by S. L. Scott
After I wrangle free, I walk across the room, needing the distance, needing time to cool down and process the feelings I’m having right now. “It’s not about just missing you, Nick.”
“Then what’s it’s about?”
“Why didn’t you text me back, or better yet, call me?”
“I was working and then when Greg got hurt, I took him to the hospital. They wouldn’t let me use my phone. The nurses said I could compromise the medical equipment.”
“I was worried.”
“I was, too.”
I can’t be mad. I want to be, but what he did today was for someone else. I cross the room and hug him hard.
He takes my chin between his fingers and angles my face up to him. “Don’t apologize. No need.” He hugs me this time and says, “I’m sorry I’m late. Do I still get dinner?”
Through my tears, I burst out laughing. That’s just like him. He tells me not to apologize for getting angry with him, but he apologizes to me for being late because he took someone to the hospital. I look him in the eyes and smile, loving that my best friend can bring me out of my sad moods so easily. “Of course. Hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m starved, but do you mind if I take a shower?”
There’s soot on his clothes and dirt on his cheek, so I say, “You know where everything is.” He has a drawer of clothes in my dresser because he spends so much time here. Alejandro never understood the bond, the friendship I have with Nick, so he didn’t stay over here much. He preferred that I stay at his place. We only did that a couple times a week, if that, due to his crazy work schedule.
Alejandro also would have flipped if he knew that sometimes I wear Nick’s shirts to sleep in. Nick doesn’t even know I do this, but I find them comforting, like him.
Over dinner he tells me all that happened at the scene today and how Greg snuck under the police tape to get footage of a burning swing set. Nick didn’t follow with the camera but was the first one to help Greg when the winds changed causing the awning to blow down and wrap around Greg’s legs.
“His burns are mild to second degree. He’s lucky,” he says.
I rest my chin on my hands and look directly into his eyes. “He’s lucky to have you as his partner.”
“Anyone would have helped.”
“That’s not true. But what is true is that I’m lucky to have you in my life, and I’m glad you’re safe.”
We hold eye contact until he looks down at his plate. “I’ll wash up, since you cooked.”
After the dishes, we lounge in the living room to watch our favorite reality show and playfully argue about who should have been kicked off. Our laughter is a nice reprieve from the earlier scare.
Only he makes me feel this good, this happy.
Just after midnight, I follow him to the door, but before he opens it, I tug on the back of his T-shirt until he’s pulled back to me.
“Whoa!” he exclaims which makes me laugh as he turns around to face me.
Pointing a finger at him, I say, “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”
He gives me a soft smile and takes my hand. “I’ll try not to. Am I still invited on Wednesday?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I hug him, needing to be as close as I can because I’m feeling sappy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His hands are warm as he rubs my back. “Get some rest. You look tired.”
“Geez, thanks.”
“You look beautifully tired. Is that better?”
“Yes, much.” I push him out the door. “Go get some rest yourself. You’ve earned it.”
“Night, Hay.”
“Goodnight.”
Chapter 4
Two nights later, I’m sitting at the bar at the Golden Gopher on West 8th Street when my phone buzzes. I read the text: Turn around.
I spin on the barstool and see Nick walking towards me with a huge grin on his face. It’s contagious. He makes me feel giddy and happy, so I smile big and goofy, too. “Hey there.” I poke him in his side.
He slides onto the stool next to mine, his blue eyes bright even in the dim light. Leaning forward, he kisses my cheek. “Hi.”
That’s new. “What gives with the kisses, buddy? Usually you have to buy me dinner first for that kind of action,” I say, trying for a joke.
He orders a beer from the bartender then angles towards me. “I think the other day made me appreciate my life and the people I have in it.”
“Sounds like the job is getting to you. You’re not going soft on me, are you?”
He laughs so hard his head tilts back before looking me in the eyes. “Two things you can never say to a man, Hayley, and this is important, so take notes. The first is, you can never mention if his forehead is getting bigger—”
“Why?”
“Because that means his hairline is receding.”
“Yours isn’t.”
“Thank you,” he says and runs his fingers through his hair as if double checking. “The second is, you never, under any circumstances, insinuate a man is ‘going soft’ on you. That’s just not good for the ego or the relationship.”
Now I’m laughing, and I shake my head. “It’s amazing that no matter what a woman says, a man will make his penis the center of attention. That’s quite a talent.”
“Eh.” He shrugs. “We guys consider it more of a skill than a talent.”
I roll my eyes. “And on that note, I’m changing the topic now. Where are the others?”
“They’ll meet us at that new bar down the street.”
I finish my gin and tonic and hop off the stool. “I’m ready. Let’s get this pub crawl going.”
“Guess I’ll pay the tab.” His tone is serious, but the sarcasm is evident.
“I already paid for both of us.” I wink at him. “I knew you’d order a beer on draft.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “And I knew I kept you around for a reason.”
I elbow him lightly in the ribs. “Yeah, yeah. You’re buying the next round.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He opens the door, and we walk down one block and up another to the next bar.
When we get inside, I hear, “Hayley! Nick!”
We look to our left and see Jennifer, a friend from college, and her older and very handsome brother, Chance, standing behind her.
“Play nice, Nicky,” I whisper as we approach.
“I always do,” he replies under his breath. “Jennifer! So good to see you.” He wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace, which seems to take her by surprise. “It’s been too long.”
“Yeah, since New Year’s, Nick,” she mumbles. Her expression is confused as if she’s not in on the joke.
I laugh. He’s ridiculous. We switch places, and I hug her. She whispers, “What’s with the greeting?”
“He’s feeling sentimental these days.”
“Ah, I see.”
It’s funny how she’s good with that answer, as if that explains everything. Her lack of response makes me giggle.
Chance is still standing there with a shy expression.
He comes over, smiling at me. We’ve flirted in the past and kissed once when I was nineteen, but nothing more. Nick has never liked Chance and I’ve never understood why.
“Hi, it’s been a while,” Chance says, taking my hand.
We do this awkward dance where I move forward but he sticks his hand out, then he moves to hug me and I stick my hand out to shake. This is probably why we never dated. We were never in sync. Finally, we figure it out and hug.
“Yeah, at least six months.”
“More like eight,” he says, like it’s a fact. Maybe it is.
“Are you keeping track?” I say, teasing him.
“Yes.”
“You are?” I’m surprised and flattered.
“Mmhm. I thought about you more than a few times.”
Interesting. My heart races, so I change topics by making a suggestion. “I m
ight need a drink before we continue this conversation.” I turn and signal Nick toward the bar. “We’ll be back.”
Nick hooks his arm with mine. As we weave through the tables, he whispers, “You guys can never date. Even I could see how uncomfortable that greeting was for you.”
The words rush from my mouth. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t awkward.”
He grabs my arm. “Who are you kidding? Shaking hands, fast-talking, and the most awkward of hugs I’ve ever seen. You two would be terrible in bed. You really need to distance yourself from him.”
“You’re crazy. It was just… whatever.” It’s not worth it. I didn’t have to justify what that was. We get to the bar, and I say to the bartender, “Gin and tonic, please.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Nick places his order and lets the topic drop like the good friend he is.
I may frustrate Nick sometimes, but he gets who I am. As I lean my elbows on the bar, I turn to Nick. “I need the latest about this date. Did it happen? Is it ‘on’ as the teens say these days?”
Nick avoids answering by handing the bartender his card and telling him to start a tab. We take our drinks, and he starts to head back to Jennifer and Chance. I take a sip and follow close behind.
“You’re not sharing these days or what?” His silence is puzzling and equally worrisome.
“I’m not gonna share if all you’re going to do is make fun of me.”
I stop and think my mouth might be hanging open. Nick confirms it when he turns around, walks back, and lifts my chin back up until my mouth closes. “What’s up?” he asks.
“But, that’s what we do,” I say, still shocked. “We mess with each other. That’s our modus operandi. You always pick on me about my boyfriends or guys I’m interested in.” I wave my hand toward Chance. “You were just making fun of how bad he and I would be in bed.”
He takes a long drink from his beer. “Not in bed, having sex.”
“Really?” I put my hand on my hip and tilt my head. “What’s the difference?”
“You’d probably sleep fine together in bed, but as for any activities of the sexual kind—”
I roll my eyes. “Get off of the whole Chance thing.”
“As long as you don’t get on,” he replies curtly.
I don’t know where this is coming from. He’s never been… Wait, who am I kidding? He’s always like this when it comes to me and men.
He sighs as he looks around, avoiding eye contact. That’s when I see it. That’s when I figure it out. “You like this woman.” It’s not an accusation or a question. It’s just a statement.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe, but I don’t know if it’s anything more.” Glancing over his shoulder, he says, “We should get back.”
“I’ll drop this for now, but I want honest Nick back soon,” I say as I saunter past him.
“You’re about to get so much honesty, you won’t know what to do with it.”
I laugh, and it feels good. “Bring it on, baby.” We head toward Jennifer and Chance. Pretending nothing was going on five seconds earlier, I smile. “And lay off Jen. That was a little over-the-top earlier.”
“Who said I didn’t mean every word?”
Nick’s comment makes me scoff and I practically spit my drink all over Chance. I know Nick’s always found Jen a little on the annoying side. He knows she’s crushed on him for years. Embarrassed, I discreetly wipe the drink from my chin. That’s when I really see what’s happening here. I thought I had it figured out. I didn’t. Nick and Jennifer are sitting next to each other talking, and suddenly it’s as if Chance and I don’t exist.
“You want a seat, Hayley?” Chance pats the stool next to him.
“Yeah, sure.” I sit down, but I can’t take my eyes off the scene playing out in front of me. Nick’s eyes meet mine, but not long enough for us to exchange any of our normal silent messages.
Chance moves a little closer and says, “Jen told me about Alejandro. Sorry to hear about that.”
“No worries,” I reply, waving my hand dismissively. “Jennifer? How’d you like the New Year’s Party? Did you have fun? Did you kiss anyone or hook up?”
All three of them go quiet as she shifts uncomfortably. “Um, yes, I did have a good time.”
I obnoxiously encourage her. “And? What about the other stuff?” I wink as if we’re confidantes. We’re friends as in ‘see each other once a month friends’ and we’ve always been good with that, but when she glances at Nick and shifts again, I know something is up. Something like I might be seeing her more than once a month if this relationship blossoms.
Is that what’s happening here? Is this a relationship in the making?
It’s wrong. They can’t be a couple. They’re my friends. He’s my Nick. Am I wrong for not wanting this? They’re both good people. Heck, they’re great people, so I should be happy for them, but… but… I need time to adjust. I take three big swigs of my cocktail before setting it loudly down on the table.
“Are you all right?” Jennifer asks, because she’s nice like that.
Nick is not smiling. Chance is rubbing my arm for some reason, as if the action will soothe me while I look between Jen and Nick. The attention is beginning to suffocate me. I jump off my chair and land on my feet, but wobble when I come down wrong in my high heels. I catch my balance as Chance catches me by the waist.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
I know I’m being irrational. Nick has every right to date, and Jennifer is a nice girl. I notice a pattern when I describe her. It always involves the word “nice.” Nice is so not what Nick needs. Nick needs fun. He needs spontaneity. Nick needs…
I shake my head as reality sinks in, and I silently began to chant, He’s allowed to date. We’re just best friends. She’s nice.
“Sorry. As you were saying? New Year’s kisses or hook-ups?” I ask again, needing to know everything that has brought them to this moment.
Her eyes widen, but she relaxes again. “Um, no, I didn’t kiss anyone.” She sneaks a peek at Nick. “Or hook up with anyone.”
I take a large swallow from my glass. “That’s too bad. Any good prospects though?”
“Stop the interrogation, Hayley,” Nick says as he glares at me. He’s on to me and my dirty tactics.
“I need another drink.” Chance stands, and asks, “You want to come with me?” His smile is much more inviting than Nick’s scowl, so I go.
The bar area is crowded, and the only place we can find where we both can stand together is at the far end of it. Unfortunately, this spot is not optimum to properly spy on Nick and Jennifer.
“I heard you were living in France?” I need a conversation that doesn’t involve me thinking about the two of them together.
“It sounds a lot fancier when you put in like that. It was for work. We’ve opened a new flagship store in Paris. I’ll be commuting between L.A. and Paris for the next couple of months until all the kinks are smoothed out.”
“That sounds amazing. The handbag business must be doing well.”
“Better than expected at our price point.”
“Parisians and Angelenos love their pricey purses.”
“You should come by the store this week while I’m in town. Maybe you’ll see something you like.”
I take a few sips until the ice rearranges. “Maybe. That would be great.”
“Do you have my number?”
His question makes me laugh. “That’s one thing I’ve never had.”
He chuckles, eyeing me. “Yes, it’s very dense of me, but I could have sworn you had it and were choosing not to call me. How is it possible that we’ve never exchanged phone numbers?”
“We’ve exchanged saliva but never numbers. Crazy!” Joking with him is easy.
He laughs and if I’m not mistaken, he sounds a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m going to remedy that now. Let me have your phone.”
And just like that, I see him in a new light. I’ve always been attracted to him because he
’s cute, really cute, but now, he’s not just cute, he’s handsome. His brown hair is styled, but not stiff, and his clothes are perfectly situated to show there’s a nice body under them—not too tight, but fitted—trendy.
I give him my phone and take a moment to look at Nick and Jen as he types his number. Chance’s hair is sort of like Nick’s, but Nick’s is more natural, like a surfer’s or a skater’s. I was always attracted to the skaters in high school.
I see them whispering to each other, and it bothers me for some reason, so I stand up straighter to stare and torture myself a little more. When I turn back, Chance hands me my phone and a fresh cocktail.
“I ordered you another drink,” he says, smiling.
“Great. Thank you.” We clink our glasses together and both take a long pull while holding eye contact. “You’re eyes are green.” I state this surprised I never noticed the color of his eyes before.
“Yes. You have green eyes, also. They’re pretty. I’ve always found them very,” he says and pauses in thought as he stares into my eyes, “intriguing.”
“Intriguing, huh?” Alejandro never gave me compliments after the first month of dating. I think I miss receiving compliments more than I miss him after five days apart. I’m starting to realize Nick was right about us. We weren’t meant to be.
“For a girl who seems so open about everything, I sense a lot of secrets.”
I smile, getting my mind back on the person in front of me, on the opportunity I’ve been given, and say, “I’m an open book. You have questions. I have the answers.”
“What’s really going on between you and Nick, then?”
I choke on my drink. As I cough and hack, I grab my throat. It burns when I try to speak, but the question is so preposterous that I feel the need to immediately clarify the situation. “We’re friends, close friends, best friends,” I manage to say. “Nothing more. Just friends. Frie—”
“Wow! Okay, okay.” He puts his hands up. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Got it. Just friends. Good to know.”
I take another long drink to stop babbling, needing the moment to recompose. After taking a deep breath, I calmly repeat, “We’re just friends.” My chest hurts as the words linger between us, feeling all wrong. He smiles as if a burden has lifted from his shoulders and his expression shows he’s amused, apparently by me. I’m not. I’m being silly and should appreciate what’s right in front of me, but instead I’m flummoxed by my rapidly changing emotions. “I’m rambling. Bad habit when I’m nervous.”
