CHANCES ↠ NICK MARA

TWENTY-TWO

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"I can't believe we resorted to this," I say, shaking my head at Nick. He looks absolutely adorable though. He had just gotten back from his show, so he couldn't be that dressed up for the occasion, but he made an effort by putting on a bowtie. He said it was easier. Him being there in front of me, in general, was enough for me.

"What else are we going to do?" He questions with a smile. I know he's tired, but he still managed to look so happy. I know it's for me. I know he's trying and doing all of this for me.

I smile because seeing him makes me smile, but it was more bittersweet. "I wish we could actually do this."

"What do you mean? We're on a date right now," he says in a light-hearted tone.

I glare at him, half-heartedly. "You know what I mean," I huff. "I wish I could touch you. I wish I could hug you. I wish I could kiss you." My hand comes up to the screen to touch him through it.

He brings his hand up as well. "Every day that goes by just means that we're one day closer to being together again." As much as his words warm my heart, it does not comfort me. He smacks his lips together. His eyes are soft. "Hey, don't hate me, but I'm going to bring up our past." He looks at me lovingly.

"Nick," I warn.

"The good stuff," he sighs to reassure her. "Remember when I was sick, and then you tried your darndest to make me soup. I was just in bed, and I could smell that you burnt it. I mean, it's soup!" He laughs, actually snorting.

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" I say, leaning back.

He smiles again, and he doesn't seem to stop smiling fully until I am too. "I'm getting to it, babe. Calm down."

"Well, you better get to it faster," I huff, pretending to be angry by crossing my arms over my chest.

He rolls his eyes. "You burnt it, but you kept on trying to make it. After a while, you realized you couldn't and just went out and bought me soup. It didn't matter to me though because it was the thought that counted." He was getting really into the story, so I think back to that time and it is a good memory. "You took care of me that day. You stayed in bed with me and cuddled all day and night long. You took my temperature. I realized that day that I could picture us like that ten years later. I realized that I wanted more of that day with you and every other day. I realized I wanted to wake up in the morning with you. I wanted to tell embarrassing stories with you and create some new ones. I wanted to do it all with you."

A slow, tentative smile forms on my lips. Talking about the future with him, about a future with him, makes my heart go wild all the time. "Why'd you tell me that?"

"To let you know that we are going to get those days," he says softly. It looks like he's touching at the collar of his shirt, but I know he's touching at the dog tag I gave him as an early Christmas present though because he wasn't able to come home. "We just have to be patient."

And because I feel so lifted due to him, so invincible, I say, "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, brushing my comment off like it still didn't mean everything to him after the many times we've said it to each other, but I know—just like I know how those words from him still affect me as well. "I love you too. Okay, three words."