Chapter Seven — Dinner on the Rocks
Alexis slips into her history class just as the early morning chatter begins to fade.
She has thirty minutes before the lecture starts, so she heads to the campus bookstore.
The smell of new textbooks, highlighters, and overpriced university merch wraps around her like a strange comfort.
She browses the aisles aimlessly, trying to distract herself from the chaos of the last few days.
After class ends, she heads straight to the mall. She needs a dress — something not too long, not too short. Something that feels like her again.
Two hours later, she finally finds it: A blue tennis dress with builtin shorts. Cute. Comfortable. Easy to move in. A dress that says she’s done being small.
She speeds out of the parking lot, heart racing, mind already planning the rest of the day. She’ll grab her workout clothes from home, change at the YMCA, and wear the new dress there. Why not? It’s practical. And she deserves to feel good.
Her phone dings.
Brandon: “Hey babe. Made it to math class.”
She stares at the message for a long moment. The word babe feels like a joke now.
2:30 p.m. — YMCA Parking Lot
Alexis starts to lift Bobby into the car, but Nico appears beside her like he’s been waiting for the exact moment she needed help.
“I got him,” Nico says gently, lifting Bobby with practiced ease.
Once he shuts the car door, he turns to her — and there’s something different in his eyes. Something bold. Something certain.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Do you want to go to dinner with me?”
Alexis freezes.
Dinner. With Nico.
Her heart stutters, but not in fear.
“Yes,” she says. “But… Can you come to my place? I might need help. I’m kicking Brandon out.”
Nico doesn’t even blink. “Bet. Say less. What time is dinner?”
“5:00 p.m.”
“I’ll see you then. Text me your address.”
He walks away with a confidence that makes her chest tighten — not with anxiety, but with something like relief.
Walmart — 3:00 p.m.
Alexis pulls into the parking lot, Bobby humming along to the radio in the backseat. She grabs ingredients for lasagna — comfort food, but also a statement. Tonight is about reclaiming her space, her peace, her future.
Back home, she preps dinner, sliding the lasagna into the oven. The house fills with the smell of garlic, cheese, and simmering tomato sauce.
While it cooks, she begins packing Brandon’s things. Clothes. Shoes. Random junk he left everywhere.
Every item she tosses into a box feels like shedding a layer of betrayal.
She’s halfway through the closet when she hears the front door open.
“Hey babe,” Brandon calls casually. “What’s smelling so good?”
Alexis turns slowly, eyes cold.
“Nothing for you,” she says. “You’re a lying sack of garbage.”
Brandon blinks, stunned. “Lex—”
“I packed up your shit. So kick rocks. We’re over.”
His face crumples. “But babe, I can change.”
“No,” she says sharply. “You had two years to change.”
A knock at the door interrupts him.
Alexis opens it to find Jack and Nico standing there.
Jack looks guilty. Nico looks ready to throw Brandon out himself.
Jack steps forward. “Didn’t you hear her? Get your shit and kindly kick rocks.”
Nico crosses his arms. “I’ve put up with you for far too long, dude. I came to say sorry to Alexis.”
Brandon looks between them — the truth finally cornering him — and realizes he has no allies left.
They take out the “smelly trash,” as Jack calls it, and Brandon leaves with his boxes, shoulders slumped, muttering excuses no one listens to.
Later That Night — Knocking Boots
Brandon sits at the bar, staring into a cheap drink. The neon lights flicker across his face, making him look even more hollow.
He came here looking for Brianna.
He finds her crying in a booth.
Her husband kicked her out. She’s homeless. They both are.
Karma doesn’t whisper tonight.
It screams. And Brandon finally hears it.
Nico & Alexis — Dinner on the Rocks (ThirdPerson, SlowBurn Tension)
By the time five o’clock approaches, the house is filled with the warm, comforting smell of lasagna and garlic bread. Soft golden light spills through the kitchen window, catching on the edges of the blue tennis dress Alexis chose earlier. She smooths the fabric, trying to steady her breathing.
Tonight isn’t a date. Not officially. But it isn't a date either.
A knock sounds at the door.
Her heart jumps.
When she opens it, Nico stands on the porch, hands tucked into his pockets, hair slightly tousled from the wind. He’s dressed simply — a black tee and jeans — but somehow he looks effortlessly good. His eyes soften when they land on her.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Smells amazing here.”
“Thanks. Come in.”
He steps inside, and the air shifts — subtle, but unmistakable. The house seems to settle around him, like it recognizes his presence. Like she does.
Bobby is in the living room flipping through a book. “Hey, Nico!”
“Hey, buddy,” Nico replies, giving him a fist bump before turning back to Alexis. “Need help with anything?”
She shakes her head. “Just plating.”
They move into the kitchen together, and for a moment it feels strangely natural — like they’ve done this a hundred times. Like this is a rhythm they’ve always shared.
Nico leans against the counter, watching her with quiet attentiveness. “How are you holding up?”
Alexis exhales slowly. “Better now. Today was… a lot.”
He nods, understanding more than she says aloud.
A pause settles between them — not awkward, but charged. Like the air is waiting.
She breaks it first. “Thank you. For everything. For telling me. For being honest when he wasn’t.”
Nico’s jaw tightens. “You deserved the truth. You always do.”
Her eyes drop to the lasagna, blinking back emotion. “I feel stupid. Two years, Nico. Two years he lied to me.”
“You’re not stupid,” he says immediately, stepping closer. “You trusted someone who didn’t deserve it. That’s not stupidity. That’s loyalty.”
His voice is steady, grounding.
She swallows. “It still hurts.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But you’re stronger than you think.”
She meets his eyes — and something inside her shifts. Softens. Warms.
He looks at her like he sees everything — the hurt, the anger, the exhaustion — and doesn’t flinch.
“Dinner’s ready,” she says, her voice softer than before.
They sit at the table — Alexis, Nico, and Bobby — but the energy is different. Bobby chats about his book, and Nico listens, but every so often his gaze drifts back to Alexis. Not in a possessive way. Not in a pushy way.
In a check on her way. Making sure she’s okay.
A way Brandon never managed.
After dinner, Bobby heads to his room to play games, leaving the kitchen quiet and warm around them.
Alexis gathers plates, but Nico steps forward, gently brushing her hand as he takes them.
“I got it,” he says.
The touch is brief — barely a second — but it sends a quiet spark through her.
When he returns, he leans against the counter again, arms crossed, eyes steady on her.
“You know,” he says softly, “you didn’t deserve any of what he put you through.”
She nods, voice low. “I know that now.”
“And you don’t have to go through the fallout alone.”
She looks up at him. “Why are you being so good to me?”
He hesitates — just for a heartbeat — then steps closer.
“Because I care,” he says quietly. “More than I probably should.”
Her breath catches.
The room feels smaller. Warmer. Charged.
“Nico…” she whispers.
He shakes his head gently. “I’m not pushing anything. I’m not expecting anything. I just want you to know you’re not alone. Not tonight. Not ever.”
The sincerity in his voice hits her harder than any confession could.
She takes a slow breath. “Thank you.”
He smiles — soft, warm, a little shy. “Anytime.”
For a moment, they simply stand there, the silence thick with something unspoken. Something new. Something dangerous in the best way.
Then Bobby calls from the living room, breaking the moment.
Nico steps back, clearing his throat. “I should probably head out.”
“Yeah,” she says, though part of her doesn’t want him to.
He walks to the door, pauses, and turns back.
“If you need anything — anything at all — call me.”
“I will.”
He gives her one last lingering look — warm, steady, full of something she isn’t ready to name — then steps outside.
When the door closes, Alexis leans against it, exhaling shakily.
For the first time in a long time, the house doesn’t feel empty.
It feels like the beginning of something.