Chasing Nikki(14)

“You want to set that pot down? I don’t want you to burn yourself,” I replied, ignoring her question.

She seemed flustered for a moment, staring between the coffee and me before she carried it out to where the group was meeting.

I started stapling papers again, wondering why I was letting this stupid grin sit on my face. I reminded myself I’d decided to move on and forget about Nikki, but that didn’t seem to help me any. Community service was suddenly looking a lot more fun.

She came back into the room and closed the door behind her. “Did you follow me to work?”

I snorted, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “I’m not that desperate.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, and I swore I saw her stomp her foot.

“I thought it was obvious. I’m stapling papers.” I gestured to the rising pile before me.

She made an irritated sound, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Did you just growl at me?” I raised an eyebrow as I stared at her.

“Quit evading the question, and answer me.” She was glaring at me now.

“I’m here to do court mandated community service hours. It was part of my sentence after my arrest. I didn’t know you worked here. This is just one of those awe inspiring cosmic coincidences.”

“Oh,” she said, suddenly looking down at the floor. “I forgot you said you’d been arrested before.”

“You did?” I was surprised. Maybe there was hope for her after all. I was pretty sure everyone else imagined me wearing stripes everywhere I went. “People ask me about it so much I thought perhaps I had it stamped on my forehead somewhere.”

“If you do, it’s your own fault.” She moved over next to me, close enough I could smell her soft scented perfume, and started gathering a packet of papers.

“How do you figure?”

“You don’t let anyone forget it. You’re always talking to others about it.”

“I wouldn’t say always. Besides, I’m just being honest. Don’t want people to think I’m trying to hide who I really am.”

“Is that really who you are, Chase? A convicted underage drinker?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who won’t go out with me because of my reputation.” I was beginning to feel a little angry. “Wait. I don’t even think it’s my reputation that’s stopping you. It’s your ex-boyfriend’s, isn’t it? What was his name again … Jeremy Winters?”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” she replied shortly.

“Fine. When you’re ready to reveal everything about Mr. Winters, and why I must pay for his mistakes, then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

The only noises in the room were from both of us furiously grabbing papers and slamming them with the stapler. I was fuming, but I couldn’t exactly place my finger on why. I just knew this whole situation irritated me.

I’d seen Jeremy and his entourage floating around at the school. He was a pompous jerk as far as I was concerned, but I played it cool around him because I was easily fitting into his crowd, hanging with the football friends we had in common. He’d be graduating in a few weeks, and I’d be taking his place on the team if I had anything to say about it. I’d prove then, just how much better I was than him.

I heard Nikki make a sound, and I looked up to see thin, wet trails streaming down her face.

Oh no. Not tears, I thought. I don’t know what to do with this.

I stopped what I was doing and slipped my hand around her upper arm, directing her to the soft couch in the room.

She sat, and I went over to the cooler to get her a glass of water, snagging a box of tissues off the desk on my way past.

I handed her the items, and she took them without speaking.

“Spill it,” I said, flopping onto the couch next to her.

“Wh … What?” she stuttered, looking confused.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, or you wouldn’t be crying. You can talk to me about it.”

“I can’t.”

“Listen, Nikki, there isn’t anything you can say to me that’ll make me think any less of you. I’ve been through it all—heck, I’ve done it all. I’m not the person who’s going to pass judgment on you. If you want to tell me to go to hell, then do it. I can take it. It won’t be the worst thing someone has said to me.” I paused. “I’m sorry if I offended you, by the way.”

“I’m not mad at you.” She pulled a tissue out of the box and wiped at her eyes, smearing her mascara.