When I Met You

Chapter 15 - Nick's POV

It was rather early on a Thursday morning when I received a phone call from Chelsea. At first I was shocked, because we haven't talked much recently. Even though it felt like she was avoiding me, I was just happy she was okay. I mean I would love to chat and be friends and all, but I'm trying to be happy that her relationship has gotten better. It was a relief that she wasn't calling me, I suppose.

She doesn't call me. We aren't friends. We just are strangers that share a few insignificant moments together. I couldn't help, but crave more. Was I wrong for being excited that she called, even though it probably meant her boyfriend was beating her to a pulp?

Probably.

I know I told her that she could stay if she needed, but I never imagined it would come. With that being said, I needed to clean my house. The guest room needed clean linen, dishes were yet to be cleaned, bathroom was a mess, and vacuuming wasn't arguable. I had less than 30 minutes to accomplish all these tasks.

I only managed to change the linens and vacuum before I heard a knock on the front door. Shit.

I rushed over to the door, swinging it open. "Hi." She sheepishly spoke. The bags on her face were quite unsettling. Has she been sleeping? The red puffiness in her eyes was clearly fresh. It looked like she had been crying for quite some time. Still the bags and swollenness didn't take away the beautiful blue in her eyes. Her hair was in a messy bun with several cute curly flyaways surrounding her face. She wore a dark hoodie slightly larger than her tiny body and both her sweatpants and hoodie were covered in tear stains. It was remarkable that even at her worst, she was still breathtakingly gorgeous. Blake is a lucky man.

I motioned for her to enter and I took her bag out of her hands. I decided to let her settle down on the couch as I carried her things into the guest room. I knew it was a good idea to let her relax, because when I returned, she was passed out. Looking so innocent in a fetal position, hands pressed together as a makeshift pillow. Oh, Chelsea. What am I to do?

* * *

I was never a great cook, but I knew that she probably had not been eating right. She looked frail as though she would snap at any given moment. I didn't want to wake her from her slumber, so I tried to make her as comfortable as I could on the couch. I was a little worried, because it was now dinner time and surely the smell of food had to be wafting through the air. However, she only stirred once and that was because I was digging around for the cooking pot. I felt really bad about having to do this, but she had slept nearly all day. I couldn't let her miss another meal even though whatever I cooked, probably wasn't the lifestyle she was used to.

I walked over to the tiny figure curled up under the blanket I had placed over her shivering body several hours ago. Gently placing my hand on her shoulder, I whispered her beautiful name. I didn't want to shake her or repeatedly call out to her, so I decided to ever so slightly rub her back until she came to.

After about 5 minutes or so of me coaxing Chelsea out of her sleep, she began to take in her surroundings. First, looking up at me with a delicate smile. Now would probably be a good time to say something. Anything. Stop staring, Nick. Jesus Christ!

Still slightly dazed from her slumber, Chelsea looked puzzled. Opening her mouth to say something, but quickly shoving the thought aside. Say something, Nick.

"Good evening," I let out a low chuckle. I placed my hand on the back of my head stretching in thought, more like awkwardness. "I-uh made you some dinner, if you'd like something to eat." She still looked puzzled. "I mean, of course you don't have to eat, if you aren't feeling up to it. I just figured... well I mean-uh you haven't eaten today and I was hoping you would indulge, because I'd like you to eat. But I'm sure it's not like what you're... I can always just order something, if you'd prefer. Or I mean-uh... If you'd rather-" The faintest smile on her lips interrupted me. Thank god, because I probably would have kept rambling for hours.

"Thank you, Nick." The smell of vanilla filled my nostrils as she shifted to pull me into a deep embrace. I could stay in the position forever, feeling her warmth pressed against me was the most contagious thing in the world. I wanted more. Fuck.

"Mhmm," was all I could manage. I was just lost in her until she abruptly pulled away.

"So, what's for dinner?" Shit, I kind of forgot that was why I came over here.

"Dinner? Well, I should probably warn you now, before I ruin your taste buds. I'm not the most talented chef." I grinned.

"That bad, huh?" She played along with my joke. Even though I seriously don't know how to cook well.

"Nah." I earned the most subtle chuckle from her as I waved my hand in the air, dismissing her comment. Shrugging, I continued, "I mean I promise you won't die."

She sat there pondering a response, "Hmm." However, her stomach started to rumble which caused me to chuckle. "Fine. I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Nope." We walked over to the oval oak table that sat in the middle of my kitchen. It wasn't anything too fancy, but it was the first thing I bought for my apartment. Yes, it was on the smaller side, but most nights it was just me. It will be a nice change in my life to have Chelsea around. I couldn't help but smile at the thought. Pulling out the chair nearest to mine, I gestured for Chelsea to sit. "For you, madame."

"Oh, thank you." She seemed taken back as though this was unusual behavior for a man. I hope she didn't take my gesture the wrong way. I was simply trying to be polite and respectful of my guest.

"Is everything alright?" The concern was evident on my face.

She seemed puzzled by my question, responding with her usual, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Stumbling over a few of her words she replied, "I just-uh... I mean no one has offered to help me into my chair before." Suddenly, she just started laughing, placing her hands over her face, embarrassed. After shaking her head to and fro a few times, she let out an exasperated sigh. Pulling her hands from her face, Chelsea blinked away the watery surface in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I meant thank you." She forced a smile on her face.

"Yeah. Of course, Chelsea." I wasn't sure what else would be appropriate to say, so instead I cleared my throat. "Shall we eat?"

Polishing off her first plate of spaghetti within seconds, she was halfway through the second. Was it weird that I enjoyed watching her eat? Every bite, noodles hung out her lips, before she quickly slurped them into her mouth. Tomato sauce covered her chin as she savored the flavor on her tongue. Chewing slowly enough to indulge, but swiftly enough to devour. I assume she was caught up in the moment, because a few moans escaped her lips. I wonder when the last time she ate was. Or maybe I was just a decent chef afterall?