Chapter 32
“Cici…honey, wake up. You need to eat again.” Nick pulled
his arm from around her, and propped her up on the pillows instead of on his
chest. They’d been napping off and on for a few hours since her scare and his
arm was numb.
“Hmm?
Oh, yeah, okay.” She felt the movement on the bed and came to, feeling
incredibly hungry. “Yeah, I do need to eat. I’m starved.”
“Good.
Why don’t you check your blood first?”
“Yeah,
good plan. You okay?”
He
was shaking out his arm and stretching out the kinks of sleeping in such an
awkward position, groaning like an old man. “Yeah, I’m fine. What time is it?”
“Um…4.
Why?”
“Shit.
I’ve got to get to the stadium by 7.”
“What
for? Oh God, that’s right…you’re singing. I totally forgot about that. You
nervous?”
“Hell
yes, I’m nervous. I’ve not done that song alone since…Jesus. Since before the
guys. I agreed to this why?” His smile was back. She didn’t think he’d had one
on since she woke from her little stunt earlier.
“Because
you kick ass and they asked you and it’s the final home game of the season. You
should be honored.”
“Come
with me?”
“Sure.
I haven’t been to a game in ages.” Looking at the monitor, she happily chucked
it up on her nightstand. “Okay, I need another shower and this time…I’d like
company.”
“Can
we…do you mind waiting to do it at my house? I need to change.”
“Yeah,
cool. Pick up pizza on the way?”
“Of
course.”
“And
Nick?”
“Yeah…”
He knew what was coming. They needed to talk. He hated talking. But she was
right.
“We
need to talk about the other day. I don’t want…I just want…shit. Let’s shower
and eat and maybe I’ll be coherent.”
“Deal.
Shower, food, talk, sing. Let’s go.”
******~~~~~~******~~~~~~
“Jeeeeeeezhush!” Ciara pulled the
long strand of cheese from her teeth, quickly tossing the errant slice of pizza
on her plate. “Hah…hah…hah!” Chewing quickly and carefully, she fanned the air
in front of her mouth wondering how after 26 years of pizza eating one could
completely make a mess of it every time.
“Hot?”
Nick couldn’t keep his giggle back, watching her fight the battle with cheese
and too hot tomato sauce. “You okay, dingbat?”
“Damn!”
She grabbed a napkin and wiped stray sauce from her chin and cheeks, looking at
him sheepishly. “I suck.”
“You
suck quite well, my dear. Eat a breadstick while it cools.” He stuck a
breadstick in her face, yanking it away quickly as she grabbed for it. “Too
slow.”
“Brat.
Gimme that.”
“Kiss
me first.”
“Ugh,
do I have to?”
“Yes.”
He leaned over for a kiss, holding the breadstick just out of reach. Italian
kisses. Yum. “You taste like cheese.”
“Gimme
the breadstick.” She swiped it from him right after she kissed him again,
knowing he was useless to the fight once her tongue reached his. “You’re easy.”
“So
I’ve heard. So, uh…the other day. I guess I owe you an apology.”
“Probably,
but it’s mutual. I owe you an explanation. I know you’ve known me for 10
years, but, uh…maybe you really don’t know me.”
“Teach
me, then. I want to know you, Ci.”
Since
when did pizza talk get serious? And when did his eyes get so…so…translucent?
Clear? Beautiful? No, they’d always been beautiful. He seemed so grown up all
of a sudden. Even with that little drip of sauce on the corner of his mouth.
“In
time, Nick, in time.” She leaned in again and licked the escaped sauce from his
mouth, stealing yet another kiss. They’d already taken a much too long shower.
If they kept eating this way he’d show up for his National Anthem gig well
after the dawn’s early light. Not good.
“No,
now, Ci. I don’t want to fuck up again like that. I
thought I was doing a good thing.”
“And
you were…it’s me. I just…especially after a long stretch, I like my own bed. My
own time, my own sleep. I loved what you did, but I was just too tired and I
ached too much.” She stuck the remainder of her breadstick in his face,
inviting him to take a bite.
“You
couldn’t have just sucked it up for a few hours?” Bite. “Thanks.”
“No
problem.” She put the stick down and wiped her hands, tossing the napkin on her
plate. Would this analogy be fair? She’d have to try. “So you come home from a
10 month tour. Never made it home for even a weekend. What’s the first thing
you want?”
Nick
looked down realizing what she was saying, a bit anyway. “My bed, my shower, my
home.”
“Yep.
And I know 6 twelve hour shifts strung together is nothing like 10 months on
tour. I’d had my bed every day after work, but…I guess what’s more important is
that I’m USED to having that now. That’s what I want. It was all I was looking
forward to at work.”
“Okay,
I get it. So next time I wanna do something like that for you, I should have it
catered at YOUR place?”
“Now
THAT would have been nice. But, Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“I
did love it. I wish I could have been aware enough to just ‘suck it up’ and
enjoy it. I HATE that I’m so single-minded. So selfish. I’ve just been on my
own so much, that…”
“You
forget to let anyone in. It’s a trend with you, Ci.”
“Yeah,
I suppose it is. And I’m trying to change that.”
“I
know you are. I think I just got a bit carried away too soon. I’m sorry.”
“Just
know…please…” She reached up and touched his face, rubbing a thumb over his
cheek, “…that if I push you away like that, it’s just
my independence sneaking up on me. I’m not pushing YOU away…I’m just used to
being alone. I get crowded.”
He
nodded and turned to kiss the palm of her hand. “I understand crowded. Believe
me.”
******~~~~~~******~~~~~~
“Okay,
who forgot to notify someone and remind them we’re in frickin’
“No
damned idea. I’m gonna freeze my ass off out there with nothing blockin’ me.”
“Yeah,
you are. A Nick-sicle.”
Nick
pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her from behind and nuzzled
into her neck. “Does that mean you’ll lick me up later?” His voice was deep,
husky, almost a whisper so others around them wouldn’t hear.
“If
you sing pretty, I might.”
He
nipped at her earlobe and stood up straight seeing his cue to follow the
program director closer to the field. “Okay, I’m on…you gonna wait here?”
“Hell
no, I’m goin’ up to our box. I’ll see you there.”
“Chicken.”
“Sing
pretty and you’ll get your reward.”
She
quickly made her way up to their club seats, happy to be away from the wintry
air. Unseasonably cold for
He
walked proudly to the 50 yard line, arm in arm with the interpreter. Knowing
him, he hadn’t been told to do that, but grabbed her to keep them both warm.
The suede and light fur of his coat blended in with his fair skin and hair. At
one glace, he looked miniscule on the large field. At another, he was towering,
proud and strong. He glanced up to their 40 yard line box and offered a half
smile, one that would go unnoticed by anyone but Ciara.
Getting
his cue, he nodded slightly and adjusted his ear piece. He pulled away from the
mic to clear his throat, clenching his fists in nerves and sheer chills from
the air. Without the loss of another second, he began. Damn, what 10 years of
growth and 3 months of no tour could do to that guy’s voice.
She
quietly sat in her seat, smiling at the waiter as he brought the bottles of
beer and plate of limes. Look at him. Just look at him. No
accompaniment. No sound, even from the crowd now that he’d opened his mouth to
sing. A few boos had preceded him. A Backstreet Boy. Who the hell cared? But
then…then…they could do nothing but listen to him; remove their hats and listen
to him.
Reflecting
on the past 10 years, on the past 4 months as an American, and the past few
months in Nick’s life, a tear escaped its confines in Ciara’s
eye and ran down her cheek. He was beautiful. He was everything she’d ever
dreamed of…everything she’d ever wished for. And she still couldn’t believe it.
Still couldn’t let go of her hold on…on…on whatever it was she was clinging to.
It had lost its definition, but yet, she still clung.
Shaking
her head from the contemplative mode she had settled in, she propped her feet
up on the small table, tossed her head back and listened to his voice…let it
take her away like it had so many times before.
“And
the rockets red glare; the bombs bursting in air gave proof to the night that
the flag was still there.”
***
