Chapter 8
8
Summer
“Where’s the parking lot?” Nico asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. You can drop me off in front, and I’ll get a ride home.”
I’m handing him a get-out-of-jail-free card. No doubt he’ll snatch it out of my hand.
“Are your parents close by?”
“No.” I hesitate a moment and wonder if I should mention just how not close by they are. I doubt it will make a difference. Nico’s just asking to be polite so he can dump me here with a clear conscience. Maybe I should test my theory and prove what a jerk he really is. “They’re still up north.”
“North as in...?”
“New Jersey.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t think there’s a shot in hell of them moving here. Mom hates the heat and humidity.”
Heat and humidity are a way of life in North Carolina. From the middle of May to the end of September. And many other days as well.
I wonder if he realizes I have no one I feel comfortable asking to come stay with me while I’m here or to pick me up and drive me back to my apartment when they release me. If I did, I wouldn’t have asked Nico. No matter how good he looks in his black T-shirt with a day’s scruff and his movie star sunglasses.
“You know what?” I wait, curious about what he has to say. “I’m already here. I’ll go in with you, make sure you have back-up.”
He didn’t just offer to sit and wait with me, did he?
“Back-up? People come here for medical help, not to take part in tag-team wrestling.”
He takes a long breath. “Always picking an argument.”
“Am not.”
“Go ahead, prove my point.” Only now, he sounds playful and not like a condescending ass. My hearing must be off, too!
He puts the car in park and hands over his keys to a woman in a blue shirt with VALET printed on it in big, black letters. “Sometimes,” he says after giving her his cell number, “you should just say thank you.”
After giving all my information at the registration desk and getting my cheap plastic bracelet, we head to the waiting area. There aren’t a lot of people before me. Hopefully, I’ll only be here a few hours.
“Niko?” I break the quiet between us.
“Yes?” His voice is soft and reassuring. I’m not used to this agreeable side. He’s nice. And it’s scary. Because if Niko continues to act like this... No. No. No. Out of the question.
“Why were you coming to my apartment?”
“I wasn’t,” he snaps.
Like my mother always says, all good things come to an end. No worries of developing feelings. The Nico I’ve come to know and dread is back.
“You sort of were.”
He sighs. “I was visiting my buddy who lives in the same complex. I happened to run into you, or rather, you ran into me, before I got there.”
“Oh.”
I don’t mention that he hasn’t bothered calling or texting his “friend” to tell him that he hit a detour and won’t make it. Maybe I’m making too much of this. It’s not like Mr. Perfect has shown the least bit of interest in me. Not even as a friend. Until now.
Every interaction we’ve had has been about spikeball. And why would he come to my apartment? Actually, I’m surprised he hasn’t laced into me for missing our game Thursday. On cue, as if he can read my thoughts...
“Is your face the reason you missed league this week?”
He reminds me that he notices my face. My swollen, blotchy, ugly face. Yeah, Mom also taught me how to read between the lines.
I shake my head. “I had to work late every night this week.”
“ Work ?”
“Yes.”
“Can you even see out of your eye?”
I nod. “My vision is fine, it’s... I must be straining, or overusing it.”
“Eye strain leads to headaches, not swelling of the entire side of your face.”
I look away. I don’t need him to keep reminding me that not only do I feel like shit, I look like it as well. Whatever the hell is going on has my forehead red and swollen, making me look like I’m a Klingon from Star Trek . I close my eyes, hoping to tune out the world around me. But Nico can’t let me be. He has other ideas.
“Do you have any family here?”
I shake my head. “No. I moved here because my company asked me to transfer and I thought it was a good opportunity.”
“How about friends?”
I shake my head and wince. Why does doing something so simple hurt?
“Just me.” I offer a fake smile.
“Summer Sadler.”
Upon hearing my name, I get to my feet and head to the triage nurse. To my surprise, Nico’s right at my side. We start by going over my personal information: name, date of birth, and insurance information. Once that’s done, she looks at Nico.
“Who do you have with you today?”
“I’m Nico,” he doesn’t hesitate before responding. “I’m her fiancé.”