Polaroid - A Wayhaught Fanfiction

Do This Right

When Nicole woke up the next morning, she didn't rush to get out of bed; she spent some time staring emptily onto the ceiling, replaying what just happened last night and how she pathetically finished herself off in her own room after, assisted with semi-imaginative images of way-less-than-decently dressed Waverly spinning in the back of her head the whole time.

She does have to admit, though; she really didn't think Waverly had it in her. The girl's got game-- a cruel, annoying, yet amazing one at that, and Nicole would be lying if she said she wasn't tempted to seek vengeance after what happened last night. Yet despite it all, she found herself admiring Waverly more than anything.

When Nicole did finally gather what's left of her dignity, she took a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes and stepped out of her room. She found Waverly's door wide open, and the girl was nowhere to be found.

She strolled along the hall, recounting every memory she could grasp about her time in this house; she ran her thumb along the hand-written growth chart on the door jamb of her father's office and smiled to herself as she looked at it; the chart started when she was three, and ended when she was sixteen. She'd grown a few inches taller since then. She remembered how her dad would be standing next to her to help her write down the charts; he was a tall, broad man with auburn hair with low, soothing voice and a patience that could last a century. When she was little, he used to sweep her off her feet and tell her that she's his favorite person in the whole world-- guess times really has changed, huh, dad?

Nicole stood back up and took a deep breath, replaying an old memory from her shitty homecoming dance; she went home early because she couldn't take the sight of the girl she liked kissing some boy. Her dad picked her up, took her home and tried to ask her what's going on. Nicole didn't give him any answer. She just stormed right into her room and slammed the door closed.

"Nicole?" He knocked and knocked and knocked. He sounded really worried; and Nicole could still remember the sound of his voice so vividly that for a moment she could convince herself that he was still alive.

"Asshole." Nicole muttered quietly. She kept her gaze to the floor as she strolled on, headed for downstairs.

The closer she got to the first floor, muffled voices of chatter and laughter coming from the first floor began to enter her earshot, along with the sounds of kitchen utensils clanking against one another. Not long after, the delightful smell of fresh, morning food started to fill her nostrils: the smell of fried bacon, eggs, maple syrup and french toast. Someone's early, she thought as she walked on.

She entered the kitchen and found Waverly, all chipper and dressed up in a crop top that spelled 'Shorty's' and a pair of tight-fit blue jeans that Nicole couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of. Her mother was there too, giggling with the brunette over some embarassing story from Nicole's childhood. They somehow looked thick as thieves, and above all, they both looked... happy.

"Oh, Nicole used to hate being an only child. Do you have any siblings?"

"I do. I have two older sisters. I actually live with one now in the city."

"Oh, fun!"

"What about you? Do you have siblings?"

"I have a brother who lives in California. He's such a sweetheart. You'd love him." Her mom smiled ear to ear at Waverly, and then turned her head upon hearing the sound of Nicole entering the room. "Someone's late to the party." She greeted. She left Waverly's side and passed by Nicole with a tray of fried bacon and scrambled eggs.

"Morning, mom." Nicole nodded modestly, blinking quickly and hoping that her mom didn't notice how intensely she was ogling Waverly.

Waverly smirked at her from across the kitchen island. "How was your sleep?"