Twenty-Three
There were upsides to spending a night in a tent making out with Nico Hever, like waking with her head on his shoulder, propped off the hard ground, and snuggled cozily into his side.
It was probably less comfortable for Nico, but Valerie felt great.
It made up for the sun beaming down to release the full aromatic power of weed, old socks, and patchouli wafting from the tent’s interior, although they’d poked their heads back out to sleep.
The way he’d touched her… She closed her eyes to think about it.
Sometimes kissing a man was a minefield, as she tried to navigate the fine line between what she wanted and what she thought he’d want.
There was none of that with Nico. He’d shown her what he liked, and how he liked her, and had encouraged her to do the same.
Removing that layer of anxious tension had been liberating and she could let herself enjoy the feel of his hands and mouth, instead of worrying about whether she was responding in the right way and trying to rush her pleasure because she was anxious about taking too long or was focused ahead on how she should reciprocate.
On the downside, she was now both sweaty and chilly. It was disagreeable and did nothing for the sensual persona she would have liked to project.
Or was that the wrong way to go? She chewed her lip—a bit swollen—as Nico stirred enough to throw an arm over his eyes.
She didn’t like playing games but she also wasn’t sure about how much emotional vulnerability to show.
After almost two weeks of seeing him every day, she knew Nico wasn’t the kind of guy to use someone for sex, but what if now that the pre-sex edge was off, all the things he could previously overlook in her became amplified? What if things changed?
Even if he’d made her a daisy crown because they were her favorite flower. She’d have to remember to keep one to press in her journal.
Valerie mulled it over as people began stumbling out of the surrounding tents in various states of undress, including someone wearing tighty-whities with a fur vest that looked like a repurposed bathroom rug slung over their shoulders.
She wished she could text someone to talk.
Dalia seemed like a person who would give good advice.
She couldn’t, though. She’d learned the hard way that it was best to be careful about how much and what she said.
Oversharing was not caring to most people. She was on her own, as usual.
Nico was constrained and serious, and it made sense that’s what he’d feel comfortable with.
She’d sworn not to diminish herself for someone again, but the second Nico opened his eyes, she found herself falling into old habits.
Her voice softened and she hunched in, hating herself for it.
But she didn’t want to scare him off by covering him with a big hug and nuzzling her face into his neck to breathe him in.
The morning after could be messy, and she would do her best to make it as frictionless as possible.
“Good morning,” he said. His voice was husky from sleep. Extremely sexy. “How do you feel?” He took a huge breath, then gave her a big toothy grin that was so out of character she scooted back a bit.
“Fine, thanks. You?”
Nico continued to look at her with that disturbing expression. “It was perfect. I had a perfect night with you. I’d love to talk about it.”
He would? She couldn’t help but physically side-eye him before remembering she wanted to make it easy for him to continue to like her.
“Sure, of course. Whatever you want. Maybe we can talk in the car? I want to get on the road to beat the traffic.” Nico loved beating traffic. This was a slam dunk to his heart.
“I thought we’d go back to the faire and get some breakfast,” he said. “It doesn’t matter when we get back.”
He was definitely being strange, which was enough to kick off her anxiety. “Okay?”
They split up to get ready. Valerie did the best she could to clean up with the supplies at hand and spent a few minutes picking shredded toilet paper out of her armpits before heading back to the tent.
Nico was talking with Fred, who was dressed in a Nike sweatsuit with the leftovers of what looked like rosemary sprigs tucked in his beard braid.
“Did you try the mead?” he asked cheerfully.
“I did.” She handed over a gift certificate for two passes to next year’s faire that they’d picked up at the admission booth yesterday. “Thank you again for the tent.”
Fred protested but finally accepted the passes. “We’d love to see you next year,” he said. “These get in your blood.”
Valerie had to agree.
They waved a final goodbye to Fred, and headed to the faire for food.
Nico went out of his way to provide a running commentary on everything they passed, or tried to.
At some points, he was limited to simply saying “mace” or “goblin hat.” Valerie, on the other hand, was cautious about saying too much.
Worried Nico might think it weird, she tucked Odile the Gnome in her bag instead of letting her peep out for all the world to see.
“I’ll be back in a second,” said Nico. He disappeared toward the stalls at the end of the row, while Valerie perused the ornately scripted menus nearby.
The coffee line was the longest of them all, so a Coke would have to serve her caffeine needs.
She was debating between a funnel cake covered with an Everest of whipped cream or a Scotch egg, because she’d never had one, when Nico manifested at her elbow holding a bowl of lumpy brownish sludge.
“What’s that?” she asked, expecting to see something glowing a radioactive green rise from its depths.
“Butter-chicken-covered deep-fried chili-mac-and-cheese bites.” He took a fork and fished through for one of the misshapen nuggets, which fell apart the second he lifted it up. He scooped up the remnants and put them manfully in his mouth.
“How is it?”
“It’s good,” he choked out.
“It doesn’t look good,” she said doubtfully. “Why did you get that?”
“I love trying new things.” He closed his eyes before shoving his fork in again.
That was it. Valerie burst out laughing. “No, you don’t. You make fun of Roger’s oatmeal packs, but you only have black coffee for breakfast, and if you do eat, it’s nothing more adventurous than toast or fruit.”
Nico put down the dish with a grimace. “All right,” he admitted. “I don’t. But you do.”
“So?”
Nico turned his frown to the blue sky. “I wanted to show you that I can be like that too. Up for anything, the kind of man you like.”
“What?” This blew her mind. “I don’t want that. I was trying to be the kind of woman you’d like.”
“Is that why you were so quiet? I thought you were recovering from too much mead.”
“Please, I only had one. Nothing about last night was mead-influenced.” She sat down at a picnic table. “I had a good time. Then I woke up and got worried things were going to change.”
He took a seat across from her. “Change like how?”
Valerie traced the metal bolt heads in the wood. “That you’d find me too much. People do. I’m fun for a while, but then they get tired of dealing with me.”
“You mentioned that yesterday,” he said. “In the car. Who does that?” His mouth was a thin line.
“I don’t know. People.” She shrugged. “You said as much about your sister.”
“It’s like nothing to do with Stefanie, I promise. You’re different people, and we have different relationships.” He took her hands. “I’m going to tell you again: I like how you are. I love the way you get excited about things. It makes me look at the world in a new way.”
Her heart was pounding. “You say that now.”
“Valerie, I’ve found you fascinating since we met. It’s only grown.”
She felt her mood lift. “Really?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since day one.” He sounded certain.
“I like you the way you are. I like the way you tease because it makes me take things less seriously. I like the way your mind works, because you think of things that never occur to me. I like the way you’re open to anything, like helping Roger and sleeping in a stranger’s tent.
It’s a miracle to me that you’ve survived, to be honest.”
She listened closely, and this time she let herself truly believe him. “I like you the way you are too.”
“You do?”
“I like how you organize things. It makes me feel secure, like you’ve thought through all the possibilities and found solutions.
I like that you’re so rational because it gives me a different perspective.
I like being quiet with you.” She stood up and walked around the table to sit next to him. “I like kissing you.”
“Good, because I like kissing you.” He leaned in and the morning sounds of the faire faded as she forgot about breakfast completely.
* * *
An hour later, they were in the car debating what was worse, the Scotch egg or the mac-and-cheese bites. “A Scotch egg is basically an all-in-one breakfast,” Valerie argued. “You have the sausage and the egg right there. It can’t be the worse choice.”
“What about the toast?”
“Bread crumbs count.”
“Counterargument,” said Nico. “It was soggy.”
“The mac-and-cheese bites were soggier and also gross. I don’t know how a combination of so many tastes could have no flavor.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“I disagree.”
That made him laugh. It was nice to have cleared the air because it meant Valerie could finally touch Nico the way she wanted.
Back hugs in line for breakfast ice cream.
Holding hands. Kisses. She’d been worried Nico wouldn’t be into low-key PDA, but he seemed to almost glow when she sat close.
He’d mentioned it had been over a year since he’d dated and she wondered if he was a little touch starved.
She was, too, to be honest.
They were in the car on their way back to Villa Badgerton Shores (“No,” said Nico simply) when Valerie’s phone rang.
“Hello, Valerie.” It was Penny, and Valerie put it on speaker so Nico could hear.