The Things I've Never Told Lindsey (A Nash Grier Fanfic)

IV. Flapjacks

"Favorite ice cream?"

"Cookie dough. Definitely."

"Coke or Pepsi?"

"Pepsi, obviously."

"Ew. Okay then, Sierra Mist or Sprite?"

"Duh, Sierra Mist."

"Much better. Can you twerk?"  

When Patty told us to have one-on-one interviews, I'm pretty sure our questions were not what she had in mind. After Nash and I became partners, she explained to us that the first meeting was supposed to create bonds that would carry us through the rest of our "rough patch". We were supposed to get to know each other without letting the "tragedies of our pasts define us," so basically we had to ask each other questions without mentioning the reasons why we needed therapy. Apparently, that meant discussing soda instead of, well, death. I wasn't sure if it was refreshing or pointless, but I was actually kinda having fun for the first time in a while.

"If I could, I probably wouldn't tell you. But can you twerk, Nash?"

"I'd only do it for the Vine. Have any weird fetishes?"

I laughed at that one, which felt so foreign. I hadn't laughed since the night of the accident. "Not that I know of, but if I had one, it'd probably be a Nutella fetish. Or Netflix. Take your pick."

            I watched his lips curve into a gentle smile as he lightly laughed. "Agreed," he replied.

            As I gazed into his deep, blue eyes, I felt my heart flutter. I felt so comfortable around Nash, even though I just met him. Nothing felt forced. I knew Dylan for years and I never felt that way about him, even when we were close. There was just something special about Nash.

            I knew that I was starting to develop feelings for him, but, as usual, the problem was Dylan. I wasn't technically broken up with him. To break up with him, I would have to talk to him. Even a phone call seemed painful. But I didn't want to let him go with the baby on the way. I was pretty sure that I'd put the baby up for adoption anyway, but the thought of going through the pregnancy alone was terrifying. My twisted relationship with Dylan and the fact that I was pregnant didn't exactly make me good "girlfriend material." Even though I felt an instant connection with Nash, there was absolutely, positively nothing I could do about it. Except, maybe, possibly, casually become friends with him. Casually.

"Pancakes or waffles?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied with a smirk. "What? I can't pick just one."

"True, but I usually go with pancakes because you can call them flapjacks, and that makes me really happy."

Nash laughed. "Very true." He paused. "Um, what are you doing after this?"

ohmYGOD.

"Nothing that I know of," I said with a smile, desperately trying to keep my cool. If I even had any cool, that is.

"Would you want to get coffee with me or something?" he said, blushing ever-so-slightly.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and looked him in the eyes.

"Yeah, that sounds great." I smiled. Because it did.

It did sound pretty great.

________________________________________________________________________

Well, hello there. 

I wish more people called pancakes "flapjacks". It sounds so fantastically stupid in the very best way. 

Anyway, have a good night or a lovely morning or an astounding afternoon. 

xxCharlotte