20. Nick
NICK
Something to Believe In - Newsies
I rub my thumb and forefinger across my brow, but I can’t massage away the vicelike grip of tension throbbing at my temples. June’s quiet, and the silence deepens the farther we get from the loud music thumping from the Student Center.
We make it to the dining hall doors, and I focus on the door handle as I pull it open. I can’t look at her. “Want to tell me what Chantal’s talking about?”
The hall’s completely dark, and I flick on the lights, steeling myself to see her face.
“She has a crush on Drew, obviously. And I may have advised her to act her butt off, and that putting that kind of passion into something is an attractive quality in someone’s eye.”
“It is,” I rasp. Being that close to June during cabaret, making music with her, it woke something in me. I clear my throat. “But what was she talking about? Revenge?”
I push on the swinging door into the kitchen, turning on more lights and grabbing a milk crate to give June a second to compose her answer.
She runs a hand over the massive steel prep table in the center of the room, voice quiet.
“I said if you don’t get the part you want, the best revenge is nailing the part you did get. ”
I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. Fuck, this headache won’t quit. “I get why you’d say that. It’s hard getting through to them and you wanted to, I don’t know, spice it up so she’d listen.”
“Spice it up?” June laughs, but I sigh.
After everything with my dad, I’m too exhausted to pick through my words. “Teaching’s not about those big moments, though. The speeches where the spotlight’s on you. It’s about showing up. Every day. In little ways. You should’ve checked in with Chantal.”
June circles the table, eyeing her hand as it slides across the smooth metal.
“She wouldn’t have listened if I’d talked to her again.
I can only impart so much wisdom at a time, and I hadn’t gotten around to the ‘if you have to chase someone, they’re not meant for you’ conversation.
” Her steps stutter, and she curses. “Shit. That would’ve been another speech, wouldn’t it? ”
I grab some small bags of chips from a cupboard, trying not to squeeze them too hard as they crinkle in my hands.
“Exactly. You just need to check in with the kids sometimes, see how they’re managing their feelings.
If the situation’s about to boil over, it’s easier to try to avert it rather than do damage control after the fact. ”
She sniffs, and I must be some kind of masochist, because my gaze snaps to her face, to her too shiny eyes, the lines of pink across her cheekbones. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Those kinds of conversations aren’t one and done. The kids are still learning. I’m still learning.”
“I get that you’re learning as you go, but June”—I dump the bags of chips in the milk crate, then curl my fingers along the hard plastic edge—“Shelley might call a disciplinary meeting. She’s serious about bullying.”
She blanches, mouth dropping open. “Oh, fuck .”
I nod, my lips rolling together.
“I fucked everything up.” June presses a palm to her chest, shoulders bowing forward.
Shit. Fuck, shit . I can’t stand here and do nothing as June berates herself. I move fast around the table, catching my toe on one of the legs, but I don’t feel the pain. “Don’t cry. Please.” My arms go around her, and she buries her face in my chest.
“I can’t do this,” she mumbles against me.
My whole body tenses. Does she mean us? “Can’t do what?”
Her forehead rests against my sternum, hands clutching my shirt. “Teach. I’m terrible with kids. I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m making everything worse.”
“You’re not,” I say, but she shakes her head.
Some of her hair catches on the stubble of my jaw.
I take her face in both hands, tilting her head back until our eyes meet.
A tear clings to her lower lashes, and I brush it away with a thumb.
“You’re not. You care. So much. That’s the most important thing.
No one expects you to be perfect, okay?”
Her eyes waver between mine as she bites her lower lip. “I failed Chantal. I’m failing these kids. Why did I think I could do this?”
Listening to her disparage herself stuns me. Her talent, her drive, her whole career is staggeringly incredible, and I don’t know what to say in the face of her self-doubt.
But I must take too long to answer because her face crumples as she whispers, “I knew it.”
“No.” I shake my head, but her eyes are closed. I slide my hands back to run through her hair until her gaze rests on mine again. “ No . You’re not failing, you never could. June, what—what happened? You weren’t like this in high school.”
“Like what?” She sniffs, pulling back to rub the heel of her hand along the outside of her eye. The movement smears her mascara and it’s … jarring. I’ve only ever seen her put together.
“You were always so confident,” I whisper.
She rasps out a throaty laugh. “Do you know how easy it is to be confident when you’re a teenager?”
“No,” I scoff.
Her eyes soften. “I was excited about life beyond Sadlersburg. It was easy to believe I was destined for bigger and better things.”
“Because you are. Your voice is magic, June.”
But the truth doesn’t make her smile, not the way I thought it would. Her lips curve up slowly, sad and tremulous. “Talent like mine isn’t that rare.”
“It is rare. Coupled with your drive, I—” I sigh, my mouth slack-jawed. “I wish you saw yourself the way I see you.”
Something odd passes over her face, but she blinks and it’s gone. “I’m not perfect. Nowhere close.”
I step closer, erasing the small distance she put between us. But it still doesn’t feel close enough. “I already told you, you don't have to be perfect. Just perfect for me.”
“Nick.” The breathy, needy way she says my name is better than any music I’ve ever heard.
“Yeah, June?” I know what she wants, but god damn if I don’t want to hear her beg.
“Kiss me?” It’s a question, like she doesn’t know I’d spend the rest of my life kissing her if she let me.
My thumb slides across her lower lip, tugging it down until she parts her mouth.
Her tongue flicks my thumb, hot and wet and so soft against my skin.
The sensation buzzes over my spine until I’m half hard from that small touch.
Slanting my lips over hers, I capture her mouth, claim it.
I need to kiss her until she feels the truth of my words.
That I’d spend every day showing her how perfect she is.
Our kiss turns frantic, hands sliding everywhere, chests heaving.
I turn June and walk her back to the table, lifting below the curve of her ass to set her on the tabletop.
Her legs wrap around my waist. The weight of her, the warm cradle of her hips—I can’t stop myself from rocking into her as I kiss her neck.
A whine builds in her throat, vibrating against my lips. I have to taste how much she wants me. My mouth crashes on hers again and it’s tongues and teeth and breaths and need .
Her hands flutter at the hem of my shirt, then the tips of her fingers glide against my bare stomach.
A tremor runs through me from her touch.
I brace one hand on the table, the other at the back of her neck, as I lean into her, pushing her back toward the table.
I need to feel her beneath me, range myself out over every inch of her.
One of her hands slides up my arm, to my face, brushing my hair back.
Her touch is so … tender. It twists and knots itself in my chest so tight I’ll hold it there forever.
I break the kiss, pulling back to scan her face.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous like this. Her lips kiss-swollen.
From me . Her face flushed. From me . Hair wild. From me .
Mine , mine , mine .
The word echoes with every beat of my heart.
But her eyes are uncertain, tight at the corners and searching. Right. She hasn’t been dreaming of this for over a decade. I brush my forehead against hers, and our breathing slows together. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize.” She brushes her lips against my cheek. “I want this. I want you. But like, not where my breakfast will be prepared tomorrow morning.”
I bark out a laugh. “When’s your dorm duty over?”
Her breath catches. She has to know what I'm really asking. “Saturday night’s my last night. I’m free Sunday.”
I press a kiss below her ear, inhaling deep. Her smell—perfume, mixed with shampoo, and beneath that, the delicate scent of her skin—is better than any drug. “After bowling with Nat and Chessie, would you spend the night with me?”
She runs the back of her hand over my jaw, her nails rasping against my five o’clock shadow. “God, yes.”
I lean into her hand, a zing of satisfaction running through me when she kisses me once, hard, like she can’t get enough, either. “Good.”
June settles back on her hands, and even though it only puts about six inches between us, she’s too far. She nibbles at the corner of her lip. “I really am sorry about Chantal. If Shelley holds a meeting, I’ll go. Beg her to give Chantal another chance.”
She thinks she’s a terrible teacher, but going to bat for one of your kids? That will mean the world to Chantal. My hands run down the outside of her thighs, palms snagging against the smooth silk of her skirt. “Shelley might not, we won’t know until tomorrow, angel.”
Her previously fading blush returns in full force.
My pet name turning her on? I fucking love it.
I want to use it every day; I want to say it when I’m inside her.
We stay this way for a moment, staring at each other in the silence of the deserted kitchen.
I like having her to myself, and I’m not ready to share.
“Is now a good time to ask how your dad’s appointment went?” She tilts her head, studying me.
I sigh. “I wouldn’t know, Shelley took him.”
“And he didn’t even tell you?”