Having followed Claire from the grocery store to her apartment building, Nick now stood waiting as she jiggled the doorknob and slowly pushed open the door, interested to see what the apartment looked like on the inside. On the outside, the building was old and small, but well taken care of. The halls they had walked through were in need of a paint job and maybe some new carpeting, but other than that, the place seemed decent and clean.
As Claire led him inside her apartment and flipped on the light switch, he saw right away that the inside was nothing like the outside. “Cozy” was an accurate word to describe it, for it was indeed tiny. But whereas the halls leading to the apartment had been drab and dim, the apartment itself was bright and inviting, decorated in a cute, thrifty fashion.
The tiny kitchen was painted pale green, with speckled white Formica counters over white cupboards and a small, battle-scarred kitchen table made of blonde wood in one corner, two matching chairs tucked neatly under it. A small vase of flowers and placemats on the table added color to the room, while an amateur-looking still-life watercolor of a bowl of fruit mounted on the wall over the table gave the room charm.
“I painted that in one of my art classes in high school,” Claire said, noticing Nick looking at the painting. “I know it’s not very good, but my mom insisted I put it up.” She laughed, and he joined in.
“I think it’s good,” he complimented her. “I’m not much of a painter myself. I’m more into drawing and cartooning and stuff.”
Claire cocked her head at him. “Are you really?” she asked. “I didn’t know that. That’s very cool. I should have you do a caricature of me sometime.”
“Sure,” he replied.
“Well, here, let’s put the ice cream in the freezer,” she said, taking his plastic grocery bags and stuffing them into her freezer, along with her pizza. “And I’ll show you the ‘living room’.” She made quotation marks with her fingers as she led him into the small room that served as a living room.
Its walls were painted a dark shade of purple, which normally Nick would have thought hideous, but somehow, it worked in this room. A big, slip-covered couch, accompanied by two side tables, took up most one wall, and a small entertainment center with a TV and VCR occupied the other wall. An old armchair sat under the window, a short bookcase beside it, filled to the brim with books and magazines. All around the room, seemingly wherever she could find room, Claire had placed colorful candles and lamps and other odds and ends, leaving the room crowded, but charming.
“I like it,” Nick said, looking around.
“Thanks,” said Claire. “It’s getting a little too cluttered looking, I think. I’ve got way too much junk. One of these days, I’m going to save up and move someplace bigger.”
Nick shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve never liked big houses. I bought myself this giant mansion as soon as I had the money, but I ended up selling it... it was just way too big to live in alone; I kept getting freaked out.” He laughed. “The house I live in now is smaller.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s still a glorified mansion compared to this,” said Claire.
“You should come see it sometime,” offered Nick.
“Okay,” Claire replied, apparently impressed by the proposition. “So... Aloe, right? I’ll run and get that; it’s in the bathroom. Make yourself at home. There’s the remote.” She pointed out the remote control sitting on one of the small tables beside the couch and walked down a tiny hallway leading off the living room, ducking into a room that Nick assumed was the bathroom.
Sinking down onto the couch, which turned out to be rather sunken in the middle, Nick picked up the remote and turned on the television. He was flipping absently through the channels when Claire came back and squealed, “ET!”
“Huh?” Nick looked at the TV long enough to realize that he had stopped on USA, and that ET was on, then said, “Oh, yeah. ET.”
“Aww, I loved this movie when I was a little kid,” Claire said fondly. “It was one of the first movies I saw in the theaters. My mom took my brother and I to see it when I was like two. Of course, I don’t actually remember that, but... you know...”
Nick laughed. “Yeah. My first movie was I think The Fox and the Hound.”
“Aww...” Claire smiled. “That’s a great Disney movie... makes me cry.” She laughed.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Girls... But yeah, anyway, ET... man, I haven’t seen this in years,” he said, glancing back at the movie.
“Yeah, me neither.”
So, wordlessly, they agreed to leave it on.
“Here’s the Aloe,” Claire said, handing him a small bottle of pink-tinted, clear liquid with little blue sparkles or something floating in it.
“Ugh,” he said, reading the label. Sure enough, it was from the Bath and Body Works store, and it was pink. With sparkles. Could you get any girlier? “Dude, I dunno about this... I don’t wanna look like I put body glitter on my head...” he said uncertainly.
Claire laughed. “Don’t worry, it rubs in and doesn’t show. Here, take off your hat.” He slowly pulled his hat off and set it down on the table, while Claire positioned herself next to him on the couch, rising to her knees so that she could reach his head properly. She squirted a glob of the stuff into her hand, rubbed her hands together once, and laid them lightly on the top of his head.
“Shit, that stuff’s cold!” he exclaimed, shivers running down his spine.
“Sorry,” she said, rubbing it in with gentle hands. “But it feels good, doesn’t it?”
He had to admit, it did feel good, cool and soothing on his hot skin. And it had a nice scent, too, like coconuts. It reminded him of the beach. “Mmm, that does feel good,” he said, closing his eyes as her fingers continued to massage his scalp. She paused to squirt some more into her hands and then kept going, rubbing the cool gel into his skin. After awhile, her fingers began to descend downward, gently kneading his neck and shoulders.
“Do you like that?” she asked softly.
“Oh yeah, that’s wonderful,” he breathed, eyes still closed in bliss. How long had it been since he’d had a girl massage his shoulders like that? Had Leah ever done that to him? He couldn’t remember... and didn’t really want to either, for thinking of Leah was still slightly painful. He forced the thoughts of Leah out of his mind, focusing instead on the feel of Claire’s fingertips on his skin. Damn, she was good. He decided they’d have to hang out more often from now on.
It had been awhile since he’d had a female friend. Most of the girls he was ever with wanted to be more than friends, and that caused problems because it always turned out that they were only interested in Nick Backstreet, not Nick Carter, and only wanted his money or a record deal, not his love. Or they just went and cheated on him, like Leah had. It was better just to stay friends with girls, like he was with Claire. It was a great relief to be able to hang out with someone like her and be assured that it was only a friendship, nothing more.
“You’re really good at this,” Nick commented.
Claire snorted. “Well, it’s not really an art or anything,” she laughed. “It’s just something you do...” She shrugged. “My friends and I used to take turns rubbing each other’s backs at our sleepovers when we were younger.”
Nick glanced over at her. “Really...” he said interestedly. “Shirts on or off?”
“On,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Not to spoil whatever kinky lesbian fantasies you had going there, but yeah, we didn’t strip and have some back-rubbing orgy or whatever you were thinking.”
Nick laughed. “Well, that’s still a new one to me. Must be a girl thing cause the guys and I never did anything like that.”
“You mean the Backstreet Boys guys?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t cause then people really would think you guys were gay... well, even more than they do already.” She snickered.
“Hey! We’re not gay! And anyway, you said it wasn’t a gay thing to do!” exclaimed Nick.
“Whoa, chill, I’m kidding,” she giggled and let her hands travel down his back, rubbing it in small circles, using her fingernails. His skin tingled pleasantly with her touch. “Want me to keep going?” she asked.
“Ohh yeah... that is, if you don’t mind.” He shot her his half-smile. “It does feel really good.”
She smiled and nodded. After a moment, she said casually, “You know, it probably would feel better if you did take your shirt off.”
Nick whipped his head in her direction. “Claire Ryan,” he said, feigning shock, really just teasing her, “are you trying to get me to strip for you?”
His goal was achieved when her cheeks flushed bright pink. “No!” she protested quickly. “I just thought... never mind.”
“Nah, I’m just playin’ with ya,” Nick said. Actually, he had had the same idea in mind but didn’t want her to think he was trying to put the moves on her. As if he would. “I think you’re right, actually. You wouldn’t mind, would you? If I took off my shirt?”
“No,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I minded. Go ahead; it’s no big deal to me.”
He nodded and took off his t-shirt, grimacing as he glanced down and saw the small gauze pad covering the exit site of his catheter. But his embarrassment faded quickly when he realized that there was no need to be embarrassed at all, for Claire had one too. That was the good thing about Claire – there was no reason to feel awkward or insecure around her because she was going through the same thing as he was.
“Scoot up,” she said, nudging him forward so that he was perched on the edge of the couch. Then she sank down so that she was sitting properly, turned him a little so that his back was facing more toward her, and pressed her fingers into his back again, kneading his skin, working his muscles.
“Oh god,” he whispered. “That feels great... I’m gonna hire you to be my personal masseuse from now on, ‘kay?”
“Oh yeah? How much you gonna pay me?”
“Whatever you want,” he moaned as she dug her nails into his flesh. “Or I can just get you a record deal, if you want – that’s what most other girls want when they hang out with me.”
She burst out laughing. “A record deal? Me? Haha, you apparently haven’t heard me sing before.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be able to sing,” he assured her. “Look at Mand- I mean, Willa Ford. You think she can sing?”
“Good point,” snickered Claire. “But then again, Willa Ford’s a one-hit wonder, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Okay, so maybe being able to sing is fairly important.”
“Well then I’m out cause I’m fairly tone deaf,” Claire replied. “Ask any of my friends.”
He laughed. “Well now, I gotta hear that... we should hit a karaoke bar sometime,” he said, his eyes gleaming wickedly.
“Oh yeah,” she said sarcastically, playfully hitting his shoulder.
“You hit like a girl,” he told her matter-of-factly. “Now get back to that back-rubbing, woman.”
“Oh, woman, is it?” she repeated in mock offense. “Well, in that case, I think I’ll just stop...”
“No, don’t!” Nick begged. “Keep going, baby... all night long!”
“Nick!” she hissed. “Can you say that any louder? My neighbors are gonna think we’re up to something in here...”
“So let ‘em think it,” he replied deviously, moaning loudly, “Ohhh, Claire!”
Smacking him, she tried to keep a straight face, but burst out laughing and, gasping for breath, screamed, “Ohhh, YES! YES! NICK!”
Laughing, Nick said, “See, now we gotta go to your bedroom and jump on your bed... make the people below you think we’re really going at it.”
She burst out laughing. “Uh, no, I don’t think so. You’re already shirtless – you don’t need to tempt me any more.” He must have blushed or gotten a look on his face or something, because she glanced at him and then started laughing again. “Whoa, chill, I’m kidding! I’m not gonna rape you or something, don’t worry. You’re not even my type.”
“Oh yeah?” he shot back defensively. “Well, what’s ‘your type’ then?”
“I dunno... I guess I like ‘bad boys’,” she said seductively. “And you... well, you’re kind of a pussy...”
“Hey!”
She started laughing again, holding her stomach as she did so, and when she finally stopped, she was breathless. Panting, she said, “Hey, how about some of that ice cream? I dunno about you, but I’m starving. I never did get around to putting that pizza in the oven.”
“Ooh yeah, I’m starving too. Ice cream sounds great,” he said, temporarily forgetting all about his massage and focusing on the next best thing – ice cream. They both got up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen, where Claire hauled out the four cartons of ice cream, two spoons, and two bowls.
“There you go,” she said, slapping a bowl and spoon down on the counter in front of him. “Have at it!”
***
