Nick & Bailey

15. Bailey

I pull the covers over my legs as Ian and Nick lay blankets on the floor, one on each side of my bed.

"I still think it's bullshit that you get the bed, and I get the floor every fucking year," Ian grumbles.

"Quit complaining. It's tradition," I say smugly. "Besides, the couch in the basement is free."

"That piece of shit is worse than the floor."

"Then lie down and go to sleep," I say while reaching over and turning my lamp off.

I close my eyes and listen to Ian rustle and turn over and grunt and sigh for the next twenty minutes.

"Ian, shut the fuck up," Nick says from the darkness. I was getting ready to say the same thing.

"I can't fucking sleep on the floor." I hear him stand up. "I'm going to try the basement."

"Are you serious, Ian?" I say. "You are such a fucking baby."

"You lie on the floor, then."

I feel a warmth in my abdomen at the thought of lying next to Nick. "No thanks."

Ian gathers his blankets and walks to the door. "No funny business, you two," he says as he leaves, chuckling at his own joke.

I realize that this is the first time Nick and I have been alone since we fought in Ian's room. My room suddenly feels very small.

"Hey, Nick?" I whisper into the darkness.

"Yeah?" He responds.

"I've been meaning to tell you, um..." I'm not sure of the right words to say. "Um...I'm...I'm sorry for everything that's going on with your family. It's pretty shitty for you."

I hear him sigh. "Yeah, it's okay. I don't really care."

I saw the look on his face when his mom drove away today. I know he's lying.

He continues, "And I'm sorry for those things I said in Ian's room the other day. I was just pissed."

"I'm sorry for what I said too."

It feels awkward to be having this conversation when I'm on the bed and he's on the floor. "Can I come lay with you?"

"I don't know..." but before he can finish, I crawl off the bed and sit on his blanket next to him.

"Ok then," he says.

"I knew you'd be reluctant but give in eventually."

"And how'd you know that?"

"Because I always get what I want," I say matter of factly. The question is if its Nick himself I want, I still don't know the answer.

"Well at least lie down, you make me nervous looming over me like that."

There's only one pillow, so I decide to rest my head on Nick's shoulder, hoping he will tell me if I hurt his broken rib. He responds by moving his arm to wrap around my shoulder.

"Hey, I haven't had a chance to tell you," Nick begins. "But I started reading that book you got me for Christmas. I'd never heard of it, but it's really good."

I tilt my face up to look at him and can make out his features by the moonlight shining through the window. I'm trying to decide if he's messing with me. "You've never heard of Game of Thrones? Even the show?"

"It's a show too?"

He's serious. "How the hell are you a teenage boy in America and have never heard of Game of Thrones?!?"

He shrugs underneath me. "I don't know. I guess I don't really give a shit what other people are into. I try to find my own stuff."

"You better get the books done soon. And let me know what you think. I know you'll love them, but I don't know anyone who's read the series and I want to talk about it!"

Nick laughs, and I feel it in my chest. "Well you always get what you want, so I guess I have no choice."

Lying here, right now, in this makeshift bed with Nick Robinson, I know exactly what it is that I want. It's time to let him know.

I shift my legs so one is resting on top of his, bringing our bodies closer, and I hear his breath catch. "Bailey, no. We can't do this."

"Do what?" I whisper into the skin on his neck before planting a soft kiss. I trail my fingers up his arms and feel goosebumps forming.

"You know what," he says hoarsely. His tone brings me back to the closet.

"No one will know, Nick. Just kiss me. It's just a kiss."

What is going on with me? I've never been this aggressive or desperate before. I feel like if I don't feel his lips in the next five seconds, I'll explode.

"I will know," he says. But when I look into his face, there is a need there that mirrors my own.

If I don't take this chance, I know I'll regret it, so I slowly edge closer to him and close my eyes. I don't want to look at him if he rejects me, but sooner than I thought, I feel his soft, warm lips covering my own.