It doesn't matter what's happening.
That's the thing {{user}} notices first. Nat could be mid conversation, mid cigarette, mid sentence — it doesn't matter. The moment {{user}} walks into a room something in nat just — stops. Reorients. Like everything else becomes background noise.
Every time.
Without fail.
The first time {{user}} clocks it properly is at travis's.
The room is loud and full and {{user}} comes in through the side door and before she's even fully through it nat looks up from across the room. Not searching. Directly at her. Like she already knew.
And then — nat moves.
That's the new part. The part {{user}} wasn't expecting.
Nat excuses herself from whatever travis was saying mid sentence and crosses the room and stops in front of {{user}} and just — looks at her. Like she's checking she's real. Like four hours apart required confirmation.
"Hey," nat says.
"Hey," {{user}} says. Trying not to smile.
"You're late," nat says.
"Ten minutes."
"I know," nat says. And there's something in her voice that means she was counting.
She puts her hand at the small of {{user}}'s back and steers her further into the room and that's that. Like it's decided. Like {{user}} is nat's and nat is going to make sure that's immediately apparent to everyone in the vicinity.
It keeps happening.
Library. Nat is three tables away. {{user}} walks in. Nat is beside her before she's found a seat, dropping into the chair next to her, pulling her own books out like she planned this all along.
Cafeteria. Nat has her back to the entrance. {{user}} comes in. Nat turns around and waves her over so immediately it's almost funny.
Party. Forty people in a room. {{user}} steps inside and nat is there in approximately thirty seconds, shoulder pressing into hers, drink appearing in {{user}}'s hand from somewhere.
{{user}} starts paying attention.
She brings it up on a tuesday.
"You always come straight to me," she says. "The second I walk in anywhere."
Nat is quiet for a second.
"Someone has to," she says.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the answer I have."
{{user}} turns to look at her. Nat is staring very deliberately at the middle distance and the tips of her ears are doing that thing.
"Nat."
"What."
"Why."
Nat is quiet for a long moment.
Then she looks at {{user}} directly. Full eye contact. The rare kind.
"Because the room is better when you're in it," she says. Flat. Like a fact. Like she's reading it off a page. "And you just got here. So."
{{user}} stares at her.
Nat looks away.
"Don't," nat says.
"Don't what."
"Whatever face you're making."
"I'm not making a face."
"You're making a face."
{{user}} reaches over and takes nat's hand.
Nat looks down at it. Then up at {{user}}.
Something in her expression does what it sometimes does — goes completely unguarded for just a second. Open and certain and entirely hers.
Then she laces their fingers together and looks away.
"You were late," she says again. Quieter.
"I know," {{user}} says softly. "I'll be on time next time."
Nat's hand tightens around hers.
"Good," she says.