Chapter Sixteen A Give and Take
Chapter Sixteen
A Give and Take
I’m sitting on the porch steps of the little cabin, two coffees in hand, when Nikki opens the door.
“Well, good morning to me,” she says cheerfully from the top step. I scoot over, passing her a cup as she joins me in staring
out at the ocean.
“I figured I owed you a coffee or two.” I shrug, trying to play it off like I’m not just using it as an excuse to see her
after our talk last night.
“I don’t know, I think karma might still be tipped in your favor between the two of us.”
I smile, watching a seagull swoop down into the water and emerge with a little fish. “I can’t keep doing this, Nikki,” I say.
She freezes beside me, no doubt getting the wrong idea about the sudden revelation I had when I woke up this morning. I probably
could have phrased it a little better, so I quickly add. “I can’t hold on to this anger.”
She tips her head, bracing herself. “Meaning . . . ?”
“Meaning maybe whatever this is can be a reboot instead of a sequel.”
She grins. “A reboot, eh? You know, I just read for one of those.”
I put my finger over her lips. “If it’s a reboot, then you’re not famous yet and we’re just friends.”
“Just friends?” Nikki asks. “You sure? Didn’t we make out in the original, like, a week after we started filming our show?
By my count, this reboot began—”
“I think we’ve already established you have a bad memory,” I tease, even though she’s right. We absolutely did make out almost
immediately after we met, but what she’s leaving out is that it was a dare from one of the other child actors on the set—who
I think was hoping that Nikki was going to kiss them.
I still remember that night like it just happened. We were having “cast bonding time” at a hotel near set—the kids hanging
out in one suite while our parents mingled in the other. We were all young and inexperienced, getting swept up in the excitement
of being on a show. Someone had suggested we play truth or dare and Nikki, always the brave one, always the loud one, had
chosen dare.
When they told her she had to kiss the cutest person in the room and Nikki kissed me? I was dangerously close to spontaneously
combusting.
Sure, the rumors about us had started almost immediately after that, but somehow they didn’t spread off set, letting us keep
the squeaky clean, wholesome image that the network wanted. Mostly anyway. Just gals being pals and all that. We were encouraged
to have sleepovers and spend time together as co-leads anyway. It was an easy cover.
They had no idea that we were falling in love. Experiencing a sexual awakening. Ruining each other for anyone else.
We didn’t get to have a friendship because we were in love within minutes—a blistering, clinging, codependent kind of thing
that served neither of us well. Maybe this “reboot” will be a chance to do the whole friendship part over, and do it right
this time.
“No making out, then. Noted.” She smirks before taking another sip. “Although, for the record, my memory is achingly fine in that regard.”
“Wanna go for a very platonic walk on the beach?” I ask, standing up.
“Of course!” She grins. “Thank you for this very platonic coffee, by the way. It’s nice to know that you remember how I take
it. I assumed you deleted everything about me when you disappeared.”
“I wish,” I say, not realizing how it sounded until it was too late. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re allowed to feel how you feel. You don’t have to apologize.”
“So are you, though,” I say, dropping my sneakers by her gate and walking barefoot in the sand. She follows suit, walking
beside me as we watch the waves beat against the shore in the early morning light.
“You know how I feel,” she says, raising her eyebrows.
“Not really.” I shrug. “It kind of seems fake, you know?” I hold my hand up before she can protest. “I believe that you’re
genuine in wanting to reconnect, and I’m willing to try to believe that you didn’t start writing this memoir with the intent to hurt anyone. My suspension of disbelief falters, though, with this nice-guy act you’re doing.”
“It’s not an act,” Nikki says.
“Come on,” I groan. “It has to piss you off at least a little when I accidentally say ‘I wish I could forget you’—especially
after you said that you started writing your book in order to not forget me. Don’t you get mad? Frustrated? Sad? You’re freakishly steady. I don’t get it. It’s not you.”
She pokes her tongue at the inside of her cheek and looks out into the ocean, avoiding my question, but I don’t give up.
“We can’t be friends if you can’t be honest. Our little reboot can’t only be you kissing my ass and me letting you. That’s
as unbalanced as we were before, just tilted the other way. I don’t want that.”
Nikki’s eyes snap to mine. “I’ve spent a lot of time these last few years learning that I can’t always put myself first. You
used to hate that about me and now you’re complaining that I don’t do it anymore? I thought . . . I thought I was doing a good job.”
“I don’t want you to always be worried about doing a good job!” I say. “I want to know the real Nikki. The good, the bad,
all of it. Stop being such an ass-kisser already!”
“You’ve never minded when I kissed your ass before. Although I guess it wasn’t really kissing, as much as—”
“Okay, I set myself up for that one,” I say, cutting her off before she makes me blush again.
“Yeah, you did.” She nudges her shoulder against mine just as an extra-large wave sends freezing cold water splashing over
our feet. We shriek and jump up, laughing as we head up the beach . . . until Nikki suddenly stops.
“What?” I ask, puzzled by the serious expression in her eyes.
She studies me for a second, her face stoic, and then pokes my arm. “You’re it,” she yells, racing away.
“That’s not fair!” I shout, whipping up sand as I run.
She’s fast, but I’m faster, and soon I’ve tackled her to the ground. Before we know it, we’re wrestling in the sand, tickling
and threatening to toss each other into the roiling ocean. It’s a messy, dirty, damp affair that transports me back to the
first time we came here. Back when everything felt free and safe.
This sleepy little town was such a good hiding place. It gave us a chance to regroup after finishing the series so we could
plot our next steps as we transitioned from child actors to whatever came after. Flowers for me, apparently; an Oscar for
her.
“What was it like hearing your name called?” I ask as we flop down on our backs to catch our breath.
“When?” she asks. There’s sand in her eyebrow and I fight the urge to wipe it away, digging my fingers into my jeans to keep
them still.
Friends, we’re friends, I remind myself, trying and failing to not follow the trail of her tongue as it slides across her lips. I can’t kiss her.
“Hmm?” I ask, trying to focus. “Oh, I mean, for the Oscar. What was it like being there? You must have died when they called
your name.”
This is the closest we’ve come to really talking about the stolen role, and we’re both sort of holding our breath.
Her brows furrow as she watches me. I worry for a second that she’s going to hold back again—stay neutral and polite or even downplay it as if she thinks that would curry favor with me—but then her face splits into a wide smile.
“It was incredible,” she says, rolling to her side to face me. “I’m there, right, and so is everybody I’ve looked up to in
this industry for my whole life. Except while I’m looking at them, they’re also looking at me. Getting nominated was enough,
but hearing my name called, walking up the same steps that Jennifer Lawrence fell down?! It was surreal. It was like nothing
I had ever experienced. Did you watch my speech?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Oh,” she says, a hint of hurt flashing across
her features. “Right, no.”
“I mean, I would have, but . . .”
“Yeah, no, I get it,” Nikki says softly, tucking some hair behind my ear and then quickly untucking it.
I look at her, puzzled.
“You told me stop kissing your ass, right? That means you have to get your own hair out of your face after you hurt my feelings.
Rules are rules.”
“Well, if it’s a rule . . .” I let out a tiny laugh. “Are you very upset I didn’t watch?”
“It was kind of a big moment for me.” She flicks some sand off her arm. “I took my brother as my plus-one. I didn’t want to
share it with someone else,” she says, looking toward the ocean. “Maybe someday we can watch it together?”
“Maybe,” I say, unsure if I mean it. Talking about it is one thing, but seeing it? I’m not sure how it would feel—if it would
hurt or give closure or both—and I don’t want to think about it right now.
Because this, right here, this is nice. This I can do.
I prop my head up on my arm to look at her, soaking up her slow blinks and the relaxed expression on her face.
I can almost feel the history spooling out into the space between our bodies—the air growing heavier with tension the longer we look at each other.
Wanting drowns out every thought in my head until I’m nothing more than instinct and need.
My eyes trail down the curves of her body, snagging on her collarbone, the one I used to love to bite so badly. I swallow
hard, my eyes drifting up to hers, finding the same heat reflected right back at me. My lips part, my body leaning just slightly,
and—
Nope.
I push myself up off the ground and dust myself off. Nikki groans, dropping onto her back before propping herself up on her
elbows. “Heading out?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
“I’m hungry,” I say. “Would you like to get some platonic breakfast with me?”
“What if I made it for us instead?” she asks. “Platonically, of course.”
“Of course,” I say. “Platonically. Then maybe after we could . . . look at your next chapter?”
“We could do that,” she says, her smirk turning into a full-on smile. “We could definitely do that.”
“Platonically, though,” I insist, pulling her up. “No more horny thoughts, and no more longing looks either, for that matter!”
“Horny thoughts? Who’s having horny thoughts? You have got to get your mind out of the gutter, friend.” She laughs and then leans closer to whisper, “I thought you were a good girl?”