Nick & Bailey

5. Nick

Nick did the only thing he could think of to squash any possible rumors—he got into a fight the first day of school. Nothing serious, nobody actually got hurt, and he got lucky. The kid he beat up turned out to be the biggest dick in school—no love lost from the other students.

He had a two day suspension, which he wasn't sure  his mom even noticed—she had her hands full—and officially became the coolest kid in seventh grade.

The next step in his plan was simple: make Bailey Rogers's life a living hell.

It was all harmless fun—making caramel covered onions instead of apples, placing a fake rat under her bed, switching the icing in her Oreos with toothpaste.

He thought if he just made her hate him enough, he would be able to move on. But that never happened.

She definitely hated him, but for some odd reason, that just made him want her more. Pissing her off and having her rip him a new one became like a drug to him. He did it every chance he got.

When he really thought about it, he wondered if he was subconsciously forcing her to at least acknowledge him. It was better to be hated by her than nothing at all.

Which is why, tonight, even six years later, her silence is driving him crazy. He has to get her attention somehow.

They are all sitting around the dinner table with a bucket from KFC that Ian's grandma, Bee, had brought home for supper. Bee was going on and on about all the drama in her bridge club--not seeming to notice or care that all of her grandchildren are simply nodding politely after the fifteenth story involving Marge and Ethel. The only one that seems interested is Liam, Ian's younger cousin.

Bee is not what one would call a "typical" grandmother. She has a more active social calendar than Nick does. The room is smoky from the cigarette that seems to always be near her mouth, and she is on her third glass of brandy of the night. Her idea of a home cooked meal is heating up a frozen lasagna and eats fast food at least five days a week. But she would do anything for her family, and loves her grandchildren with an intensity that Nick has never personally known. Nick first met her when he was thirteen and absolutely adores her.

"Well did Ethel know that Marge and Reggie had been meeting in her room after curfew?" Liam asks, referring to the most recent Bridge Club assisted-living gossip.

At that, Bailey scoots her chair back. "I'm going to go to the restroom," she says.

As soon as she leaves the room, Nick repeats her words and follows the same direction. Everyone seems to be in a daze and don't even look up.

He waits patiently outside the guest bathroom door until Bailey opens it and sees him standing against the wall, hands behind his back.

"Oh! You scared me!" She places her hand on her chest like she's trying to steady her breathing.

"It's all yours," she says, referring to the room she just vacated.

"I don't need it," he says, taking a step toward her, head tilted down towards hers.

"Wh-what do you need?" He can tell she is getting flustered because of his suddenly close proximity—just like she had in the closet.

He doesn't stop his slow steps until their bodies are mere inches apart. He places his hand behind her back and pulls her to him until her ear is near his mouth. Damn, she smells good.

"We're not going to pretend like today didn't happen," he whispers. "I'm coming to your room tonight."

She arches her back slightly, obviously loving the feel of his breath on her skin.

Her voice is shaky, "Mandy usually sleeps in my room with me."

"Tell her to leave," Nick demands. "I'm going to see you tonight. One way or another."

He's giving the illusion of confidence when inside he feels anything but. He's terrified of her rejecting him, but he learned a long time ago that girls don't want a little boy asking for permission. They want a man to take what he wants—within reason, of course.

Nick lets his arm fall and takes a step backward. Now he speaks in a normal voice. "I'm going outside. The smell of Bee's cigarettes is making me regret quitting."

Nick doesn't wait for a response before turning away and walking down the hall.