to get his smug ass off the couch. He groans, hangs his head down, and then slowly rises to his full height. Good gracious he’s like a tower. Jet black eyes meet mine from where he’s standing three feet away, and he arches his brow. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s a great idea! Get to it.” My eyes probably look feral. Like a rabid squirrel you don’t want to run into at the park.

Nathan doesn’t blush like I hope. He doesn’t look insecure or scared about what I’m going to find under his clothes. He just begins unbuttoning his shirt. His hands are steady as he works, and my legs are shaking like those of a newly birthed fawn. With every undone button, I question my sanity in requesting this, but I don’t tell him to stop.

Three buttons down, and I see a triangle of tanned flesh. Four buttons. Five, and now there’s a slight sprinkle of hair.

He pauses with a teasing glint. “You want a cigar or something? Maybe put your feet up?”

“Shush. This is fair.” That’s the only reason I’m doing this. The only reason.

Nathan’s fingers reach the last button, and then he slides his shirt down off his shoulders and tosses it on the couch. I’ve seen him without his shirt so many times before, but this is…different. His shoulders are cut granite, and his collarbones are like two crowbars pressing against his golden velvety skin. Shadows paint around the ridges of his abs and obliques, making them look like stepping stones down to a perfectly tapered waist. His Adonis V disappears into nicely pressed suit pants held up by a matte black belt. He is muscles, tendons, veins, and aching handsomeness. Gorgeous in a way no human should be. Magnetic and electric at once. He draws me in and will electrocute me if I touch him.

Who was I freaking kidding? Lighting doesn’t matter one bit for a body like Nathan’s. He could be under sharp fluorescent doctor’s office lighting, and my tongue would still be lolling out the side of my mouth.

His black eyes flare as he undoes his belt, and now I’m feeling woozy. I didn’t think this through. What happens after he’s naked? My mind fills in that blank for me, and the sound of his belt sliding out of his pant loops sounds sharp to my ears. My pulse hammers in my neck, and I watch every detail of his sinewy flesh moving as he throws the belt next to his discarded shirt. I’m suddenly aware that I want this too much. That my hands are gripping the fabric of my dress. This is going to change everything, and I WANT that. I want Nathan like this. Not friendly. A little dangerous. A little taunting. A lot sexy.

I want to take a step closer and run my hands down his abdomen. Wrap my arms around his neck and let him hold me against his masculine form.

Nathan pauses with his hand on the button of his pants, and then when he flicks it open and I can see the band of his black briefs, reality crashes into me. He’s really going to do it. He’s going to get naked right here in the living room, enacting the fantasy of every woman in America (including me). The air around me is burning, and before he can make another move, I shoot my hands out in front of me.

“Stop!”

He freezes, eyes slicing up to me, lips parted in surprise and pecs flexing from how I startled him. He doesn’t say anything, and my breath comes out in a tremble. I shake my head. What was I thinking? I can’t do this. It would be jumping-out-of-a-plane-without-a-parachute-level life-changing.

I’ve got to backtrack.

“Kidding!” I blurt out like this was a gigantic prank the whole time. Ha-ha! You totally fell for it! I laugh and turn away from Nathan just so I can let out a big puff of air. I have 2.1 seconds to salvage this before it becomes weird for everyone. I let this night get the best of me and am starting to lose sight of the plan.

Stay strong, Bree. You’re dazzled by the fake relationship.

With my back to Nathan, I mentally repeat my secret rules for a successful friendship.

1. Keep those feelings wrapped up like an egg salad at a church potluck—they’re not actually good for anyone.

2. Nathan is a natural-born flirt. Don’t embarrass yourself by misinterpreting his personality for flirting.

3. Don’t look at his bare skin or you will burn alive.

I halfway broke that last rule, and I’ll suffer the consequences from now on. I gather all of these feelings buzzing around my body like a hornet’s nest and put them in a jar. I screw on the lid. Seal it with Lock Tight just to be certain no stragglers get away. And then I turn around. Oh my gosh, I need to hold my hand in front of me so I can’t see his body.

“So…kidding?” he asks, and the boyish uncertainty on his face nearly kills me.

“Yeah!” I laugh a little too loud. “Oh my gosh, no way would I actually let you get those pants off. I don’t need to see all that. Just wanted to mess with you and see how far you’d go.”

“Pretty far,” he says with an amused tick of his lips. It makes my stomach turn inside out like a reversible jacket.

I stare one more moment at all that he is and then clear my throat and head for the door like a woman who still has all of her faculties intact. I need to start carrying around smelling salts.

“Okay, well this has been fun! But whew, look at the time. I’ve got to be up early in the morning to bake cookies for the week! Early bird catches the worm!”

“Bree?” Nathan asks with a drawn-out amused tone. “Are you okay over there?”

I stop just briefly to flash gloriously wide eyes at him. HOLY MOLY his body…it’s sculpted clay—soft, taut lines cut over every muscle to perfection. “Moi?” My hand covers my heart. “So okay! Why do you ask?”

I’m now performing the flight of the bumblebee, buzzing around the room and collecting my things. Shoes. WHERE ARE MY SHOES?! I turn three circles and look like I’m chasing my tail.

Suddenly, Nathan’s big hand covers my shoulder. I drop away from his touch like I’m in The Matrix avoiding bullets. He looks completely shocked as he silently holds my heels out to me. “Well, glad you’re okay.” His tone conveys that I’m fooling absolutely no one.

I take my heels and quickly slip one on while hopping on one foot. Nathan’s hand shoots out to wrap around my forearm to steady me. I want to whimper/cry/laugh because I feel extra sensitive to his touch. Once my heels are on, I start wobbling away. Wobbling because I have put my heels on the wrong feet. I’m a little girl who snuck into her mom’s closet and tried to sneak off with her best heels. No time to stop and fix them though. I gotta get out of here.

“It’s been so nice to see you as always, bestie!” That was a strange thing to say. “Good luck with the game this weekend! I’ll call you to—”

I feel his hand slide into mine and he tugs me back. I yelp as Nathan spins me around, a dangerous playful glint in his eyes. “Just a minute, bestie.”

I hold my breath, only three—maybe four—inches from his bare chest. My palms ache to flatten against his pecs. But then his chest disappears from view as Nathan drops down to one knee. OH MY GOSH IS HE PROPO—

His hand wraps around my ankle and lifts it slightly off the ground. Then my heel gets slipped off—the tale of Cinderella played backward. “You’ll sprain your ankle like this.” He lowers my bare foot to the ground then lifts the other ankle. That heel gets peeled off, and then the correct one gets slipped on. This time his hand lightly taps the back of my calf, signaling for me to lift my other foot again—and if you’re guessing I’m deceased at this point, you’re right.

Nathan finishes putting my heels on the correct feet, and I notice something odd before he stands back up—he stares at my legs for two breaths. In those two breaths, WILD ideas I have no business imagining race through my head. He looks down again and then stands, but by the time he rises to his full height, I’m already turned toward the door and racing out, promising him I’ll call tomorrow, and maybe also that I’ll bake him a cake? I don’t know what that was about, but clearly my ovaries feel like they owe him something.