All For You [New Girl]

10. Safe Word, Again

There wasn't that much to do in the hallway, what with one person three feet lower and only visible through a small opening in the elevator doors. So they talked. About Winston. About college. About moving away from home. Claire asked about Chicago, and to his own surprise, he told her. It felt kind of confessional, the way they couldn't really see each other. He could always imagine her face, though, when she was smiling or smirking or biting her lip. Eventually, they both got hungry and Nick rustled up something that could vaguely be described as lunch. Ziploc bags full of various foods, like nuts and dried fruit, but also mini marshmallows and Coke (A can wouldn't fit through the doors). A few minutes later they were taking turns trying to throw marshmallows through the elevator doors into each other's mouth. It wasn't going well.

"I got it!" Nick lied after a marshmallow caught him in the eye. He was sitting with a semicircle of fallen marshmallows and empty Ziplocs in front of him.

"No, you didn't," Claire laughed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Are you scared right now?"

"Of what?"

"Dying in an elevator."

"Not really. I'm mostly uncomfortable."

"Are you cold? I can get a blanket."

"No, actually, it's weirdly warm in here. Maybe I should move into the elevator." She tossed another marshmallow. It caught the side of the door on the way out and landed an inch from the opening.

"A swing and a miss," Nick narrated. She laughed again.

"Actually, can you get me a towel or a blanket? The floor is weirdly sticky."

"Sure."

"There's an old blanket in my apartment. I'll toss you the keys."

"Is that a good idea?"

"No." But they were already sailing through the gap and landing at his feet.

"Be right back," he promised. With a sense of pride at how easily the lock of her front door clicked open, he pressed the door forward. He gazed directly into a pair of beady eyes and shut the door again.

"Claire?" he called without turning from the door, "Did you leave your window open?"

"I didn't know I had a window." He swallowed. Anyway, he thought, What am I supposed to be doing? Oh, right. Sticky floors. He shut the door.

He returned just as his name was on Claire's lips. With expert skill, he shoved a towel through the doors. It landed on the floor with a dull plop. Claire spread it out and took a seat, rearranging her various bagged foods.

"Thanks!"

"Sure thing."

"Wait... Nick?"  She ran her hands over the towel.

"Yeah?"

"Is this..."

"Schmidt's towel? Yes."

"Oh my God. He's actually going to murder me." She buried her face in her hands.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"But what he finds out will hurt me."

"Life is all about choices, Claire. Do you want to sit on a sticky floor? Or do you want to face the wrath of Schmidt?"