Chapter Twenty-One
“Still not dead,” Nick said in congratulation as she wobbled the motorcycle to a stop in front of him. “Great job. Okay, Duncan’s heading out with the tow truck now. It’ll be fixed by nine a.m. tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Vi asked, cheeks still flushed from the motorcycle ride. “I know you don’t usually open on Sundays.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nick told her. Vi kicked the motorcycle stand into place and climbed off, trying to wipe the wide smile off her face.
The evening air was cool against her heated cheeks.
She felt giddy—from the motorcycle, from the birthday cake, from the fact that Nick still hadn’t admitted he’d covered her shift at the food bank today.
Was he really not going to say anything?
“Thank you,” she said. She raked her hands through her hair, grimacing at its sticky frizz. “For everything. You really saved the day, Nick.”
He blinked. He’d been staring at her hair again. Or maybe her wrist—her hair ribbon was tied in a dark knot around it, and she’d seen his gaze drift down once or twice at Gilbert’s birthday party.
“Can’t let you do it all the time,” he said.
“It was really nice not doing it alone,” Vi said thoughtfully. Then she laughed, still giddy. It went on long enough that Nick started spinning his rings around his fingers.
“What?” he asked nervously.
She shook her head. “Nothing! Next time I have a crisis, I’m gonna think, Huh. You know who would be great right now? Nick Wicker.”
She held out his helmet. He didn’t look down at it at first. He was too busy watching her face, looking away, glancing back again. Like she was a bright light he couldn’t look at head-on.
He likes me, Vi thought, and it felt like fireworks.
He cleared his throat, palming the helmet distractedly. “Motorcycle’s here if you want another ride. Later, I mean. Better than cruising around in your Honda Civic. No offense.”
“You offer up your motorcycle to a lot of girls?”
“No.” He grinned, hugging the motorcycle helmet to his chest like a kid. “Should I?”
She thought about pushing her hands through his messy hair. Pulling him in, right there on the sidewalk. He was looking at her like he expected her to invite him in.
Vi stepped back toward her house. “Want to come inside?”
She waited for Nick to break into that charming smile and agree. But Nick just stood there, scratching his stubble and looking at her with growing panic.
Vi’s smile faded. “Nick?”
“I’m actually really tired,” Nick said in a rush. “Rain check?”
“Oh.” Vi tried not to feel too disappointed, but it was hard. She had been so sure he wanted her. Wanted more than something casual even. “Sure,” she said. “I get it. It’s been a busy day.”
“Busy week,” Nick said with a weak chuckle. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“But now you’re back to normal,” Vi said slowly. “Right?”
“Eh, I don’t know.” Nick shrugged, spinning his motorcycle helmet in his big hands. “I’m kind of liking this whole getting into the community shtick. Just wish it let me take more naps.”
Vi laughed. “Right?”
Nick smiled amiably. Some of the hope Vi had been feeling drained out of her. If he liked her, he would do something about it. Maybe he was telling the truth: He really did just want to help his community. Who was Vi to assume otherwise?
She tapped the helmet curled in his arms. “Good night, Nick,” she said, far softer than she intended.
Nick blinked. His eyelashes were so very long. There was something in his face—wariness, hesitation. He reached up . . .
Electricity zipped down Vi’s spine, equal parts anxiety and longing. Was he looking at her mouth? Was he really going to kiss her out here, in full view of anyone looking out their window? They’d agreed on no PDA. They weren’t dating, after all.
He reached up and smoothed his thumb over her chin.
“Frosting,” he said quietly.
Vi blinked. “What?”
He held up his hand. His thumb was smeared with silver frosting from Gilbert’s cake.
“Oh,” Vi said faintly. “Right.”
Nick wiped his hand on his ripped jeans and climbed onto his motorcycle. There was a moment when he didn’t seem to know whether to wave or put his helmet on first, and he did an awkward half movement before waving with his helmet and shoving it on.
“Well,” he said, “it’s been real.”
Then he drove off, leaving Vi’s chin tingling where he’d touched her.
* * *
For the first time in years, Vi took a bubble bath. She used the bath bomb she’d been telling Gabriella about and settled into the purple foam with a cup of Sleepytime tea and next week’s book club book.
She managed exactly two minutes of this before her phone rang. She grabbed for it with damp hands, desperately relieved when she saw Gabriella’s name on the screen.
Please have something for me to do, she thought as she pressed Answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Gabriella said excitedly. “I got the posters! But they spelled my name wrong, so I’m adding an A at the end of my name on each one. Can you come over and help? It’ll take half the time if we both—”
“I’ll be there in five,” Vi told her.
* * *
Six minutes later, Vi was neatly tracing an A onto one of the several hundred posters stacked on Gabriella’s kitchen table.
“Um,” Gabriella said, eyes wide at Vi’s strange enthusiasm. “Never mind. What happened?”
Vi smiled thinly, not taking her eyes from the posters. “Nothing.”
She scrawled another A on a poster and slapped it onto the growing pile beside her, then reached for the next one.
“Uh-huh.” Gabriella put her felt-tip pen down, resting her chin in her hands as she scrutinized her sister: messy hair, no ribbon, wrinkled shirt from joining the kids in the newly cleaned bouncy castle, jeans she only wore when she hadn’t done laundry in a while.
“Are you sure?” Gabriella asked. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m not being weird,” Vi said, still scribbling.
Gabriella gasped. “Oh my god. Is it finally happening? Are we going to talk about a problem?”
“I don’t have—” Vi forced herself to stop. Even saying it sounded stupid. But Gabriella had already caught it.
“I’m Vi Harper,” Gabriella said in a singsong voice. “I don’t have problems. I just fix everyone else’s. I’m perfect!”
“I don’t sound like that,” Vi said, knee-jerk. She bent low over the posters, trying to distract her. “These are great, by the way. You did a really good job.”
“Don’t try to distract me with my posters,” Gabriella whined. “Did Triss back out of her extra days at the bookstore? Did Chester’s helper quit? I love that man, but I might quit if he was yelling at me every day about condensation ruining his precious books.”
“No,” Vi said. “I— My car broke down.”
“Oh.” Gabriella sat up, craning around the chair to see Vi’s bike leaning against the porch. “Your bike looks okay. Let me know if you need a ride.”
“Thanks,” Vi said.
Gabriella stared at her, waiting. “Is that it? Your car broke down?”
“Kind of. I . . .” Vi paused. “I rode a motorcycle.”
Gabriella’s gaze wandered, squinting, trying to connect the dots Vi wasn’t putting down. “Okay, back up. Start from the beginning.”
“So my car broke down. And Orc’s Garage is closed today—”
“I thought they were open on Saturdays?”
“Not always. Anyway, I thought I’d try calling Nick.”
Gabriella’s face lit up in a radiant, shit-eating smile.
“Don’t,” Vi warned.
Gabriella nodded, sucking in her lip. She gestured for Vi to continue.
Vi ran a hand through her hair, still stiff with sweat.
“He came out and looked it over. It’s getting fixed tomorrow.
But I needed to be at Suze’s house by one for Gilbert’s birthday party.
And he offered me a ride. And I accepted.
Then he, um, he re-iced the cake. Because it had the wrong name on it.
And Gilbert got a splinter in his foot, and Nick was .
. . He was so good with him. Just like when Chester fell.
He kept him so calm. And then he stuck around for another hour, I think because I asked him to.
And then he dropped me off. And now I’m here. ”
She sucked in a giant inhale. She’d barely breathed at all during that.
Gabriella waited. When it was clear Vi was finished, she leaned over and took Vi’s arm.
“Okay. I feel like there’s a lot you aren’t saying.”
“That’s everything that happened,” Vi said weakly.
“One,” Gabriella said over her, “you did not tell me he was so good after Chester’s fall! You just said he was there. I assumed he was a jackass about it. What else happened? Since when does he know how to re-ice a cake? I didn’t even know that was a thing! Maybe he’s the Baked Goods Bandit.”
Vi huffed a laugh, picking at the ribbon tied around her wrist. She didn’t feel like herself.
Vi Harper didn’t ride motorcycles and pine after the man in front of her.
She didn’t ride motorcycles period. She didn’t smile until her mouth hurt.
Didn’t get twisted up over a guy touching her chin.
Didn’t have casual sex with orcs she’d hated for years, orcs who made her stomach swoop like none of her sensible crushes ever had.
“You know how I’ve had more free time recently?” Vi began. “Nick’s been, like . . . He’s been stealing my stuff.”
“Your stuff,” Gabriella repeated. “Like . . .”
“Like the quiz night at Cozy Grotto Café! And little errands that people keep asking me about! And I was supposed to be at the food bank today, but Heath texted to say someone else was taking care of it, and when I called Nick today, I could hear Heath in the background! And sometimes I think . . . I don’t know, maybe you and Luna are right, and he does like me.
But then he doesn’t tell me things, and he never tries to sleep over—”
She stuttered to a stop.
Gabriella’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. He never what?”
Vi groaned. Then everything spilled out of her in a rush.
“I’msleepingwithNick.”
Gabriella screeched, slamming her hands down so hard, posters went flying. “YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH HIM?”
Vi caught the posters, but it was a lost cause. They were flying all around the kitchen while Gabriella yelled and giggled, uncaring about the posters she’d dragged Vi over to fix.
“Since when?” Gabriella hissed, face twisting in scandalized delight. “Who came on to who? Tell me everything.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Vi tried, her voice thin. “We just . . . After he came around to apologize for that first book club, it just happened. And we made these rules, these Friends with Benefits rules, because we both wanted it to be casual.”
“Did you set them up, or was it him?”
“Me,” Vi said reluctantly. “But he’s really happy with the rules! And then we started spending time together—”
“And now you like him,” Gabriella whispered. Her hands were squeezed over her chest, like she was watching the finale of her favorite show.
Vi groaned. “I didn’t mean to! I thought he was perfect for a casual thing.
It’s Nick Wicker! But now he’s . . . He’s sweet!
He keeps doing all this stuff, so I don’t have to, and he says it’s because he wants to help out in the community, but I don’t know.
And he brings fancy baked goods to book club, and he’s actually good at talking about books now.
He talked about themes the other day, and he’s so fun.
He makes me laugh. He sees me, past all the crap I show everybody else, and I think—”
Vi stopped. This last part was harder than she thought. She raised a hand to touch her chin where he’d wiped off the frosting. There had been a second when she’d been sure he was going to confess something.
“I think he likes me,” she admitted quietly. “Like, maybe he wants it to be real?”
Gabriella nodded quickly, hair bouncing. “Do you want it to be real?”
Vi made a face.
Gabriella fell against her, squealing.
“Shut up.” Vi scowled, kicking her.
Gabriella kicked back, hard. “You should ask him out!”
“No,” Vi said, so loud it surprised both of them.
Vi lowered her voice, smoothing out the posters between them.
“I don’t want to say anything unless I know for sure he wants more.
Maybe he likes me but he still wants to keep it casual!
I bet he’s one of those guys who could be crazy about a girl, but he still won’t commit. ”
Gabriella held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
“I would rather eat it,” Vi said, curling a hand protectively over the lump in her pocket.
“Come on! Just ask him to help you with something totally stupid and see what he says. Ask him . . . Hmm.” Gabriella ground her teeth, thinking.
Vi sighed. “Don’t grind your teeth. You know what your dentist said.”
Gabriella ignored her. “Ask him to help you out with the sales stickers! That always takes ages, and you’re understaffed. Even if he’s not super into you—”
“He might not be!”
“Well, you might as well take advantage of his whole helpful thing while you can,” Gabriella finished. “It’s about time you asked someone for help.”
Vi glared at her. Gabriella made puppy-dog eyes that weren’t cute when she was eight and still weren’t now.
Vi stood up from the kitchen table.
“I’m going to bed,” she announced. “I’ll come back tomorrow before work to help with the posters.”
Gabriella waved her away. “Don’t worry about the posters. This was mostly an excuse to make you come over! If I ask to hang out, you usually say no. But if I ask for help, you always say yes.”
“What?” Vi said. “That’s not . . . That isn’t true.”
Gabriella shrugged, signing another poster with a flourish. “Go home and get some sleep, okay? You need it.”
Vi suddenly felt like she was the little sister, not Gabriella. But Gabriella seemed perfectly happy to work on the posters herself, humming as she signed the extra A at the end of her name.
Vi shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Then she said, with as much conviction as she could muster: “This conversation never happened.”
“You gotta let love in,” Gabriella called after Vi as she strode down the driveway. “Vi! You gotta let it in, Vi!”
Vi shook her head and climbed onto her bike, pushing off into the dark street. Wintry wind skimmed over her head, gentle and icy. Nothing like a motorbike. No hard back pressed against her front, no chest expanding against her hands.
He still smelled like motor oil. Halfway through her bike ride home, Vi realized she kind of liked it.