No, that's wrong!

no one really knew how you and nate ever became friends. honestly, you didn’t know either. you just remember being alone one day in the third grade, and the next, nate was by your side.

wherever you went, he went. and vice versa. he was there when your childhood dog passed away, when you got your braces, and when you first got your heart broken by a boy in your art class.

coincidently, that same boy got his nose broken by nate the next day.

however, things began to change when you both started middle school. nate got angrier, and his temper was easily set off. he had always been short-tempered, but just an accidental bump on the shoulder would make him rage out. but it wasn't until the seventh grade, the night of your thirteenth birthday, that you discovered the reason for all of his temper tantrums.

the party had died down by this point, all of the classmates your mom forced you to invite had left. there was only one guest left. the only guest that mattered in your eyes.

‘brand new eyes’ by paramore played softly on the brand new cd player gifted to you by your parents. nate sat on the edge of your bed, while you were perched in the corner of your room on your bean bag chair. nate’s barely spoken all night, which isn’t uncommon, but there's something different about his silence. there's a tension that’s bubbling inside him, and you've never been one for confrontation, so you decide it’s best to wait for him to open up.

“dad’s cheating on mom,” he says. his words are sharp and quick. straight to the point. he sounds so serious that it makes your gaze snap up from your nintendo ds to his sitting form.

“cal’s cheating on martha?” you question, and he nods in confirmation. “how do you know?”

“i saw it. on videotape.”

“does he know that you know?”

he shakes his head. “i don’t think so.”

“do you know who he’s cheating with?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, picking at a loose thread on his ripped jeans. “it’s just… random men. all of them.”

“do you know what you're gonna do?” you ask, voice soft.

nate looks up from his lap and to the corner, you're not there. when he looks to his right, you're sat beside him, a concerned look in your eyes.

“i don’t know,” he repeats. he continues that phrase until the tears swell and bubble over. without a second thought, you awkwardly wrap your arms around his shoulders. he stiffens, unfamiliar with such a gentle touch. but this is coming from you. his best friend and only stable thing in his life now.

he wraps his long arms around your waist while simultaneously dropping his head on your neck. his wet tears drip down and soaken your shirt, but you don’t say anything. you just hug him tighter.

that was the first night you ever saw nate jacobs cry.

seventh grade quickly finishes, and eighth grade comes and goes. it's the last weekend you both have until your first day of highschool. for the past year and a half, you and nate have only gotten closer. you never brought up that night again, but you always made it apparent that you were open and ready to talk about it if he needed to.

nate had snuck out of his house and into your room, a common occurrence all summer. you once asked why he never just came through the back door like you suggested. “i know you like the mystery of it. bet it makes you feel like the main character in those dumb, romance books you read,” he replied, a cheeky smile on his face.

truthfully, it did make you feel that way, but you would never admit it to him.

the two of you laid shoulder to shoulder on your bed, staring up at the stars you hung up when you were in the second grade. they never really glowed, and you were probably too old to still have them up, but there was a part of you that wanted to hold on to any of the remaining remnants of your childhood.

“are you scared?” you whisper into the quiet room. nate doesn’t answer you for a good few seconds that you almost believe he’s fallen asleep.

“of what? high school?” he finally asks in response.

you nod even though he can't see you do so. “yeah, are you scared for the first day?”

he hums, fully considering the question. after a while, he replies, “nah, not really.”

“really? why not?”

he shrugs. “it's just more school. besides, it's all kids we've known since elementary. they're all losers and dicks.”

more silence passes between the two of you until you ask another question. “do you think we'll stay friends throughout high school?”

nate turns his head to look at you, brown eyes wide like you just said the craziest shit he’s ever heard. which, in a way, you kind of had. “are you serious? what kind of question is that?”

you shrug before meeting his eyes. “i don’t know, i feel like it's a valid question. you're going to try out for football and i’m just gonna kind of exist. what if you forget about me?”

he scoffs, lightly flicking you in the middle of your forehead. “it's a stupid question. we're gonna stay friends in high school. and i’m sure as shit not gonna forget about you. you don't have a choice, you're stuck with me.”

now flash forward to junior year, both you and nate are just as close as before. after joining the football team freshman year, being quarterback and then easily becoming team captain the following year, he would still find time for you.

throughout the week, he would have you sit on the bleachers during his practices, always keeping a watchful eye on you. if he noticed that any of the guys on the team tried to flirt with you? those same guys would have to endure whatever punishment nate decided to put them through. 

he’d sit with during the breaks, purposely bugging you while you would do your homework. you'd roll your eyes, muttering under your breath for him to shut up. he wouldn’t say anything in response. he’d just flash you his signature smirk, before wrapping his sweaty arm around your shoulders.

and every friday night, he’d save you a seat on the front bleachers, the one right behind the benches for the players. his eyes would find yours, and there would be a certain sparkle in them that only you would notice. after every touchdown he scored, he’d smile and discreetly point at you. he was always making sure that you were watching him, seeing him in all his greatness. and at the end of every game, he would ignore all of the praise from his team and fellow classmates. instead, he would head straight towards you, hugging you and spinning you around. these little things made you feel special. like he only cared for you.

but it made people look at the two of you weirdly, especially cassie howard, one of the cheerleaders. both you and nate had known her since fourth grade. you always had a sneaking suspicion that cassie had a crush on nate, who didn’t? he was the star quarterback, the king of east highland, everyone either wanted to fuck him or be him. so of course people didn’t understand that someone like him, would be with a girl like you. he couldn’t give less of a shit, anyways. they’re all just losers and dicks, as he liked to say.

nate liked winning, hell, he thrived in it. but always having you in this bleachers, knowing that he had all of your attention for just a few years? that gave him more satisfaction than anything else.

recently, though, you hadn’t been showing up to any of his games. you promised you would come to them, like always, but now it is nearing the end of the season and you haven’t been to any of them minus two.

it's not like you were completely blowing him off. no, you'd never do that. he'd get a text from you during practice, a few hours before the game.

“i have to cover a shift at the store, i’m so sorry ☹️”

“i can't make it again, i have a ton of homework due tonight, but i promise i’ll make it up to you”

“don’t hate me, but i got assigned to tutor dylan in my english class, so i won’t be there. i hope u have an amazing game tonight, tho ! <33”

nate could never hate you, and especially not when you gave him reasonable excuses for not being able to show up. but he hated dylan. god, he couldn’t fucking stand that guy.

sophmore year he tried out for the football team. spoiler alert: he didn’t make it because he sucked. after that, it was like he had some personal vendetta against nate. in all of his years of living, dylan was the first person to ever get under nate’s skin like this. he once caught nate vaping in the school bathroom and immediately snitched on him.

lucky for nate, he got off with only a warning. unlucky for dylan, it was found out later that week that he was one of the top plugs in the school. and who do you think gave the principal that tip?

after that, nate had finally gotten dylan off his back. but, now, here he was again. and this time, he was after you.

“i can't believe you're fucking help that guy,” nate says to you during one of your weekly movie nights.

you look over at nate. “helping who?”

“that guy from your english class. dylan, isn’t it?” he asks, voice dripping with a false sweetness.

“yeah, he says you know him. apparently he tried out for the football team last year?”

“yeah, i know him. i know he fucking sucks and is a dick.” he turns his head away from you, focusing his eyes on the tv that’s currently playing ‘superbad’. he honestly hated the movie, but it made you laugh. and he loved to see you laugh.

you take notice of his stiff posture and the way he’s now avoiding your eyes. it wouldn’t take a genius to know he was mad, or at least a little upset. “nate, what’s wrong? why are you bringing up dylan right now?”

he shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest like a child who was just yelled at. he even has a slight pout on his lips. “’m just saying. i don’t get why you're helping him. he's a dick, like i said.”

“it’s not like i chose to help him, nate, i was assigned to do so,” you retort.

“and you couldn't say ‘no’?” he asks with a scoff.

by this point, the movie is long forgotten. the sounds of mclovin arguing with seth and evan are drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears out of anger.

“no, i couldn’t!” you exclaim. “me tutoring him is my grade! it could even get me excused from my english midterm!”

nate finally looks at you, eyes wide at your raised tone of voice. you never yelled like that, especially not at him. but he quickly masks his look of shock, returning back to his usual, cold gaze.

“so that's what this is about? you just want to escape midterms? you haven’t been to any of my games, you do know that, right?”

“i’ve been to two,” you argue.

he throws his hands up into the air with an exasperated sigh. “right, because that’s so much better.”

“nate-” you begin to say, but you cut yourself off by rubbing your face. “can we please not do this? not tonight? this is our one night where we can be together and hangout just like old times. and i don’t wanna ruin it by starting a petty fight over a guy like dylan.”

nate clenches jaw, ready to argue all over again. but when he meets your eyes, he sees the pleading in them, and all of his fight melts away. “alright, yeah, fine. ‘m sorry. i just… be careful, okay? i don't trust him and i don't need you getting hurt.”

nearly a week has passed since that night. the morning after, nate had picked you up for school with your coffee order and your favorite pastry. it was his silent way of saying ‘sorry i was an asshole’. but now it was the last friday before the final game, and the team decided to throw a huge party. they considered it the pre-game before their win.

parties were never really your thing, never had been. you didn't look down on those who did, though, even you would drink and smoke sometimes. but you just preferred to do it in your own home. you could eat as much as you want, watch whatever you wanted, and not worry about having to walk home or spend an unnecessary amount of money on an uber. but nate had been begging you nonstop for you to come be his plus one.

between his incessant texts and calls, and almost pitiful whining, you gave in.

you perused through your messy closet to find your most party appropriate outfit, while simultaneously checking your phone. during one of his recent tutoring sessions, dylan had asked you out on a date. at least you assumed it's a date. you hadn’t been on a date in… well, ever. this would be your first one.

you thought back to nate’s warning about dylan. “he’s a dick and i don’t want you getting hurt.”

i’ll be able to take care of myself, you thought to yourself. besides, you didn’t even know exactly why nate believed dylan to be a dick. he was nice enough. maybe it was just some petty, guy thing that the two of them had with each other.

as if he had this sixth sense that you were ready, nate knocked on your front door, signaling that he was here to pick you up. you grabbed your phone from off the charger, and slid it into your back pocket. you took one last look at yourself in the mirror, fixing any flyaway hairs, making sure you looked perfect. what were you doing? dylan wasn’t even gonna be at the party tonight. there was no one you wanted to impress… right?

nate calls out your name. “c’mon, let’s go! you don’t wanna be late, do you?”

he knew you hated being late.

you rush out of your room, down the hallway, and swing open the front door. “alright, i’m here. let’s go.”

he glances down at you, taking notice of your outfit. he didn’t mean to stare so intently, really, he didn’t. but… god, you were just beautiful. in every way he could imagine, honestly.

“hello? earth to nate? are you done staring at me?” you ask. “what’s going on with you?”

his eyes snap up to meet your eyes. he looks like a kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “what? uh, nothing. you just… you look nice. good, even. you look good.”

you hope he doesn’t notice how warm your face is now. “ok, weirdo, let’s just go, yeah?” you lock your house, before sidestepping him to walk towards his truck.

by the time you guys get to the party, the house is almost completely packed. both strangers and couples alike are grinding up on each other. the led lights hung across the ceilings flash neon colors, while something by doja cat blasts loudly. katie from your chemistry class is talking with alyssa. you find yourself smiling a bit. you knew how much she liked her, and you're proud of her for taking her chance when she could.

nate suddenly grabs your wrist, not rough but warm, tugging you towards the kitchen. “you wanna a drink?” he asks once you're there.

“yeah, that’d be great.”

he fixes you up with something light and sweet, not strong enough to get you drunk, but enough for you to feel the buzz. exactly how you like it. while he does that, you look at your phone again. dylan hadn’t texted you all day. did you come off too strong by texting him ‘good morning’?

you were hoping to have at least a little bit of a conversation with him today. you didn't even know where the two of you were going out tomorrow.

“everything okay?” nate questions, handing you your drink.

you smile as a ‘thank you’, before pocketing your phone. "everything's fine, why?”

“that’s like, the twentieth time you've checked your phone tonight. you only do that when there's something going wrong. so, i ask again, is everything okay?”

you drop his gaze, fiddling with the neon green straw in the red solo cup. “well, dylan asked me out yesterday. i texted him ‘good morning’ and he hasn’t replied since. i guess i’m just kinda nervous.”

you don’t notice how nate clenches his jaw at the mention of dylan’s name. especially when this is about a possible date with said asshole. he pushes down his annoyance, ready to ask a question, when someone bumps into you, spilling beer down the front of your shirt.

“man, what the fuck! are you serious?!” he exclaims, shoving the clearly drunk guy.

“yo, sorry about that, man. didn’t mean to bump into your girl,” he slurs, staring you up and down. “hey, she kinda bad tho-”

before nate can say anything else, you grab his wrist and pull him towards the bathroom. he huffs and puffs like a child the whole time, mumbling under his breath about how he should’ve kicked that guy’s ass. once the two of you are inside, you close the door behind you and lock it.

“you seriously need to calm down. you can’t fight every guy you see,” you grumble, grabbing a bunch of paper towels.

“he spilled his drink all over you! and he was staring at you like a creep!” he argues, leaning against the wall.

“you were staring at me earlier! how is that any different?" you retort.

he scoffs, biting his tongue. you’re right, he had been, but still. instead, he watches you as you harshly wipe your shirt.

“it’s not gonna come out, especially since it's white,” he finally says, voice low.

“what do you want me to do, nate? i can’t party shirtless!” well, technically, you could, but you just preferred not to.

without a second thought, he unzips his dark grey jacket, holding it out to you. “here, take it.”

his head is already turned away, ready and waiting for you to change. there he was again. the same nate that you grew up with. the nate you’ve always known him to be, no matter how others saw him to be.

“thanks,” you murmur. your fingers brush his when you take it, and you both ignore the jolt of electricity it sends up your spines.

you pull off your white tank top, and it makes a wet, plopping sound when it falls on the tile floor. the dark grey jacket almost completely covers the jean mini skirt you put on tonight, as it rests just below your ass. it smells like an expensive ass cologne mixed with a minty vape. an odd pairing, but it’s uniquely him.

“i saw the look in his eyes, okay? and i know i’m not one to talk, but i didn't like it. and it gave me the same feeling that i felt when i heard you say that dylan asked you out. i know you're strong, and you're so fucking smart, so i know you can take care of yourself. but all i ask is that you be careful, alright? the last thing i want to see is you getting your heart broken.”

when he turns to look at you, you see the silent begging in them. “okay, i will,” you promise. “i’m always careful, remember?”

he lets out an almost audible sigh of relief.

“now that you already know about the date, i guess the only thing i have to worry about is if he tries to kiss me,” you say, leaning up against the same wall as he is.

he furrows his brows. “why would you have to worry about that?”

“i’ve never even had my first kiss, you know that. some of us weren’t lucky enough to have had our first kiss in fourth grade during gym, nate,” you reply, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“hey, you almost did! until you vomited all over richie owens.”

“ugh, are you serious?” you exclaim, smacking his shoulder. “we had just run the mile and i had crazy fever, give me a break.”

nate laughs, like genuinely belly laughs at that. it was a sound you hadn’t heard in a while. one that you hadn't realized you missed until now.

after his laughing spell calms down, he looks at you again, a genuine look in his eyes. “no, but, in all seriousness? you got nothing to worry about. it's just a kiss and if you fuck it up, who cares? dylan’s a dick, remember? so he should be lucky to have you at all.”

“you think so?” you ask softly.

“i know so,” he replies, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. his flick down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “you know, if you wanted, i could… teach you. you know, to kiss. only if you wanted, though.”

you subconsciously move closer, your chest now pressed against his. “you'd do that for me?”

he nods once. “i’d do anything you asked me too.”

you're not sure who leans in first, maybe it was you, or maybe it was the both of you at the same time. but when his lips meet yours, butterflies immediately start blooming in your belly. this is exactly how you imagined your first kiss would be.

maybe not in a teenagers bathroom, smelling like cheap beer, but with nate. somehow, though, those first two factors made it even better. you felt like a girl starring in her own rom-com.

nate’s large hand cups the back of your head, tilting it upwards to deepen the kiss. your hands fist the front of his shirt, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. he pulls away first, and a quiet tries to claw its way out of your throat as you chase after his lips.

“wait, slow down. is this okay?” he asks you, lips glossy and swollen.

you enthusiastically nod. “yes, nate, this is okay. please.” you try to tug him closer, but he’s too strong.

“alright, alright, i’m coming, baby,” he says with a short laugh, before diving in to kiss you again. neither of you are aware that he just subconsciously called you baby, or maybe neither of you care. he can only focus on the softness of your lips and the vanilla body spray you have on.

before you know, he’s sat on the toilet seat, with your thighs caging his. it was a cramped and awkward position that you were both in now, but nate guided you. his hands were now on your hips, and your hands were placed on the back of his neck. his lips kissed the sides of your mouth, under your ear, and down your jaw, before gently sucking on the side of your neck.

your nails instantly dug into his skin, causing him to hiss in both pain and pleasure. “nate, that feels good,” you murmur, eyes squeezed shut in bliss.

his tongue darts out to lick away the stinging. “i know, baby, i know.” his hands paw at the exposed skin of your hips, slowly rocking them back and forth onto his crotch.

the both of you simultaneously let out a soft moan, and he speeds up only slightly. his hips jolt up, meeting you halfway, causing him to let out something very similar to what you can only assume his a whimper. he groans your name, resting his head in the junction of your neck. “fuck, i’ve dreamed about this so many times.”

those muttered words make you falter for a second. he had? of course you had, who wouldn’t dream about being in your same position? but to hear nate himself say it? it could’ve made you cry honestly.

you open your mouth to respond, but a heavy and loud knocking interrupts you.

“bro, who the fuck is in there?! you’ve been in there for almost twenty minutes!” a voice you don’t recognize shouts out.

you immediately snap out of your daze, now realizing that you’ve just been making out with and dry humping your best friend. god, what have you done?

you can see how nate gets ready to say a smart ass comment to the guy, but you leave before that can happen. clumsily, you move off of his lap, swing the bathroom door wide open, and hurry out of the hallway.

you can hear the laughs of the guy, as well as the pained groan he lets out when nate probably hits him. but over all that, over all the noise of teenagers having fun and partying, you can hear nate. how pained he sounds when he calls out your name.

you hesitate by the door, looking over your shoulder to see nate gazing at you. blood is now rushing in your ears, muffling party 4 u by charlie xcx. he mouths something almost like ‘please’ and his puppy dog, brown eyes almost look like their welling up with tears from where you stand. ‘i’m sorry’ you mouth back, before turning and walking out of the party.

dylan never texts you back. and you don’t attempt to reach out to him again.

you avoid all of nate’s texts and calls over the weekend, and you’re somehow able to avoid him at school. that is, until thursday night, when he stops by at your house.

you’re sitting on your bed, listening to the soft lyrics of normal girl by sza, when a knock sounds on your window. you nearly shit yourself at the sudden noise, but when you move over to your window, you see nate perching on the long branch of your old tree house.

“what are you doing here?” you whisper yell.

you can’t hear him clearly, but you assume he’s asking something along the lines to let him in. you don't want to speak to him right now, but it's midnight, and it’s freezing outside.

he crawls through your now open window, slightly red and out of breath like he ran the whole way to your house. which he most likely did. he hands you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, ducking his head.

“i wanted to apologize for whatever i did to make you avoid me all week. and also say that i’m sorry you never got your date,” he murmurs, still staring down at his shoes. he was so shy, much unlike the teenage boy he is now.

“how'd you know i didn’t go on the date with him?” you question.

“apparently the guy who caught us, uh, kissing was one of dylan’s friends. i caught the two of them talking about it and saying disgusting shit about you, especially dylan,” he explains.

you could only imagine what they were saying. “is that why he never responded to my texts?”

he shakes his head, still not looking at you. his eyes were now focused on your dresser, the one that held a childhood photo of you and him, your tongue sticking out and rainbow sprinkle mustache on nate. “no, that was him just being a dick.”

you nod once. that’s just everything a teenage girl wants to hear. you place the flowers on your nightstand, making sure not to disturb the delicate petals, before slowly moving closer to nate. even when you stand in front of him he won’t look at you. neither of you speak for what feels like minutes, when you finally gain the courage, you wrap your arms around his midsection. he doesn’t waste a single second to melt into your gentle touch. one arm wraps around your waist, while the other cups the back of your head. 

“you don’t have to apologize for anything, nate. i was the one who ran from you and ignored you all week. i was… i was scared. that kissing you ruined everything,” you whisper against his shirt, holding back the tears that threaten to take over.

he pulls away from you, just enough to gaze down at you. “are you serious? i mean, fuck, i like you. like, a lot. always have. kissing me didn’t ruin anything, i promise you. and, besides, i was the one who offered to help you practice.”

you smile through the tears, and lean into his touch when he wipes away the ones that fell. “so we’re good?”

“more than good. we’re perfect,” he smiles back.

“...does this mean we can practice more kissing?” you ask softly.

he laughs at you. “we can do all the practice kissing you want, baby.”

a/n: ending kinda rushed, but i hope u guys still love it