Free Hopelessly Imperfect (Imperfect #1) by Gabriela Cabezut Page B

wouldn’t see her.
    I swallowed hard and walked to the fridge. There were some leftovers from yesterday’s dinner, but I wasn’t in the mood for anything Marie-related. I searched through the fridge as I heard Nathan take a seat on the kitchen counter.
    “There’s really not much, sorry,” I murmured apologetically as I grabbed two apples from the bottom drawer. I washed them and threw one at him. He had good reflexes, because he caught it without a blink.
    The room was filled with crunching noises as we both munched on the fruit. He sat on the counter while I leaned against the wall across from him with the whole kitchen between us. When he was finished, he pushed away from the counter and washed his hands. “I’m still hungry.” He patted his belly with a small smirk.
    I eyed him warily. “Don’t you have to go back to school?”
    “What? And leave all the fun to you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Not happening, Taylor. Come on, I know a place.”
    Biting my lip, I stared at him. His gray eyes were stormy, yet determined at the same time. He was sad, but not for me. It was like he had this darkness swelling inside him. I could tell he wasn’t judging me; it felt like he understood me in a way. Plus, he wasn’t asking any questions. Even though I knew he probably had many.
    Still with a heavy heart, I slowly pushed myself off the wall. “What kind of place?”
    A lopsided smile flashed across his lips. “A great place. They make the best sandwiches ever.”
    Apprehension made my stomach clench. I’m not a good person. I failed my friends and my family. Why would he want to spend time with me?
    “Nathan.” He stopped as we reached the front door. “I’m not fun to hang out with.” He glanced at me with serious eyes. “I go to therapy,” I said as I raised my hands, hoping that would explain why I was so fucked up.
    His lips twitched, and his right hand gestured from him to me. “We share the therapist, remember?”
    I averted my eyes as my brows furrowed. “I’m fucked up. Anne is right.”
    His hand grabbed mine. “Don’t do this.” His lips were set in a straight line. “Let’s get a freaking sandwich. That’s it.” He raised his palm in mock surrender when I gazed at him.
    My lips were trembling and I teared up again. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded. “Sandwich, okay.”
    “You’ll thank me later, I promise.” He grinned and held the door for me as I walked out.
    The ride was silent as I stared outside the window. I had fucked up with Anne. Really bad. Some days were okay. On others, the pain, shame, and guilt made me feel like I was at the bottom of a dark pit. This was one of those days.
    However, the boy next to me wasn’t judging me or pitying me. He just wanted to be close. And I sort of needed to hang on to the fine line of hope he was giving me. I needed that. Just as much as I had been needing a friend when Farah showed up.
    When he was around, I felt just a little bit calmer. Especially since he now knew about the scars I had been trying to hide over the last weeks. I felt like I could be myself around him.
    Minutes later, he parked outside a fast-food restaurant. My lips twitched. “Seriously?” I glanced at him.
    He was full-on smiling now. A gorgeous one-sided smile. “They do make mean ham sandwiches.” A small breath left my lips as I grinned. His gray eyes sparkled. “See? I knew you’d enjoy it.”
    “I do have therapy later on,” I murmured as we got out of the car.
    “I know.” He glanced at me. “Me too.” And there was that lopsided smile again.
    That smile was contagious, mischievous and intriguing at the same time. It made my heart skip a beat. Or two.
    When we got to the restaurant’s counter, he ordered an enormous baguette with almost every condiment on it. I wasn’t really hungry. When I said that, he glared at me and ordered a basic ham-and-cheese sandwich for me. He didn’t let me pay for it, arguing that I wasn’t going to eat much