Chapter 40 Nico
nico
I was halfway to the dryer with an armload of towels when my phone chimed. It was sitting on the washer, and I dropped the towels when I reached for it. Fuck it. They’d survived worse.
PACK: Okay, I need a ruling. Is it weird to miss someone and want to chirp them at the same time?
I laughed so hard it echoed off the tile walls. That had been happening a lot more since we’d started texting again.
NICO: If it is, we’re both guilty. So go ahead. Chirp.
PACK: Careful. You just gave me permission, and I’m very bad with power.
I could picture his face with the same smug, ridiculous grin he had the day we met. “So, you’re what my new roommate looks like?” he’d asked. “Try again, champ.”
Fuck you, young Pack. I couldn’t stop grinning at the memory.
NICO: I’ve seen your chirps. “Power” is generous.
PACK: Excuse you. I’m an artist. Chirping is all about timing.
An emoji? The first one since before that awful trip to Buffalo.
NICO: Says the guy who once yelled “you need an eye transplant” at a ref.
Freshman year. Would he remember that?
My message tone chimed again while I scooped up the towels.
PACK: That ref totally deserved it. Also, important follow-up question. Are you doing something boring or dangerous?
I had to think about that.
NICO: Laundry. Emotionally dangerous, physically fine.
PACK: Damn. I was hoping for ladders or power tools.
That stopped me before I could reply. This could have gone somewhere we weren’t ready for yet, so I scaled it back.
NICO: Haha. I dropped some clean towels. Does that count?
PACK: Is this why you miss me? I do laundry perfectly.
NICO: That is the biggest lie you’ve ever told.
PACK: No comment but at least I don’t throw clean shit on the floor. Are you clean btw or did you fall with the towels?
I leaned back against the counter and tried to control my racing heart. This was still about towels. Only towels.
NICO: So what’s your chirp, Paquette? You asked for a ruling, not a seminar.
PACK: Right. Okay. Chirp attempt 1. You dropped the towels because you were distracted thinking about me.
Yes, yes, yes. But I couldn’t admit it.
NICO: Why would you think that?
PACK: Damn. Chirp attempt 2. You dropped the towels because you’re bad at standing up.
I tried not to laugh. Big fail.
NICO: I will accept that one. Barely.
PACK: Progress. I’ll take it.
I started typing, deleting, and typing again. Every version circled back to the same thing: Fuck what happened in Buffalo. Let’s fix this. But I couldn’t send that. Not yet.
While I stared at the screen, the phone chimed again.
PACK: You laughing today?
I tossed a detergent pod in with the towels and pressed start. That hadn’t been a chirp. It was a check-in, and I wasn’t going to lie.
NICO: Yeah. More than I have for a while.
Three dots appeared and danced. Then they disappeared, and it was at least thirty seconds before they came back.
PACK: Good. That helps.
I waited for a follow-up, but none came.
NICO: How’s the circus over there?
The Warriors had won both games in Buffalo but lost the next two in Montreal, so the series was tied 2–2. With four wins needed to take the championship, the city of Buffalo and its team had to be feeling a little nuts.
PACK: It was crazy up there. Lynx fans are brutal. Someone threw a foam middle finger at Harpy over the glass. We need a win tomorrow, so we’re all pretending to be calm.
NICO: You pretending better than last week?
Fuck me. Why did I say that?
PACK: A little. Talking to you helps.
I swallowed hard, then typed one word.
NICO: Same.
PACK: Doorbell. Hold on.
The washer started thumping, so I rearranged the towels inside. My hands were shaking by the time my phone beeped again.
PACK: Okay, emergency time-out.
My stomach tightened. Not a clench, but a definite knot.
NICO: Define emergency.
PACK: Holky and Dog are here with several others. They’re hyper as shit. Team bonding situation.
PACK: You know, snacks, bad ideas, zero respect for personal space. Maybe a nervous breakdown for me.
I laughed louder than I had since… well, a few minutes earlier.
NICO: Thoughts and prayers.
PACK: I need that.
PACK: Could we pick this up later, Nix?
Later. Not after playoffs. Not someday. Just later.
My stomach relaxed.
NICO: Yeah. Later’s good.
Three dots appeared, and this time, they didn’t disappear.
PACK: Good. Don’t want to lose my chirping skills.
NICO: No worries. You never had any.
PACK: Rude. I’ll text you when I get rid of the inmates.
My eyes burned, and I sagged against the counter. When I could see again, I replied.
NICO: I’ll be here. Try not to let anyone set anything on fire.
PACK: No promises.
PACK: Hey, Nix?
I held the phone tighter.
NICO: Yeah?
PACK: I’m really glad you answered me today.
Something in my neck let go. It had been tight for so long I’d stopped noticing.
NICO: Me too.
I didn’t move until the screen went dark. Nothing was fixed or decided, but for now, we were talking again. And we sounded like us.