SNAPPED LIKE A TWIG
TALLULAH
I was eighty-five percent sure that Nick had serious feelings for me.
No. Eighty-seven percent.
With the way Nick shut down afterwards, I doubted my number. He refused to talk about it, changed topics, forced himself into this loop I couldn’t bring him out of.
I didn’t know what to do.
And…did Nick slip up? I knew what his basic goals were. He wanted monogamy, a girlfriend, something serious after he’d shed his playboy persona. Was that potential partner me? Or was I a rung on a ladder to get there?
Once again, did I like another boy more than he liked me?
That’d been the fault in my previous relationship with Fridge. Now that I knew Fridge had been waiting for me to break up with him, that his desire for us to get back together was only because he wanted stability in California, I was very aware of the situation I found myself in with Nick.
What if I was making another mistake? What if I was pressing repeat on a song I didn’t like, going through the motions, doing the same thing?
If only Nick would talk to me.
For the first time in weeks, Nick said he had an early gym session with Tomasini, and I ate breakfast alone.
The internship was almost finished, we had our tickets bought for the trip home. My stomach churned with anxiety. It was pretty obvious when I met up with Max for another tour of the stadium.
“Earth to Tallulah,” Max teased, nudging me with his shoulder. “Tallulah?”
“Mm? Yeah?”
“Did you hear me?”
“About what?”
He chuckled. “Uhhh…I’m sorry about your fight with Nick.”
“What?”
“He hasn’t texted you all morning…”
Max had a point. I didn’t realize how often Nick and I messaged each other until my phone was silent.
Nick wasn’t purposely withholding communication from me, this wasn’t some kind of punishment, he wouldn’t do that.
The reason was more complex. Nick was in some sort of spiral and I was on the outskirts of it.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with him,” Max said soothingly.
“I—I don’t deal with him, that’s not how I’d say—” I smoothed down my braid. “I—”
“Are you going to Tomasini’s charity gala?”
My shoulders relaxed at the change of topic.
Andrew had sent out an email to the interns—Nick wasn’t the only one required to go to Tomasini’s big night.
The interns were too. Politicians, famous people, important figures for the Olympics, were flying in and Tomasini was receiving them at a ballroom in a downtown hotel.
It was a charity gala for Bud’s Legacy, something about saving moose calves from bears?
The charity’s message was pretty shaky. They’d been under increased scrutiny for where its donations were going to, and the charity was in several scandals for ‘misappropriating funds’ with helicopter rides and fifty-thousand-dollar dinners.
Well, what newspaper articles I could dig up anyway. This was one of Tomasini’s charities, so the reports against him were few and far between.
“I think I have to,” I admitted. “Andrew’s making a big deal about it.”
“You’re going with Nick, aren’t you?”
I fumbled for an answer. We hadn’t discussed it. Would we go together? Probably not because Nick liked keeping me a safe distance from Tomasini. I didn’t know.
“I was wondering if you’d go with me,” Max finished.
Like as a friend? A coworker? Or…? With a start, I realized how Max’s blue eyes drifted down my body, my blouse, settling on very definitive, suggestive places.
Blood rushed to my face.
Oh my god—Nick was right.
Max was hitting on me.
Had he been hitting on me this whole time and I never picked up on it?
It was…flattering? Sort of? I mean, from my side of the equation, there was zero sexual chemistry.
After experiencing a waterfall of tension with Nick, being with Max was like being with a distant cousin. Or maybe a garden gnome.
He was…nice? I guess?
A bitter taste filled my mouth when I imagined Max like that at all. It felt so wrong to think like that, a direct betrayal to Nick.
Was it really? Nick and I weren’t officially dating. We went on dates, sure, but was that dating? Not exclusively. And Nick told me he didn’t love me—
That line of thinking was such bullshit. If Nick found out that Max had asked me out, if Nick found out that any man asked me out, he’d come unglued. It’d be this huge dramatic thing. I knew where Nick stood on the issue.
“Thank—thank you,” I stuttered. “I—um—don’t think that would be appropriate because of the…professional relationship we have.”
“So you’re going with Nick?”
“Um…”
Max frowned. “He didn’t ask you?”
“Um…”
“You’re going to hang around for a guy who’s ignoring you?”
My face flamed hotter. “Um—”
“Because that’s what Nick’s known for. Using girls and leaving them out to dry.”
“I’m not comfortable talking about—” I cleared my throat, sliding my phone out of my purse. “Do you mind if I take ten to fill up my water bottle? I—I need a drink—”
“Yeah, sure.” He flashed a pearly-white smile. “Think about what I said, okay? I don’t want to see you end up like those other girls.”
Because the stadium would still be in construction leading up to the first day of the Olympics, there was only one operational restaurant.
It was a Mexican spot two floors up and I scurried to it, filling up my water bottle at the station and catching my breath on the covered balcony, looking over Toronto.
I wanted Nick to stop avoiding things and talk to me. Even more than that, I wanted us to say out loud where we stood. Ugh. Was that where I’d staked myself? Hanging around for a guy to decide if he actually had feelings for me?
I pulled out my phone, debating on calling. With a shake of my head, I dialed Nick’s number, resisting the urge to hang up.
The call connected almost instantaneously, yet there was only silence.
Why did Nick have to make this so awkward? Even if that thirteen percent was correct and Nick said ‘I love you’ by accident, why couldn’t we move past it? Instead of it being this huge elephant in the room?
“Hi,” I finally said.
“Hi,” he said, his voice uncomfortable.
“I wanted to ask about Tomasini’s charity gala,” I prompted, putting my arms over the balcony’s railing. “I was wondering if…you and I are going together or…?”
“No, we’re not,” he answered. “I don’t want Tomasini to…we’re not going together.”
“Okay. That’s it, that’s all I wanted to—”
There was a sharp intake over the line. “Max asked you.”
I froze. “Uh…”
“Max asked you?”
“He—uh—” I cleared my throat, face flushed. “Um—”
Nick’s indifference snapped like a twig. “The cyclist who failed out of being a skier? You know, the sport where you’re supposed to tumble down a goddamn hill? He can’t do that right, but I bet he’d make such a great boyfriend!”
A sick thrill rushed through me as Nick’s words overlapped, dripping with jealousy.
Nick was jealous.
Nicholas Kurosawa was jealous of a guy who asked me out. His sudden concern was a toxic tonic to his attitude problem. It was fucked up how good it felt. I was breathless with the realization, shamelessly pleased.
Eighty-seven percent bumped up to ninety-four.
I was ninety-four percent sure that Nick had serious feelings for me.
The jealousy emboldened me, giving me leverage to stand on.
“Is there anything you want to talk to me about?” I pressed. “Anything at all?”
“Like what?”
“You’ve been tense since we had sex. Like something’s on your mind.”
“Tallulah.” I could hear him grinding his teeth over the call. “Max Welles couldn’t find your clit if you gave him a fucking map.”
“Well, I’m not going with him.”
“You’re not?”
“No. It’d be unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional?” he repeated. “You know he’ll try to fuck you after?”
“I’m not going with him—”
“You know what he told me?”
“I’m not going with him—”
“Part of the reason he wants you is because he wants to get back at me.”
“What?” I blinked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He ignored that. “This is a power trip thing. If you give into it, then he—”
Didn’t I already say I wasn’t going to go with Max? Irritation rippled through me. I couldn’t believe Nick had never bothered to tell me. Why wouldn’t he be upfront about that?
“You’re trying to pick a fight with me and I don’t know why,” I said impatiently. “I already told you I’m not going with Max. I know you don’t like him. I know you slept with his teammate’s girlfriend and he lost the gold. So there. It’s out in the open.”
“So you know.”
“Was it supposed to be a secret?” I huffed. “Max thinks you did it on purpose—”
“I did.”
I lapsed into surprised silence. “You—you did?”
“Yeah. I fucked Robby’s girlfriend to get back at him. He said some shit to my face.”
How was that equal? How was that fair? I wasn’t upset about Nick’s past, about his undoubtedly shocking body count.
It didn’t matter to me. It was the fact that Nick had hurt this guy so casually by breaking up his relationship for saying something.
It was…mean. Cruel. I didn’t know another word for it, and I didn’t know the version of Nick who would do that.
I curled over the railing. “He said something to you?”
“Yeah.”
“A guy made fun of you so you slept with his girlfriend and ruined his relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“A couple of days into the Winter Olympics, my mom called me, frantic, about filing the divorce papers. I took the first flight home I could,” Nick said, his voice hard.
“I missed a game and Tomasini decided to make an example out of me. When I came back, he washed me out of the program in front of everybody. And Max’s teammate?
Robby? He said some bullshit about me being a momma’s boy, so I fucked his girlfriend. Because I knew it’d hurt him.”
I stared at the skyline, stunned. It wasn’t right what Nick did, but now that I knew what had happened, and knew Nick himself, I couldn’t imagine how much of a turmoil he’d been in. How hurt he’d been.
“The—the Winter Olympics reports said you had an ankle injury,” I managed.
“Sure. That’s what Tomasini put on the record.”
“So…you didn’t…?”
“What was I supposed to do—argue against official ruling? Against Tomasini? Who would’ve believed me? No, so many people were there, people there saw it with their eyes, but who would’ve backed me up?”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“What for?” he muttered. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Why…why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I tell you about that?”
There it was—Nick’s biggest problem. His defensive walls were so high, they were impossible to climb. I was trying to connect with him and he shut me down at every turn. Pretending to be so relaxed, what a front. I hated it.
“Maybe because I’m an adult and I know you’ve changed?” I said. “Maybe because you know I’m not the kind of person to pass out judgment?”
The push and pull hurt. I couldn’t read Nick’s mind and I didn’t want to. I felt for him, I did, but he didn’t allow me to, and it was exhausting to fight against that. If Nick was refusing to be honest with me, was it my fault for putting up with this?
Was this how it’d end up between us?
What if by accepting this behavior, I was the problem?
It was like the conversation never happened. Nick texted me to ask what I wanted for dinner, and I ignored him, working long hours at the Olympic Village, typing more edits for my profile. I shrugged on my backpack, ignoring Nick’s messages asking if he could pick me up.
I arrived home and found Nick on the front stoop, Rat in his lap. He jerked up to a standing position, like I’d barked a command at him.
“Hi,” he said awkwardly.
I walked past him, heading inside. The guys in the living room waved my way and I waved back, listening to Nick’s footsteps follow me up the stairs. Some of his teammates oooed from the couch. I doubted they knew the situation, but Nick must’ve been outside for a while.
The door closed behind him, I turned around. “Are we fighting?”
“No,” he said, like the tension wasn’t thick in the air.
I waited for him to say something else and Nick stayed silent. He was waiting for something. I studied how close he was to the door—oh my god, he was waiting for me to kick him out of his own bedroom. I held in my eye roll and got ready for bed, brushing my teeth in the bathroom.
He hung by the door, hesitant. “Are you going to the gala with Max—?”
I took my tooth brush out of my mouth, pointing it at him. “If you ask me one more time, I’ll leave.”
That clamped his mouth shut. Nick retreated, pulling on his pajamas. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me like a bomb was about to go off. It was so silent, I could hear every bell dancing from Rat playing with one of her toys in the corner.
Nick was already in bed when I slid under the covers.
I turned away from him, still irritated from the conversation earlier.
Irritated that he’d made me into someone who was irritated.
I couldn’t let it go, because he wouldn’t either.
There was something Nick was holding onto.
Until he admitted to it, nothing would change.
The blankets shuffled, the frame creaking under the mattress. What the hell was he doing?
Again and again, the creaking, the shuffling.
My eyes slid to glance a little over my shoulder. In the moonlight, I could see Nick almost reaching for me and stopping himself. He wanted to touch me and he didn’t know if that was allowed.
His fingers were hesitant, the ghost of a touch on my hip.
We both knew I was awake. He waited for me to brush him away, hike the covers over and snap at him. I remained silent. I didn’t want to snap at him.
Gently, so very gently, Nick pulled me closer under the covers, guiding me to him.
It wasn’t sex. I knew what he was doing.
He nestled into me, a breath of relief escaping him. He hated the distance just as much as I did, and this was his big apology. His way of smoothing things over, apologizing without really saying ‘I’m sorry.’ Hoping the worst would blow over, cocooning me into him.
Nick wanted to confirm that everything was okay. He needed it. It was said in every way he tugged me closer, wrapping his arm over me, tucking me under his chin.
It wasn’t okay. This wasn’t an apology, or at least not one I’d ever accept.
I loved him so much, but for the first time in my life, I wasn’t okay with the silence.