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Chapter Thirty-Six
Point of View: Narrator

The next day, Zoe showed up at Nick's house, but he didn't come right out like he had the past two times she'd driven with him. She sighed as she made her way up the walkway and rang his door bell, pressing it down hard and waiting. She half expected the weird little kid in the snorkel to answer it again, but instead a familiar face opened the door.

It was Krystal Armaletto.

"Who the hell are you?" Krystal asked without even a 'hi' or anything. She looked Zoe over and sighed. "Sorry. Are you a fan? Where did you get Nick's address?" She looked around out on the lawn, as if expecting an army of them.

"I'm Nick's rehabilitation driving instructor," Zoe replied, gritting her teeth, "I am not a fan, and I got Nick's address from Nick, when he filled out the form." Who the hell does this slut think she is anyway? Zoe wondered, looking her up head to toe. The girl had on an impossibly tiny dress that looked like lingerie and heels that lifted her ankles off the ground by a good four inches.

Krystal blinked, "Oh. Well hold on I'll see if he's interested."



Nick had fallen asleep the night before watching TV. The volume was up way too loud and his face was planted across the keyboard of his lap top. He blinked his eyes slowly open and glanced at the clock in the corner of his computer screen. 8:04 AM.

"SHIT!!" he leaped out of bed and looked out the window in his boxers and saw the Prius in the driveway. "SHIT!!!" he grabbed a pair of jeans from the desk where he'd flung them the day before, yanking them on with one hand and bouncing on one foot, grabbing his deodorant off the desk. "Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit," he said, biting the cap off the deodorant and spitting it across the room. He bent his arm up into itself and started scraping the gel on his arm pit as he bounced on the other foot, getting his pants over his ass.

It was in this strange position that his bedroom door opened. "Nii-iiick," came a familiar voice. He froze as Krystal came around the corner of the door, her eyes landing on him. He stood stock still, frozen in shock. First of all - uhhhh, his position was really awkward, obviously. Second of all, when the hell did Krystal get there?

"There you are," she giggled and reached over, "Your hair's a mess, babe." She ruffled it, trying to get it to smooth down from the crazy way it was standing up from sleeping. "You're so silly." She leaned forward, about to kiss him, when Nick's shock suddenly wore off and he stumbled backwards, dropping the deodorant stick onto the desk, even though he'd only gotten one arm pit swiped.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Nick demanded, confused. He looked at the bedroom - the bed, the floor, the balcony, the desk, everywhere - making sure there were no empty bottles or discarded syringes. No evidence of him having gone partying and blacking out. No evident of the sex being had. "Where the hell did you come from?" Nick asked, re-emphasizing the words once he'd assured himself he hadn't done it.

"I had my keys," Krystal answered with a shrug.

Downstairs, he heard the front door open the close, and Zoe called out, "Nick? Are you okay? Are we driving today?"

Nick looked from Krystal to the door, torn. "Zoe?!" he yelled, "I'm coming! Sorry!! One second!!" Quickly, he pulled his pants closed and zipped the fly, tucking in his shirt - the same he'd worn yesterday. He looked at Krystal, "Look, I gotta go do this, okay? But when I get home in an hour --"

Krystal smiled sexily, she leaned toward him with her chest out and blinked up at him, "Yes?"

Nick forced himself to keep from looking down at the fair about of cleavage she was showing him by leaning like that. He swallowed his excess saliva, his sleepy mind running a million miles an hour, and stepped back quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. "We'll talk," he answered. He turned and ran down the stairs two at a time in his stocking feet.

Zoe looked up as he came in, loud and messy. She raised her eyebrow. He ducked into a closet by the front door and pulled out a pair of sneakers, which he kicked his feet into. Zoe glanced back up the stairs just as Krystal came around the corner. "Nick you're seriously leaving right now, to go with --" she looked at Zoe, then said in disdain, "her?"

Zoe snorted, "Oh honey, you cannot seriously be jealous of me."

Nick turned around from the closet, "Krystal, we are not together, okay?" he said levelly. He'd meant him and Krystal.

"Oh I should hope not, considering you're my boyfriend," Krystal answered, her voice dropping, "You're lucky I've chosen to forgive you as it is," she said.

Nick took a deep breath. "Whatever. Look we'll talk later. C'mon, Zoe, let's go." He opened his front door and stormed out down the stoop onto the walkway and disappeared.

Zoe blinked, caught in the middle, then started to follow him. "Keep your hands off him you old bitch," Krystal snapped suddenly.

Now, Zoe, if you have not yet noticed, wasn't the best with controlling her temper. Nor was she anything shy of a master of sarcasm. Combine the two with an annoying pop star giving her attitude? She turned around, "I'm just teaching him how to drive," she said in a low voice, "But if he wants to let me play with his stick shift, who are you to say anything?"

Krystal's jaw dropped and Zoe turned, not sure if she should've done that or not, but more proud of herself for coming up with an answer so quickly than she was mortified she'd done it. She slammed the door behind her as she made her way down the walkway. Nick was pacing beside the car, his hands balled into fists.

"Your girlfriend's a charm," Zoe said as she went around the front end of the Prius.

"She is not my girlfriend," Nick snapped. He got into the car and buckled his seatbelt. Zoe wondered if he noticed she'd pushed the seat back for him or not.