hey! I haven't given up on my schmess friendship story, but this little guy popped up in my mind and i couldn't get rid of it. this was intended to be a oneshot, but it got a little long so I split it in two. we're only a month into the hiatus and I'm already dying without ness, so if you are too I hope you enjoy this 😊😘
It's the day after Schmidt and Cece got married. Or rather, it's later that morning, since they actually said their vows at like three AM, and Jess is alone in the loft. The hardwood floor is still covered in rose petals, and the delicate arch where her best friend stood and became Mrs. Schmidt is in the dining room behind her. Everyone else is gone; Winston had mysteriously left sometime in the night, the newlyweds departed for their honeymoon early in the morning, most likely to some exotic beach location (Schmidt hadn't told anyone where he was whisking Cece away to, but Jess had caught him looking up "where to buy a speedo" on his computer one afternoon, so she just assumed), and Nick and Reagan left for the airport just a few hours ago. Jess leans comfortably on the cushions behind her and sighs, pressing "play" on the DVD remote and settling in for a long day of crying alone. She hadn't been strong enough to drag the couch back out of Nick's room by herself, but she managed to push the coffee table across the living room floor and grabbed all the pillows she could find to lean against it. She thanked her lucky stars that both she and Schmidt were obsessed with decorative pillows, so that she was able to make quite a cozy nest for herself.
Rubbing her eyes as Dirty Dancing begins to play on the TV in front of her, Jess lets her mind wander off to how she has gotten here. Or rather, back here. Back here, in love with her roommate across the hall and utterly unable to do anything about it. She can't stop thinking about how happy Nick had been when Reagan walked through that front door twenty feet away from where she's sitting now. Internally groaning, she shuffles her body and sinks down a little more into the cushions beneath her; her hipbone hits the floor and she almost thinks about going into Nick's room to grab a few more pillows, but she isn't sure if she can deal with the scent of him right now, so she resigns herself to feeling just a little uncomfortable. Dirty Dancing isn't helping; this is her breakup movie after all, not her "I'm still in love with my ex-boyfriend" movie. She sighs loudly and pauses the DVD, for the first time since she woke up that morning thankful that no one else is home to see how pathetic she is. She rises from her pillow fort on the floor and trudges into the kitchen to grab a bottle of pink wine, but when she opens the fridge, her mind dances with the thought of taking one of Nick's Heislers instead. He's on his way to New Orleans with his perfect girlfriend and she's supposed to be forgetting about him, not drinking his beers. Rolling her eyes at herself, stop over-thinking, Jess wraps her hand around a bottle and shuts the fridge, turning toward the living room. Before she can walk around the kitchen island, she hears the front door open and a wide smile is brought to her lips with the thought that Winston is finally home and she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts anymore.
"Hey, I'm so glad you're- Nick!" The upbeat attitude Jess had just a moment ago is violently ripped from her. With sweat running down his brow, his eyes find hers, the muscles in his arm bulging with the weight of his duffel bag momentarily distracting her. "What are you doing here?" And, more importantly, where the hell is Winston? She needs that sexual tension-sucking cat daddy! Jess needs something to do besides stare at Nick, so she walks the long way around back to her cave in the pillows on the floor.
"I live here, weirdo." She just rolls her eyes, looking at him pointedly, and he makes a face like he's about to be sick. "Blech sorry, that was terrible. There weren't any open seats on Reagan's flight, so I can't fly out until Tuesday. Cool with you if I just leave my bags right here so I don't have to repack 'em?" he asks, already dropping his duffel by the front door.
"No problem, man," she replied awkwardly, clearing her throat. "So, Tuesday. That's… two days away."
"Yeah, so? What, you're not happy to spend a little more time with me?" He has a light tone in his voice as he walks over to join her, sitting cross-legged on the floor, but when she doesn't laugh back with him, the turtle-face makes an appearance. "What's up, Jess?
Shaking her head, she tries to appear light and casual. "It's- It's nothing. When do you leave on Tuesday?"
"First thing in the morning."
"Which for you is like, what, noon?"
"Very funny," he smirks, and leans his back against the coffee table, his arm brushing lightly with hers. The electricity that shoots through her from the contact immediately makes her heart flutter and her stomach want to throw up. She's going to have to get ahold of herself; but then again, she wasn't expecting to see him for three months. By then she assumed she'd have a handle on things; him walking through that door had thrown her completely out of whack. "Alright kid, what're we watching?" He picks up the remote and presses play, and she winces as realization passes over his features. He turns toward her suddenly, his eyes narrowed and his lips parted with concern. "Jess, what's going on? What's wrong?" God, he knows her so well.
"Nothing. I just… like this movie, okay?" She is a terrible liar. Worse than ol' sweatback over here by a mile. She rolls her eyes to herself and feels a flush of embarrassment rise into her cheeks. "What? I always have to be on the verge of depression to watch Patrick Swayze dancing?"
"I mean, yeah!" he shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and okay, to be fair, it kind of is. She painfully avoids his gaze, clutching her fingers tighter around the beer bottle warming in her hand. "Oh, I'm an idiot. This is about Sam, right? You guys just broke up."
Jess closes her eyes and lets her head fall back against the coffee table behind them. "Yep, that's it."
"Well don't worry girl, I got ya covered," he says with a nod as his lips curve into a smile, and he stands up and pads off to the kitchen.
"Thanks," she murmurs, unsure if he could hear her. She absentmindedly reaches for her phone, just to have something to do other than watching Johnny and Baby falling in love on the TV screen, and sees that she has two new texts from Cece. The Mr. and Mrs. must have arrived to their super-secret destination by now, and Jess has been waiting all afternoon to hear about it. What she reads in Cece's message, however, is unexpected.
"WINSTON IS HERE. on our HONEYMOON. i think schmidt is gonna kill him," it said, and then:
"i might help him do it," followed by a double syringe.
Before she could respond to Cece her phone dinged again with another new text, this time from Winston. He sent her a selfie, and Jess's eyes are immediately drawn to Schmidt and Cece glowering in the background. "HONEYMOON PRAAAAANKKKKK!" the message said, with several laughing cat emojis. "I'll be back in a couple days. Love ya, feed Furgy for me!"
"What are you laughing at?" Nick asks, suddenly reappearing with a carton of Ben Jerry's and two spoons in one hand, and the remaining 6-pack of Heislers in the other.
"Oh nothing," she bites back a smile as he sits down beside her, typing out a reply to her friends before setting her phone on the coffee table and turning to face him. "Winston tagged along on Schmidt and Cece's honeymoon."
Nick almost spit out the sip of beer he had just taken. "He what?"
"He called it a 'honeymoon prank'," she replied, showing him the picture Winston sent.
"Yeesh," Nick laughs. "Well, I guess we'll have to put out an ad for a new roommate, because Schmidt is definitely gonna kill him. You'll take care of that while I'm gone, yeah?"
"I uh, yeah." She nervously clears her throat again, and silently commands her voice to sound stronger. "Don't trust Schmidt to do that, huh?"
"Let's just say that his track record for Craigslist ads is not the best," he replies with a smirk. "Although his last ad brought us you, so maybe I can forgive him."
Jess allows herself to smile back at him before dropping her gaze to her fingers twisting in her lap. "So, three months in New Orleans, huh? Are you… nervous?"
A twinkle appears in his eye at that, and he grins before joking with her. "Should I be?"
"I don't know," she replied honestly, and his smile falters. "I just mean, it's kind of a big step, moving in together."
"Yeah, I guess. But, we already lived together so it shouldn't be that big of a deal." Nick's brows knit together and she can tell he's starting to overthink, which is maybe... good? If he hasn't really thought about it until now, maybe he'll realize he's making a mistake. Jess isn't being completely selfish in hoping this either, she really is worried about him. Sure, he's known Reagan for a while now but they've only been dating for thirty minutes, and he's going to move across the country for her? Jess is about to tell him this, when he shakes his head and interrupts her thoughts. "Besides, if things don't work out I can always come back home." Home, he says.
A wave of emotion rushes through her and she drops her eyes, suddenly timid; she whispers, "Will you?" and she's afraid to hear the answer.
"Yeah…" he trails off and they're silent for awhile; she wants to look at the expression on his face, but she can't. "What is this, Jess? Do you think I'm making a mistake or something?"
"Of course not," she mutters before finding her voice. "This is what you want, so I think it's really great."
He stares at her for a while like he doesn't believe her (he shouldn't), but she finally looks back at him and plasters a smile on her face, and his shoulders drop in relief. "Okay, good. Because your opinion means a lot to me."
She could do nothing but nod in return, so she does, and snuggles down into the pillows again. He turns toward the TV, and they watch the rest of the movie together in silence. Jess couldn't remember a single thing about the film, but she definitely paid attention to the way his head would roll towards her whenever he laughed, and how the back of his knuckles brushed against hers during "The Time of My Life."
After Dirty Dancing, they watch two more movies that Jess doesn't focus on. The credits eventually end (they watch every single name roll by), and Nick stands to stretch; when he raises his arms above his head, his shirt lifts a little, revealing the skin underneath and she has to look away. "Here, come on," he says, holding his hand out to her. She simply stares at it, before looking back up at him. He laughs a little and moves his hand closer to hers. "Come to the bar, have a drink with me."
"Nick… No," she sighs, laying her whole body on the ground for emphasis. "It has been a crazy long couple of days, and I am so exhausted, and-"
"Come on!" He jogs to the door to grab her jacket, even though it's June in LA and they both know she doesn't need it, and he holds it out to her as a last incentive. "You and Sam broke up two days ago; we did your breakup routine, now let's give mine a shot."
"Drinking to forget?"
"There it is. Let's go!"
Jess knows she should say no; getting wildly drunk alone with Nick is a monumentally stupid idea (she could only imagine what Cece would say), but he's looking at her with such care and sincerity that her heart won't let her refuse. It's just one night. She grabs his hand and lets him lead her out of the loft and into the streets below.
Jess does get wildly drunk, but for some reason, she's able to keep herself from doing anything stupid, even though she thought about it a lot. Cece would be so proud, she thinks with a smile.
"What?" Nick laughs beside her, and she's vaguely reminded of his arm holding her up as they walk toward the elevator.
Oh, she said that out loud. Well oops, maybe she did say something stupid, she just didn't realize it. All this worrying is making her brain go fuzzy so she stops thinking altogether and closes her eyes with a sigh.
"Alright, you're not making it back to the loft like this," he says, and pulls her shaky frame into his arms. Her mind instantly flashes back to three years ago, when Nick picked her up exactly the same way he does just now and walked her into his bedroom, releasing months of sexual tension in one incredible night. She wants to escape the memory and moans, shifting in his arms, but he tightens his grip and turns his face toward hers. "It's okay, Jess," he laughs, mistaking the reason for her restlessness. "I like taking care of you." With that she softens, melting into him and resting her head on his shoulder. He carries her into her room and lays her down on the bed, and she pretends not to notice the way he gently brushes the hair out of her face and how his voice cracks when he whispers, "Goodnight, Jess" before he leaves her all alone.
...
The alarm clock on her nightstand is beeping way too loudly, and the sun is blaring through her curtain-less windows. She must have forgotten to close them last night. Jess rolls over and blindly slaps the table until she finally hits the clock, shutting it up. Groaning, she cracks open one eye and glances around her bedroom. Everything is blurry, everything, and she can't remember anything. What's her name, where the hell is she, what is going on? As the details from her life and last night piece themselves together in her broken hangover brain, she slowly rises from her bed and staggers into the closet. Grabbing the first top and bottom she can find, not even bothering to check if they match, she pulls them on and heads for the bathroom. It's going to take a lot of work to make her look presentable today.
Nearly an hour later, you totally can't tell that her eyes are bloodshot and her breath smells like tequila (or so she tells herself), so she gives up and goes into the kitchen. Tea or coffee, tea or coffee? Her brain hurts too much trying to decide, and she makes both. Jess knows she's running late; the school year ended last week, but she's supposed to go have a "recap of the year" meeting with her boss before Genevieve leaves on vacation. She's aware of Nick sleeping in his room down the hall… Unless, she just dreamed him coming home? Who knows what the heck happened yesterday. A loud snore from behind his door shakes this thought from her head, and she writes a note to him before she grabs her purse and walks out of the loft.
The meeting goes as well as possible under the circumstances, Jess thinks. Genevieve immediately picks up on Jess's slightly inebriated state, but says that she's been stoned since the school year ended, so she doesn't care. Jess keeps her sunglasses on through the meeting and drinks liberally from the coffee-tea hybrid in her mug, but they actually manage to have a productive conversation about some changes they want to make in the year to come. Jess also brings up a thought she had for a summer learning camp, and her boss thinks it's great and gives her the names of some teachers who might be interested in helping. The morning drags on a little, but she's pleased with how it turns out. Saying goodbye to Genevieve, "See you in September!", Jess walks out to her car and is surprised to see Nick sitting on the hood. Her heart jumps out of her chest and she doesn't try to contain it.
"Hey," she says, walking over to him. He's also wearing sunglasses even though it's not very bright out, so maybe he's a little hungover too, but he looks a lot more put together than she does. "What are you doing here?"
Nick's face breaks into a wide smile, and he holds up the takeout bag in his hand as an explanation. When she doesn't react, he says, "I didn't know you had to work this morning or I never would have let you get as drunk as I did. I felt bad, so… Thought I'd treat ya to lunch. This is the best hangover food on the east coast."
"We're on the west coast, but thank you," she takes a taco from the bag and sits beside him on top of her car. He laughs, low and easily, and unwraps a burrito for himself. They spend the rest of the afternoon there together, sitting cross-legged on her hood facing each other. It's so easy to talk with him like this, it almost feels like it did before they ever dated and their friendship became complicated. For those few hours, she lets herself forget about her feelings and his current relationship status, and they tease each other and make fun of Schmidt. It's nice, she missed this. It hasn't been this way between them for a long time.
After what simultaneously feels like only seconds and yet years have gone by, Nick says they should go back home. The bag of takeout is long gone, and Jess's thighs have been burning on the hot metal of her car for a while now, but she doesn't want to leave this moment. She wishes she could stay here with him like this, forever, but they can't and she gets in the passenger seat, passing Nick the keys.
He suggests going out again that night, but she folds her arms over her body and shyly asks if they can just stay in. He pauses for a minute, before a small grin breaks on his face and he says, "Okay." There's a moment where they're both staring at each other, standing only a few feet apart, but it passes and he rubs his neck with a sigh. "Probably a good idea, it only took you three glasses to get wasted last night."
"Hey!" she yells, and hits him with a pillow. "I can hold my liquor, Miller."
"Yeah? Prove it." The last time he said that to her, she kissed him; she briefly wonders if he remembers. He licks his lips and locks eyes with her, and she feels it, that pull that used to be so strong between them and hasn't ever really gone away. She takes a step toward him, but then gets nervous and breaks his gaze, walking backwards until she hits the wall behind her.
"Um," she chokes out, "I think we drank all your beers last night."
Nick seems to have recovered from their "moment" or whatever, and exhales in laughter. "Do you really think I only have one six-pack of beer in the loft at any given time?"
"Well, I did, but I now see that I was wrong." He walks into his room and comes back with some Heislers and a couple of suspicious-looking bottles, and then grabs her pink wine from the fridge in the kitchen. "Pink wine and all this? If I didn't know any better Mr. Miller, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk."
"Hey, you're the one who said you could hold your liquor. I'm just helping ya complete the challenge." She glares at him, grabbing the pink wine and drinking it straight from the bottle. His eyes grow wide, a smile lighting up his face while he laughs at her. A few hours go by while they play made-up drinking games and watch bad infomercials on the TV. At some point they tipsily wander into the kitchen and decide to make cupcakes, and when he smears a bit of frosting on her cheek, his finger runs across her lips momentarily and she wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
The sun has gone down, and only a lamp in the corner of the room illuminates the couch they're sitting on, closer together than they should be. Jess isn't drunk (she doesn't want to forget tonight), and Nick seems to be taking it easy with the alcohol too. She doesn't know why and she doesn't ask, but after a while he's staring at her again and she thinks he doesn't want to forget tonight, either. Whatever happens. His eyes flicker to her lips and her cheeks grow warm under his gaze, and she feels it. If she's going to do something, talk to him or... otherwise, it has to be tonight; he's leaving tomorrow, and this is her last chance. But when she opens her mouth to tell him everything, he bites his lip and she loses her nerve. "Uh, bathroom," she chokes out, and runs down the hall.
Jess splashes water over her face and furiously rubs at her cheeks. What is she thinking, she's not this person. She doesn't try to seduce someone else's boyfriend. He was your boyfriend first, a tiny voice whispers in her ear, and she shakes her head to get rid of it. Although… the first time they kissed, she was dating someone else. Nick had thrown caution to the wind and gone after what he wanted then, so why can't she do that now? Even though it's technically fair, she tells herself, she's still not brave enough or careless enough to make a move, but she can put herself out there… Right?
With their first kiss in mind, she walks into her bedroom to change into "pajamas." She finds her soft pink robe that he once called catnip, and slips it on over a tiny pair of shorts and an invisible shirt. She even puts on that stupid purple bra, even though he won't see it (Or will he, that voice whispers again, and she smirks at herself in the mirror). Trying to appear casual, she struts back into the living room, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes drag up her legs as she lies down on the couch beside him. "What should we do now?"
He shrugs, and turns his head back to the TV. If he notices what she's doing, he doesn't show it. But when he goes into his bedroom to change, he comes back out wearing the same green shirt he wore that night, and she loses all self-control. (To be fair, it was pretty much gone from the second he walked back through the door yesterday.) She rises from the couch before the angel on her shoulder can say anything and meets him in the hallway; he laughs at her quietly and then furrows his brow, obviously confused but she doesn't care. "Jessica," he growls, and she's gone.
The last thing she sees before pressing her lips to his are his deep, intense brown eyes, and she's pretty sure they'll be burned in her memory like that forever. Her lips crash onto his, and it takes only a second before he's kissing her back; his arms wrap around her like they always did, and one of her hands runs across his chest while the other tugs at the short hairs on the back of his head. It feels familiar and exciting, and they try to pull each other even closer for what feels like forever before she has to break apart for air. As soon as she does, her mind catches up with her and reminds her of the truth she tried to push away before: He has a girlfriend. He has a girlfriend he's crazy about and what the hell have you done.
"Oh my God," she whimpers, bringing her hand to her mouth and pinching her eyes shut. She can still feel the heat, the electricity that ran through her nerves when her lips met his. She slowly opens her eyes to find Nick staring at her; his hair a little disheveled and his t-shirt still bunched up from where she clawed at it.
"You're drunk," he mutters, rubbing his hand awkwardly behind his neck.
"I'm so sorry. Oh my God, I'm so sorry Nick. I didn't… I ruined everything. Oh God. Oh, God."
"Jess, it's okay. You didn't ruin anything. You're drunk," he repeats, and maybe she's crazy, but it almost sounds like he's telling it to himself. "That was just-"
"Nick, I really-"
"A mistake." His words cut through her rambling and make her heart shatter like he has literally reached into her chest and crushed it with his bare hands. In this moment, she can no longer speak; her mouth hangs open while her eyes search his for any hint that he doesn't mean it, but she sees nothing. He narrows his eyes at her, his lips purse in confusion and she wants to kiss them again. "I mean, right? You didn't mean to kiss me, you're just drunk and hurting over Sam. And I'm finally with Reagan now. It didn't mean anything." He's "finally" with Reagan, and she finally gets it: it's over between them, there's nothing still there, he's through with her. She thinks that she should feel like crying, but all that's inside her is anger; at herself, at Reagan, but mostly at Nick. She has no right to be mad at him, but she can't help it. "Right?" he asks again, and her fists clench up by her side.
"Yeah, no, you're right. I'm really broken up about the whole Sam thing." Her voice sounds like anything but her own, it's laced with rage and a part of her relishes in it. "I should… I gotta go to bed. I have a meeting in the morning with some teachers from school. Do you need a ride to the airport tomorrow?"
"No, I called a cab, but Jess-"
"Great." Her anger fades, and she just feels shattered. She stomps off to her room and shuts the door loudly, cringing to herself about how childish she's being, but she won't stay out there and break down in front of him. She can't. She sighs and leans against the door, and can hear him stomping around in their kitchen. She wants to go back out and do… something. Apologize for acting weird, laugh off the kiss like it really didn't matter, and talk all night while eating the cupcakes she made him and binge-watching The Walking Dead. Or maybe tell him that the kiss did mean something, at least to her, and ask him to stay. Or… kiss him again. Just, anything. She doesn't want him to leave like this; their last night together to be spent in their own rooms, separated by five feet of hallway and miles of miscommunication. He slams his hands down on the counter and she can hear his footsteps getting nearer, her pulse quickening and her breath catching when she sees his shadow outside her door. She listens to him muttering, almost thinks she hears him put his hands on the wooden frame between them, and is about to turn around and open the door when his bedroom door slams shut and all that remains is silence. Jess puts her head in her hands and slides to the floor, pulling her knees in tightly to her chest, and cries herself to sleep.
...
The sunlight streams in through her curtain-less windows again, and Jess blinks hard at the brightness before taking in her surroundings. She is in her bedroom but not on her bed, instead lying on the floor in front of her doorway. She sits up quickly, ignoring a head rush and rubs at her sore muscles from the crick in her neck.
Oh God. The night before comes flooding back through her senses, catching her off guard and making it hard for her to breathe. She kissed him. She presses her palms to her forehead, trying to push away the memories like a bad hangover. He kissed her back. But it isn't a hangover; she wasn't drunk last night, she knew what she was doing, and she will undoubtedly remember it for the rest of her life. He said it was a mistake. All of a sudden, she became too aware of her surroundings; the hallway light flooding in through the crack at the bottom of her door, the sound of the faucet running in the bathroom, a cell phone buzzing in some distant room. The carpet scratched at her bare thighs, and she looks down to find that she is still only wearing the pink robe she put on last night. Jess rolls her eyes at past Jess and jumps off the floor to change into something else, anything else, settling on the sky blue pajama set sitting on the nearest shelf in her closet. The small, vintage-style alarm clock on her nightstand ticks ominously like the metronome to her soundtrack of bad decisions, and when she dares to glance at it, her stomach leaps into her throat. Nick's flight leaves in less than three hours, if he wants to make it through security, he needs to leave, like, 30 minutes ago. She risks a moment to let herself think that he isn't actually leaving; that he too felt something in their kiss last night and decided to stay behind, for her, but she's pulled from her daydream by the sound of a car honking on the street below. Racing to the window, Jess sees a yellow cab parked in front of their building, hears the water in the bathroom turn off, and listens as Nick pads down the hallway to his room. Scratch that- to her room. She sees his feet stop by her door, hears his all-too-familiar sigh, and tears flood her eyes before she can stop them. He's leaving.
"Jess?" She froze. His voice is low, timid, and he raps his knuckles against her door lightly. "Hey, I know you're in there." She hears a soft thud and imagines him putting his hands in his pockets and leaning his head against her door.
"My cab's here, I- I gotta go. Jess?" Fresh tears spring to her eyes; she hastily brushes them away and tries to walk toward the door, but her feet won't move. She wants to go to him, she wants to make up for last night, she wants to say goodbye. She wants to tell him everything, but her feet won't move. She tries, she pleads, she even pushes against the wall behind her to launch herself forward, but nothing works. She starts to cry again before he speaks, his voice breaking through the clouds in her mind. "Okay, well… goodbye. I'll miss ya, kid."
His shadow remains outside her door for a moment longer, then suddenly it lets out a deep sigh and leaves, the sound of Nick's footsteps walking across the loft. She hears him pick up his bags by the front door, then a click as it shuts, and she breaks.
Her feet finally move; she's sobbing and she's sure her mascara from last night is all over her face, but she doesn't care as she pushes her beat-up flats onto her feet and runs out the door after him. She gets to the elevator but he's already gone down it; too impatient to wait for it to climb back up, she rushes to the stairs and almost trips down them a few times but never slows her pace until she reaches the lobby. Shoving open the front door of their building, she blinks into the too-bright sunlight and there he is. She's not too late, he's still here. He has one foot in the cab, but she calls his name and his head snaps up in surprise.
"Jess," he whispers, his voice cracks a little and it's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard. She's vaguely aware that she's still in her pajamas, but the thought is pushed from her mind when he smiles and walks toward her, pulling her tightly against him. It's the most physically intimate moment they've shared since they broke up, besides the kiss; they have always been so careful not to touch each other like this in the past two years, but she forgets about the ramifications and collapses into him. She buries her head in his neck and he threads his fingers through her hair, his warm breath tickles her ear as he chuckles a little.
"I'm really gonna miss you," she mutters and pulls him even closer, fresh tears staining his shirt but he doesn't seem to care. They stay locked in their embrace for a while longer; she finally feels like she can breathe again, having him so close, but with her head pressed against his chest she can tell that his breathing is more labored, uneven. The cab driver honks impatiently, causing them to jump apart and her world suddenly feels a shade darker. He puts his hand behind his head and she crosses her arms, feeling very small and insecure. "Have a safe trip. Nick, I'm…" she trails off, drawing in a shaky breath and finally looking into his eyes. "I'm so proud of you."
"You are?"
"Yeah, of course." She smiles at him and hopes he doesn't notice the waver in her voice. "You're going after what you want. I think that's amazing, Miller. I just… I want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy." Even if it's not with me, she thinks bitterly, and her heart breaks a little bit more. "And if going to New Orleans will make you happy, then I support you, because…" Deep breath, "that's what you do when you love someone."
Something in his face changes and he looks at her so delicately, like she's the most precious thing in the world. He drops his arm and steps confidently toward her, taking her face in his hands and-
Jess stares out her window and watches Nick shove his bags into the trunk of the cab below. She watches as he opens the back door, puts one foot inside, and then turns to look up at their loft, at her. She watches him shake his head, duck into the cab, and then he's gone.