His temperament had suddenly turned to that of a hormonal teenage girl, filled with mood swings. He was an emotional roller coaster, up and down, high and low. Sometimes he would feel optimistic, confident that he would get over this and move on with his life. Leah could go to Hell. But at other times, the desolation returned, and he didn’t see how he could live with such an empty void in his life.
Still, things seemed to be getting better overall as the days passed.
Then came Valentine’s Day.
One of the best holidays of the year for couples in love. One of the worst holidays ever for bitter, heartbroken singles. The year before, he had been the former. He recalled how he had put on a tux and taken Leah out to one of Tampa’s most elegant dining spots. He might have done the same thing this year, with her as not just his girlfriend, but his fiancée. Only this year, he was the latter. And as he sat in front of the TV, grumbling cynically as he flipped through endless channels showing romantic classics, all he wanted to do was wrap his hands around Cupid’s pudgy neck and strangle the little arrow-shooting fucker.
It was only as he sat watching reruns of “The Real World” on MTV and plowing his way through a box of ding-dongs that he realized how truly pathetic he was. And how he needed to do something about it. When it came down to it, he really didn’t want to be alone that night. He needed to get out of the house and do something, not with a lover, but just with a friend. A good friend. Someone who would probably be sitting alone at home that night too.
A familiar face immediately flashed into his mind, sending a stab of pain through his heart. Chewing absently on a ding-dong, he thought long and hard, mentally debating with himself. Then he picked up the phone and did the very thing he had been warned not to do.
He went crawling back to Claire.
***
An hour later, Nick sat in the large wrap-around booth in the very back corner of Leonardi’s. The small pizza parlor was Claire’s self-declared “favorite restaurant” and the place they had come to the very first time they had gone out in public together. In fact, they had sat at this very same booth, which was exactly why Nick had requested it.
Claire was due to meet him there anytime, but she had not arrived yet. He just hoped she would. She didn’t seem like the type to stand him up, but she hadn’t been exactly warm to him on the phone either.
“Hello?” Nick sucked in a breath at the sound of her familiar voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in four months.
“Hi... Claire? Um... it’s me... Nick.”
There was a short pause, and then came her flat reply. “Hi.”
“Um, hi.” He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so he went on making small talk, beating around the bush and avoiding the apology he knew he was going to have to make to her. “Glad you’re home. I-I wasn’t sure if you’d still be in Gainesville with your parents or not, but I decided to try your apartment first. Good thing I did.” He chuckled nervously and hoped she would do the same, but all he heard on the other end of the line was silence, broken only by her soft breathing. “So, um... h-how have you been doing?”
“Fine.” Well, at least she said something that time. Even if it was only one word...
“That’s great. I’ve been thinking about you... you know, wondering how you’re doing.”
“Uh-huh.” Did that count as two words? Or only one, because of the hyphen? Or maybe it wasn’t a word at all, but a sound? Oh well, he would call it two words. Or a two-syllable word. Either way, it was a bit of an improvement, right?
He was trying to be optimistic. Cup half full, remember. Cup half full.
“Uh... so yeah... good to hear you’re doing fine.” Okay, time to stop dawdling. “Um, look, Claire... I just wanna say... I’m sorry. You were right. Leah was just after my money.” Drawing in a shaky breath, he continued in a rush, “It was her rich, preppy boyfriend who got her pregnant, not me, but she told me the baby was mine to get me to take her in and marry her so she could inherit all my money when I die, which she apparently thinks will be not too far down the road.” Anger began to simmer in his veins as Leah’s phone conversation played in his head like a broken record, and he couldn’t resist adding spitefully, “So you were right all along. Happy now?”
She took a long time in answering, and he was a little afraid she had hung up in the middle of his tirade, but finally, she spoke. “Sorry, Nick.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said, frowning. “Go ahead and say it if you want... ‘I told you so’.”
She snickered. “Well, you know part of me would like to say that to you, but I won’t.”
“Good,” he said, smiling a little. “So anyway, I was wondering... do you have any plans for tonight? Cause, you know, I don’t, and I thought maybe we could get together and... I dunno, rekindle our friendship? Sorry, that was really gay. But, you know... I know it’s Valentine’s Day, and that’s supposed to be for lovers and shit, but it can be for friends too, right?”
“Uh, sure. Right.”
“So you wanna?”
He heard her hesitate. “Okay,” she agreed finally.
“Cool. Where you wanna meet?” Then, before she could even answer, he blurted, “Oh, I know! What about that pizza place? What was it called? The one we went to that time?”
“Leonardi’s?” Claire offered.
“Yeah! Leonardi’s. Whaddya say?”
“Sounds good. Meet you there in an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
After short goodbyes, they had hung up, and Nick had felt a little disenchanted. He supposed that deep down, he had hoped she would be the one to come crying back to him, apologizing for hurting his feelings. Or that she would at least sound happy and relieved to hear from him and let on to the fact that she had missed him. He had to admit, he had missed her. He was glad he had finally gotten up the nerve to call her and couldn’t wait for her to get to the restaurant. He only hoped she would be just as happy to see him.
His eyes trained on the door, he drew in a sharp breath every time it opened and let it out in disappointment every time it wasn’t Claire who came in. He watched an older couple come in... then a girl and a boy who looked no older than thirteen. He smiled a little, watching as the two kids sat down together in a booth and immediately avoided each other’s eyes, the boy fumbling with his laminated menu, the girl picking at her skirt. The smile vanished as he looked around the restaurant and realized he was the only person sitting alone. Alone in a dumpy pizza place on Valentine’s Day, waiting to see if the girl he had hung up on and avoided for four months would meet him or not. How sad.
The door opened again, and he was slightly relieved to see another lone figure step in. So he wasn’t the only one after all. The other was a young woman with light red hair cut in a short, spiky style. He sighed, wondering when and if Claire was coming. If she didn’t show, maybe he’d just hook up with the redhead... two lonely souls coming together on a holiday made for couples.
He glanced down absently at his menu and nervously flattened his hair with the palm of his hand. Then, looking back toward the door as if drawn by a magnet, he was surprised to see the red-haired woman slowly approaching him. He cocked his head in surprise and hoped she wasn’t a fan who had recognized him already. The last thing he felt like doing was signing autographs and taking pictures with people.
But as she came closer, and he got a good look at her, he realized the truth.
It was Claire.
His mouth dropped open as she came to a stop beside the table, watching him closely with a hint of a smile on her face. She looked different. Granted, the last time he’d actually seen her was the last time he’d visited her in the hospital, almost six months earlier. But still, the change in her was incredible. Her large blue eyes were the only thing that gave away who she was, for nearly every other aspect of her was altered from how he remembered her. She had lost weight... no longer was she puffy and heavy-looking from the drugs she had been taking, but slender, in a healthy sort of way, not gaunt like she had been the very first time he’d met her. Her skin was still fair, but had a rosy, peach-toned glow instead of a sickly, sallow hue. And her hair...
“You’re a redhead,” he said softly, staring in awe as she grinned and fingered a piece of her ginger hair, which was still quite short, like his, but styled in a sophisticated way, the very front straight and flat, parted off to one side, while the rest stood up in subdued spikes. “Is that natural? I really did always picture you as a blonde, like your mom.” He smiled sheepishly.
“You bet your ass it’s natural,” she smirked. “I got my dad’s white Irish skin and red Irish hair.”
He nodded, unable to take his eyes off her. “Sit down,” he said. She sat, keeping to one end of the curving corner booth, while he kept to the other.
“So,” she said, “have you been here long? Know what you want?” Her eyes skimmed the menu, while his roamed over her face, still intrigued by her new look. She was really quite pretty, he realized as he studied her. Not a beauty like Leah... not a knock-out... but pretty in a cute, natural sort of way.
“Um, no, not yet,” he mumbled, answering her question. He dropped his eyes to his menu but immediately raised them again when she wasn’t looking, watching as she absently shook off the navy blue, zip-up hoodie she’d been wearing. Underneath it, she had on a lavender, paisley-printed tank top, and his eyes involuntarily traveled over her body, admiring the way one of the loose straps hung off her milky white shoulder, the way the top accented the gentle swell of her breasts and showed just a hint of cleavage...
He suddenly looked up at her face to find her eyes on him, an odd look on her face. “Were you just staring at my boobs?” she asked in her blunt, unabashed way, causing him to blush fuchsia with embarrassment.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he muttered, looking back down at his menu and ignoring her question.
“You were!” she hissed gleefully. “Nick Carter, you perv! Don’t you get enough little fourteen-year-olds flashing you their boobies?”
“Could you say that any louder, Claire?” he asked casually, still refusing to look at her.
“Oh, probably. Anyway, looks like we need to hook you up with another stripper whore cause you’ve obviously been deprived if you’ve resorted to undressing me with your eyes.”
“Claire!” he hissed, his cheeks darkening to burgundy. “Jesus!”
She giggled, her eyes dancing with wickedness. “You’re right though,” she said, her voice sobering. “We do have a lot to talk about. Since you’ve ignored me for the past four months.”
“Hey, you didn’t call me either!” he countered defensively.
“No, but I also didn’t hang up on you. This one’s on you, buddy; I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped as a thought crept into his head. But I do want you.
Things had changed. She had changed... her appearance had changed... and with it, his feelings for her had changed. He suddenly didn’t want her as just a friend, but as more. He remembered her words from that night back in August.
“Nick... I... I think I’m falling in love with you.”
And he remembered how shocked he had been... where had this come from all of a sudden?
But in that instant, the realization hit him, and he understood exactly what she had been feeling those many months ago. Because suddenly, he was feeling the same way. Could it be true? After six months of friendship, four months of separation, and Claire’s transformation into a girl who was, well, pretty... could his feelings suddenly change like that?
It sounded crazy, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart was fluttering in his chest... the way his palms had grown hot and slimy with sweat... and the way his whole body seemed to tingle when he looked at her.
Oh my God, he thought, I think I’m falling in love with her.
***
