13. Nick
NICK
All I’ve Ever Known - Hadestown
This is fine. Everything’s fine. I’m casually sitting next to the girl I’ve had a crush on since high school, with my arm around her waist, while she rests her hand on my thigh. My thigh .
Jesus Christ. I already fucked up three bingo cards and had to start over.
The pain that scorched across her face when she was stung had been enough for me to forget I’m not supposed to be a walking Junie Danielowicz encyclopedia. I was so worried that there wasn’t time to pretend I didn’t know about her allergy.
I glance at her arm. The hives are pink splotches now and most of the swelling is gone. It takes all of my resolve not to gather her up and make her sit in my lap.
Seeing her hurt … I hated it, felt her pain like it was mine. This need to comfort her is overwhelming. If I wasn’t on the fucking Conservatory bus, I’d already have carried her out. But I content myself with these little touches. At least they’re reassuring. She’s here, she’s here and she’s okay.
“Hey, they called I46 like, five minutes ago. You only need one more for bingo.” June taps my card, but it’s hard to concentrate. How far up my thigh will she slide her hand?
“Thanks for the heads up, doll,” I tease.
She sticks her tongue out. “Doll gives me the ick. A little objectification is okay, but that’s too far.”
“You’re very picky about pet names.” I love that it’s an inside joke between us, finding a nickname. Maybe one day I’ll be able to use the real pet name I want, but I worry it’ll hit too close to home, reveal too much.
“Bingo!” An older woman with an impressive bouffant jumps up.
“Alas, she beat you to it,” June whispers close to my ear, stifling a laugh. Little puffs of air caress my neck, stippling my skin with goose flesh.
The woman hands her card to the closest attendant who nods, so she struts up front, waving her winning bingo card in the air.
“Damn, I could’ve used an air fryer, too,” Willow jokes.
June laughs, shaking dried beans off her bingo card. “You could just buy one.”
“The food tastes better if it’s free,” she reasons, standing and stretching her legs. We stand too and leave the bingo tent.
Willow’s eyes dart to a food stall. “Hey, I see some friends that way. No offense, but this is as much cuteness as I can take.”
June detaches from me to hug her sister. “Have fun storming the funnel cake line!”
“Was that a Princess Bride reference?” I ask.
Willow steps back, scrunching up her face. “Aww, he gets your dorky jokes. He’s a keeper, Junie.”
“Good to see you again.” I dip my chin to June’s sister. Her too-observant gaze and sharp wit still scare the shit out of me.
“ Very nice to see you, too.” She arches a brow and saunters off.
June leans into me again and I pull her snug against my side. “The Conservatory bus is taking off soon. Do you want a ride back? We can grab my car and eat a dinner that doesn’t consist of deep frying three different food groups.”
“But that’s the appeal of the fair,” she whines, reaching for my hand, no longer cradling her injured arm.
“Lead the way, then.”
June stops walking, her gaze fixed on mine. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you really want to go, we can.”
“Not at all. Nothing would thrill me more than watching you eat deep-fried butter.”
“Wait, there’s deep-fried butter?” Her eyes light up and she bites her bottom lip.
She says something else, but I don’t catch it because we’re passing the caramel popcorn stand and there’s my dad. With his arm around …
“Shelley?” I murmur.
“Hmm?” June turns her face up, and though I feel her eyes on mine, I can’t look away from my dad and Shelley Williams.
Eventually June’s gaze shifts to where I’m looking. She smiles and waves. “Hey, it’s Shelley.”
She and my dad amble over, their hands laced together. Though the hesitation in Dad’s eyes pierces my chest.
“Nicky.” He tips his head toward mine.
“Nicky?” June asks, teasing in her voice, but confusion, too.
“June, this is my dad, Don. Dad, do you remember?—”
“Junie Danielowicz.” He pumps her uninjured hand with vigor. “’Course I remember. You were in all the shows when we came to see Nicky play. He was always talking about you.”
“Aww, sweet.” She smiles up at me, blissfully unaware that my world is rocked. Not only is my dad dating again, the first girlfriend I’ve seen him with since Mom died, but it’s Shelley. June bats my arm. “You never told me your dad and Shelley were together.”
My eyes cut to his. I can’t help it. At least he has the decency to look sheepish. I exhale, forcing my tense shoulders to soften. “It’s news to me, too.”
“Oh.” June’s soft intake of breath is quiet. She saw through my calm mask.
“Donovan, you said you two talked,” Shelley chides, giving their entwined hands a shake.
“We did. Yesterday.” He looks at me, and whatever he sees on my face makes him add, “Sort of.”
Shelley snorts a laugh and she seems … happy. I can’t remember the last time I saw her smile like this. Her eyes flit between June and I. “I could say the same about you two. I had to hear it from campers that, apparently, you and June have been together for months?”
“Um, well …” I begin.
“Guilty.” June’s smile is indulgent. “It’s my fault, I asked Nick to keep it under wraps.”
“I want to hear all about it. We’ll have to double date,” Shelley replies.
The two women continue talking about camp, the fair, and this dinner that’s allegedly happening now.
And I can’t help but get lost in my thoughts.
Growing up, I’d gotten used to his disappointment, like when he asked me to go fishing when I had rehearsal.
And he never bothered to sit and watch musical movies with Mom and me.
After she died, he showed zero interest in my music.
Now he’s dating the director of a performing arts Conservatory. Not to mention, Shelley is a flutist herself. Sometimes she even performs with the Conservatory orchestra on Saturday nights.
And I never thought Dad cared so little that he wouldn’t tell me about his girlfriend.
Though he hadn’t wanted to tell me about his accident, either.
I need space; a few minutes to wrap my head around this news.
“Let’s plan that dinner, okay? I’m supposed to catch the bus back to Conservatory. It was g-great to see you both.”
And it had been great… ly surprising.
Shelley, all grace and class, doesn’t comment on how I tripped over my words, simply squeezing my shoulder, saying, “You too.”
My feet must’ve moved, because the fair stalls flash in bright reds and yellows, and June keeps pace beside me. But I left my brain behind with my dad. And Shelley.
June keeps up a steady stream of observations but I’m barely paying attention. I only notice when we come to a stop at the front of the fairgrounds.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
“Well.” June plants herself in front of me, waiting until I meet her eyes. “I’m going to go hang out with my parents, and you’re getting on the Conservatory bus because that’s how you got here. Will you be okay to drive?”
“I’m fine—wait, you’re not coming?” Adrenaline spikes and with it, painful clarity. Have I fucked everything up already?
She reaches up with her good arm, wrapping it around my neck and pulling me close. This isn’t the flirty way we’ve touched all afternoon. Her hug is warm, welcome. I relax against her, and my shoulders—which were apparently tight this whole time—release. “What’s up with you and your dad?”
“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Let alone that it was Shelley.”
“That was obvious. Are you two not close? Or …” She trails off, biting her bottom lip.
“Not when I was growing up. But, after the accident, I thought we were close. Clos er . Not him, I guess.” I shake my head like that’ll do anything, but my brain’s still spinning.
She hugs me one more time, quickly, and I lock my body up tight so I don’t chase her heat when she lets go. “You need some time, I get that. I’ll see you on Monday?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“I wish. I’m back here.”
“But your arm?—”
“It’s not that bad, see?” She holds it up, and while it’s still swollen, she’s right. It’s looking better and better.
“Yeah, Monday, then. Actually, I forgot to tell you, I booked us a practice room to rehearse our cabaret number on Monday. I’ve got a lesson beforehand, so I signed the room out for two hours.”
She goes to pull away but hesitates, then brushes her lips against my cheek. “Can’t wait.”
It takes all my strength to let her go, not drag her onto the bus and make her stay. She eases something in my chest. Another part of her I’m addicted to, even though it’s dangerous. In four weeks, June’s leaving will cause the tightening in my chest, and of course, she won’t be there to soften it.
The ride back is quiet, as predicted, and the bus pulls into the parking lot near the Kinney Run Student Center. I should head home, shower, and change for the Saturday Conservatory choir concert.
But that feeling’s back, the one from before camp started. What’s the point?
“Yo,” Ethan yells as he exits the student center. “You get sunstroke or something?”
I shake my head, and his brows go up. He’s lugging a banker’s box full of programs, and instead of running them over to Langford Hall, he shoves them in the backseat of his car and says, “Get in. You need a taco.”
My stomach chooses that second to remind me I didn’t eat anything at the fair because I’d been so focused on June. I slide into the passenger seat. “Yeah, tacos.”
Ethan tugs his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, inspecting me. “And guac. You definitely need guac.”
We drive toward a hole-in-the-wall spot we’ve eaten at since college, chatting about Conservatory, all surface-level, easy conversation. Ethan pulls into a parking space in a crumbling lot attached to an old strip mall.