Nicholas Grey Must Not Die | ✓

10 | Secret

"Seems like there's always someone who disapproves. They'll judge it like they know about me and you. And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do. The jury's out and my choice is you"

~ Ours (Speak Now)

"Thanks," I smiled up at Nick, who'd handed me a bowl of ice cream. With his own bowl in his hand, he came and sat next to me. We sat on the floor, our backs resting against the leg of the couch. 

"You like chocolate and vanilla, right? More chocolate than vanilla and definitely no strawberry," he said, his strong gaze catching my eyes. 

I gulped, looking down at my bowl to confirm; he'd prepared it the way I like. "You remember my ice cream preferences?"

He let out a long breath, a small smile following shortly afterward. "I was basically in love with you, remember?"

I shook my head. "You know, I wish I knew how you felt back then."

"What would it have changed?" He asked, taking a bite of his strawberry ice cream.

I couldn't help the disgusted face I made at the sight, causing a loud chuckle to escape him. "I can never understand how you can eat that...and like it."

"Because it's good," he laughed, then used his spoon to point at me, "and you're deflecting."

I squinted my eyes at him, not wanting to face the music. "I am not."

He grinned at me, his voice full of wit. "Then answer my question."

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it, though?"

I childishly huffed, giving in. "Fine. Yes, okay? Yes, it would've made a huge difference to know I wasn't crazy back then."

The shock in his eyes was hard to miss. He lowered the spoon back to his bowl and stared at me in inquiry for a while. "What does that mean? To know you weren't crazy about what?"

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach and I felt like I was about to barf it up along with the contents of my stomach. So I stayed quiet, contemplating on how to answer his question, debating on whether I should just run out of there instead of having to face my feelings.

"Iris?"

I let out a soft breath, closing my eyes. I couldn't ignore him for any longer; he deserved to know. "I had feelings for you, too, Nick. Maybe I wasn't in love with you, but I was somewhere along the same lines. And I was scared you didn't feel the same way...I was way too young to understand that love is all about being brave enough to take the leap, not the chance of heartbreak. I was afraid of rejection. When you left, it solidified what I'd thought: you didn't feel the same. So I just buried everything." I was speaking way too fast, my thoughts were a mess and I had no idea how to slow down to take a breath. "I wish you had said something because I was too scared. We wasted so much time; we wasted three years."

He placed his bowl on the floor and scooted close to me. The shock in his eyes had strengthened. When he reached for my hands, I couldn't help but hold on tightly. I needed something to ground me because I felt like I was floating, watching the scenario take place from above. 

After a while, he squeezed my hand, prompting me to look up at him from my knees. His eyes had softened, a beautiful gleam taking the place of the shock from before. My heart slowed down at the sight and my mind relaxed. Then he let go of my hands, drawing a soft protest from lips, before cupping my face. He gave me a sweet smile before speaking. "You know, I wish you'd given me a hint or something, too. I would've dived in headfirst if I felt like you would reciprocate everything. But then again, maybe I wouldn't have done anything anyway, because of what happened with my dad." He let out a long breath after that, and it was as if the air he exhaled took his happiness with it because a look of despair immediately took hold of his features. Pure regret pooled in his eyes and he shied away from me. "Which is still relevant, damn it," he said in a low voice. He sounded angry, but it seemed to be directed at himself as he roughly ran his fingers through his hair over and over.

Panic engulfed my lungs, a cough escaping me in shock. "No, it is not," I tried to argue, but my voice was too weak to convince anyone. 

He shook his head at me. "No, you don't understand, I could get sick, Iris, really really sick. I don't want you to become my nurse."

I swallowed hard. He was right before. I know he has strong feelings for me now. I need to dive headfirst in and hope to God he follows. So I pushed my fears, my weaknesses, the sound of my heart trying to escape my body back to the very back of my mind. I poured my feelings into my voice as I spoke. "I don't want to be your nurse either, Nick, I want to be your girlfriend. And that is exactly what I will be whether you get sick or not. There are people who get the flu and die out of nowhere. People who suddenly get terminal illnesses, with no risk factors and no family history. You are so lucky to know the risks, the things you can avoid to live a longer, healthier life. If you get ill, I want to be there for you, not as your nurse, but as your girlfriend. I want to take care of you. You can't push me away because of this, Nick, you can't. Please don't."

This was the second time in a row that I was asking him, pleading with him, not to push me away. My parents taught me to fight with everything I have for the people that meant the most to me and I was trying to do so. But I seemed to be fighting alone, which just confused me even more. Should I just pull away, too, and give up? 

It was almost as if I'd said the words out loud, because, in the following seconds, Nick reached out to grab both my hands. I didn't realize I was crying until my disheartened eyes met his, which were carrying renewed faith. "You're right, Iris. God, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry for doing this over and over again. I should've known back then what kind of an incredible girl you were and I should've definitely known better now. I'm not pushing you away, I promise. I hate that I put that look in your eyes; I'm so sorry."

I blinked three times as his words slowly dawned on me. It was as if a hot air balloon had been strapped onto me because suddenly, I was flying with the clouds. A large smile split my lips and I reached to wrap my arms around his neck, bringing him closer. "You need to stop apologizing and we need to stop arguing about us. We should decide right now where we want this to go."

Without skipping a beat, he said, "I want you to be mine."

I don't know how it was possible, but my smile widened further. "I couldn't agree more."

A look of relief washed over his face. "Finally," he breathed out, immediately leaning in for a kiss.

A nagging thought blasted to the front of my mind, reminding me of my plan with the girls. I needed to make sure I could still pull that off. So, I leaned my head back, forcing our eyes to meet. I gave him a reassuring look when he looked at me questioningly. "Do you think we can keep us a secret?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Why would we do that?"

"I just think it would be best," I said, shooing away my nerves, "for now. People might question us, especially you and your motives of being with me, if they find out."

"I don't care about that."

I gave him a warning look. "Well, I do. So, can we please make sure your case doesn't get any worse. You know how tricky this is."

He looked like he wanted to push more, to argue against my points, but he gave in after a few silent seconds. "Alright, if you think it's best. I don't want my BS to hurt you anyway."

Oh, bless his gentle heart, he's thinking of me rather than himself.

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat before continuing. "Thanks, Nick."

"Well, when you're right, you're right," he shrugged simply.

I grinned. "Hmm, we forgot the ice cream. I think it melted."

He gave me a coy smile. "I'm hungry for something else."

"Like what?"

"Your lips."

I snickered. "You're so corny."

"Only for you, Iris. Only for you."

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