I’m on a weird sleep schedule anyway, so when my brain finally shuts off and I fall asleep at the crisp hour of 7 PM, I’m not really surprised to wake up and find that it’s dark out.
My stomach growls, so I unwind, wipe away the crusted tears, and head downstairs. Poking my head into the hall, I see Wesley’s office door is closed. Good. I’m not sure I can face him quite yet.
I creep into the kitchen, almost afraid to make noise. I think… it’s empty. For the first time since I got here.
Fuck yeah. This means I get to search for Wesley’s junk food stash! Man, I could really go for some empty calories right now.
I’m about halfway through raiding the drawers in the pantry when I hear the French doors open. I freeze, hoping that whoever it is will leave me in peace, but I hear the fridge open and then the screech of chair legs against tile and I sigh, knowing someone is settling in for a midnight snack.
I suck another sigh back in when I see it’s Nicole.
She sees me too, and my heart flops over at the odd expression on her face. I remember the last thing she heard me say, and the shuttered look of hurt. She probably doesn’t want to see or speak to me right now.
“Um, I was just leaving—”
“Wait,” she says softly. “Please. Don’t go.”
Whoa.Please?Bitch, I’m rooted in this spot. They’d need a forklift to move me.
“I was hoping to talk to you, just the two of us.”
Her tone doesn’t give me pause for once—it’s entreating and gentle. Hope swells. I push away the self-doubt that tries to cut it down and head over to the island to take the seat next to her. “Because youdowant to know how to do that move where you land on Dimitri’s face?”
She smiles, and it’s much more genuine and much less guarded than I can ever remember. “No. Well… maybe eventually. Not for a while, though. I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
Whoa. My flabbers are gasted.
I was all ready to swallow my pride. I thought at most, she would tell me she was open to hearingmyapology—and even that would have been cool. I thought I was going to have to explain myself and apologize for what I said… Never in a million years did I think those words would be coming from her!
“I’m sorry too, Nicole. I didn’t mean what I said—”
“I know,” she nods, then grimaces. “I heard enough of your fight to know what it was really about. It’s my fault you’ve been walking on eggshells, and probably why you were sensitive about it in the first place. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I’ve been cold to you, and you really didn’t deserve it.”
“It’s okay,” I say easily. “You’re protective of this little family you guys have here, and I was an outsider.”
She nods, looking down at her hands. “That, and I was… jealous, I think.”
“Jealous?” I repeat, stunned out of my smart comments.
She looks uncomfortable. “Yeah. It’s horrible of me—again, so sorry—but I knew you’d been attacked and you… you savedyourself. It made me feel weak and so pathetic, especially because I’ve been having these panic attacks. And you’re… not weak or pathetic. At all. You’re just as smart as Wesley—”
“Smarter, actually,” I interject with a wink, making her smile.
“—and you can help them. You… picked at a scab you didn’t know was there. Frankly, I’m just realizing it’s there.” She licks her lips, grappling with her final thought. “The way Dimitri and I met wastumultuous. Passionate, but difficult. We had a hard time adjusting to each other, and part of it was because I never felt like I belonged in this world. Still don’t, really.”
“Ah,” I say as the final puzzle piece clicks into place. No wonder she was so sensitive when I called out her profession and argued for my seat at the boy’s table. “And I waltzed in—the crazy hacker who can put a guy twice my size on his ass.”
“Yeah,” she agrees with a little self-deprecating smile. “And it didn’t help that you’re so cute and charismatic, frankly. But that’s my thing. That’s not about you and I really shouldn’t have made it your problem. I’m sorry about that, too.”
I sit back, eyeing her. Her body language is stiff, and her head is hung, like she’s truly contrite. I’m betting she’s harder on herself than anyone else would ever be. She seems like the type.
“Let me guess…” I say slowly, and Nicole presses her lips together in a grimace, expecting some kind of scathing indictment of her character that she thinks she deserves. I grin, since she’s confirming my theory. “September 12th.”
Her head comes up, and she frowns. “What?”
“Your birthday.”
There’s a second of silent confusion, then her lips tip up. “It’s the 16th, actually.”
