Page 36 of Told You So
“I’m a design major, remember? It’s sort of what I do—notice things. Don’t take it personally.”
Nick walks into the kitchen without saying another word about it. “You want a Pop-Tart or something?” He reaches into the cupboard and pulls out a box of blueberry.
“Pop-Tarts are Jesse’s favorite,” I tell him and unwind myself from the couch. With a little extra pep in my step, I walk into the kitchen.
“What can I say, the kid’s got good taste.” His eyebrows waggle at me, and just like that, his Nick-ness is back. “So, is that a yes?”
“Sure.” I unwrap a pack for myself and hand it to him to stick in the toaster. Our hands have touched before, but this time, it’s different. It’s the first time we’ve touched since New Year’s in his car, and here, in the privacy and quiet of his home, it feels more intimate than it should. I take a step back and smile, nodding to the PlayStation on the floor by the big screen. “Video games?”
A grin envelops his face. “Hell yes, video games. I’d love to kick your ass in Mario Kart.”
“Actually...I’m more of a Duck Hunt kind of girl.”
His eyes widen. “That’s literally the worst game ever. There’s a reason it isn’t around anymore.”
I nearly snort a laugh. “What can I say, I bought an old Nintendo at a garage sale when I was little. It only had one game but it kept me busy before Jesse came along. Let’s just say it holds sentimental value. I’m down for some Mario Kart though.”
His eyebrows lift. “Yeah? I thought we’re supposed to be working?”
Nodding, I run my fingers through my hair. “You’re right. I’m easily distracted when I’m anxious.”
He smirks at me and lifts an eyebrow.
With an internal groan, I retreat back to the couch. “Thiswholeproject makes me anxious. This is the worst timing possible.”
Nick pulls out two Pop-Tarts from the toaster and moves around his kitchen with ease. He tears off a paper towel and opens and closes a drawer, and I wonder if this is what it would be like to spend every Saturday morning with him. If we might have a cup of coffee, eat breakfast, and banter back and forth about childhood hobbies.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You’re making a face.”
Deer in headlights, I force a smile. “Yeah. Great. Thanks.” Even as I remind myself how complicated we are, I find it incredibly easy to be around him, too.
“You said ‘worst timing’...What did you mean?” His eyes are on me, expectant and probing.
“Well,” I start, not certain how much to tell him, let alone how much he cares to hear. “I’m taking the GRE in a couple weeks, and I need to focus on that exam so I’ll be able to get a good score.” I dig for a pen in my book bag, suddenly desperate to keep myself busy.
“A GRE?”
I blow a loose strand of hair from my face. “It’s like a rite-of-passage for psychology students thinking about a master’s degree. The better your test score, the better your chances are of getting into a good school. Kind of like the SATs, but more important.”
“But...” Still standing, he leans against the counter and crosses his ankles, a perplexed look on his face that’s almost comical. “I thought you were an interior design major, thus our Integrative Design class.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a double major,” I say quickly, and I reach for my coffee, hoping he’ll avert his gaze.
“Wait, why the hell would you want to do that to yourself?” he asks, and the laugh that bubbles out of me sounds almost lunatic.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I mean, I do, but, no, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m crazy.”
“Kinda cute-crazy,” he says lightly, and my eyes meet his.
Both of us sober.
“Oh,” Nick says quickly and hands me my two Pop-Tarts. “Ugh, sorry. They’re getting cold.” That’s the least of my worries right now. “No worries, thanks.” Tapping my pen on my notebook, I take a bite of my breakfast. “We have a lot to discuss, we should probably get started.”
With a nod, Nick plops down on the couch across from me. “Sure.”
“So,” I say, pointing to the doodles on my notebook. To the average person, they might look like scribbled gibberish, but to me, they’re a necessity. “I came up with a few project ideas to run by you, but I don’t know how you’ll feel about them. First, I was thinking we should pick a local spot, maybe a business we think needs a remodel so we can actually go inside, check it out, make some informative decisions—”
“Actually,” Nick says, and takes a long pull of his coffee. “I’ve already decided on our subject matter—well, I might have.”
