Author's notes:
To everyone who has read, commented, favorited and followed: thank you so very much! I'll try to update regularly, once a week I hope. But it will be harder once I'll be working (in September). I have seven chapters planned.
Please forgive any mistake, this story is unbeta'd.
I'd love to read your thoughts. If you can, please leave a comment. This is highly motivating and I simply love to interact with you.
Good reading!
He was not answering her calls.
She understood that he needed space. Things were kind of awkward, she got it. But this was killing her. Not being able to speak to him – not being able to fix things.
Stefan had been kind enough to call her and let her know that Nik was staying at his place for a few days. He had tried to reassure her, told her that Nik was okay. But, apart from that, she had not heard from her best friend since the... thing.
And now, more than two days later, she was starting to get angry and restless. And this was why she was going through the kitchen cabinets, perched on a stool, sorting every bit of food in alphabetical order. On a Monday night. Anything to keep herself busy, anything to keep her from going to Stefan's and do something that she would regret – like punching someone in the face.
This peanut butter was clearly past its expiration date. Gross.
She was going to give him a piece of her mind when he came back. She was going to tell him that he was acting like a petulant child. Why did he have to act like a damn martyr? Acting as though she had broken his heart.
Her fingers tightened around the jar of peanut butter, mimicking the clenching of her heart at the thought that, maybe, she had indeed broken his heart. But this was silly, Nik could not harbor these kind of feelings for her. She would have noticed. And they were not like that, they were a team – just not the romantic type. And Nik did not fall in love. He flirted, he dated but he had never given his heart to someone...
Until two days ago.
Maybe.
She just was not sure anymore.
But if he was in love with her, then it meant that she had... She could not bear the thought. She sighed, feeling defeated. She had hurt him, she was sure of that, at least. She knew him, knew he thought she had rejected him. And she felt awful. Terrible.
She was a terrible person!
''When did I become the bad guy?'' she wondered out loud, blowing a strand of hair as she spoke.
The walls did not seem to have an answer for her.
''Screw this,'' she exclaimed, tossing the peanut butter in the kitchen trash can. She was going to Stefan's. She had given him space. He did not want to see her? Well too bad, because she needed to see him and fix this mess. And if she had to tie him down to make him listen to her, well she would do it! She did not know how but she would!
Damn right she would!
She went to her bedroom and dialed Klaus' phone number once more while picking up a pair of jeans. This time, her call went straight to voicemail. Feeling more determined than ever, she quickly changed clothes and grabbed her keys, only to stop in her tracks when she heard the sound of the front door lock turning.
The door opened, revealing a tired-looking Klaus. He was holding his briefcase and a duffel bag, and a plastic bag with something that looked like Chinese takeout. An indescribable look flickered across his face when he saw her in the hallway – but he did not say anything. And she just stood there, blinking – rooted to the spot – not knowing how to breathe anymore.
''You're back,'' she said, finally. And now, she realized just how much she had missed him.
And it scared her. A lot.
''Hey, Caroline,'' he said simply, coming inside. She tilted her head and looked at him as he dropped his bag and briefcase on the floor. He looked impeccable in his work clothes, and calm – as calm as she was feeling nervous.
He stayed silent as he went in the kitchen, walking past her. He set the takeout boxes on the counter and took two plates from the cabinet, and proceeded to open the boxes. In freaking silence.
He was giving her the silent treatment.
Seriously?
''Seriously?''
He looked up at her and frowned. ''What?'' he asked, looking perplexed.
''So, you're just going to ignore me?'' He was just going to pretend that she was not there. That he did not care. That this was nothing.
Maybe this was nothing. Maybe he had simply realized how stupid the whole thing was.
''Caroline,'' he sighed. ''I just came back from work. Can we please not do this right now? I'm tired. And hungry,'' he gestured toward the food. He took two forks from the side drawer and began to fill the plates, not looking at her.
''Well, I'm tired too,'' she said, before she could even help herself. ''I tried to call you,'' she continued, somewhat accusingly.
It was not what she wanted to say. No. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry. Tell him that she had never wanted to hurt him. But, looking at him, being all aloof and silent, resentment started to bubble up inside her. She resented the fact that he could be so calm about everything. When she had these feelings. Feelings that she did not know what to make of.
''I thought you were not coming back.''
''I believe I live here,'' was his reply. She snorted. ''Obviously. That's why I haven't seen you in almost three days!'' Smooth Caroline.
''Caroline.'' The way he said her name told her it was a warning.
''Can we talk?'' she asked, tentatively.
''There's nothing to talk about.'' Okay, so she was dealing with emotionally closed-off Nik. She was not that surprised, really. Usually, when he was like this, she would just hound him until he flipped. But she knew she should not test his patience tonight.
Still. She had to try.
''Nik, I'm sorry.'' She approached him, slowly, carefully.
''Stop.''
''I never meant to hurt you.''
''I said: 'Stop'.'' Hands flat on the counter, lips pursed, he looked like he was about to have one of his temper tantrums – and she realized that what she had mistaken for cool composure was, in fact, cold anger.
He was angry. At her. Three days of pent-up emotions. But she would not let that stop her.
''Tell me how I can make it better. I'll – '' She took another tentative step toward but froze when he turned toward her. His face, an icy mask.
''Enough!'' he bellowed. He was finally looking at her – granted, it was with narrowed eyes – but he was looking at her. Deep blue orbs fixed on her, full of simmering anger, and something else that she was not used to seeing in his eyes. Something that she did not have a name for. For the briefest of moments, it made her heart flutter – took her breath away –, and she could not look at him anymore.
She turned away from him. Maybe some things were better left unsaid after all.
''You're right. There's nothing to talk about,'' she replied. ''I'm tired. I'm going to bed,'' she said above her shoulder. ''Good night.''
''Caroline,'' she heard him behind her. He sighed. ''Good night.''
~o~
She huffed. Good night, indeed. She could not sleep. It was three in the freaking morning and she just could not sleep. She was supposed to get up for work in less than four hours...
She turned again and put her pink sleeping eye mask back on. She stayed like that for a few seconds before she turned on her back again.
The night was silent except for the sound of the wind blowing outside – the sounds of the windy city muffled in the distance. She usually took comfort in the peace and quiet of the chilly nights, but the confrontation with Nik had left her feeling anxious.
She took off her sleeping eye mask – again. Sleep was simply evading her, and she had come to the conclusion that she would not get any sleep tonight. She threw back the covers with a groan and got out of bed. Might as well do something to take her mind off the disaster that was her life.
That was what sleeping with your best friend did to you.
Well. To be honest, her dissatisfaction with her life did not have much to do with the... thing with Nik. She had not been happy for some time now.
First, there was her relationship with Matt, which was not much of a relationship, really. They had spent more time broken up than together. And there was also the fact that she did not like who she was with him, did not like how he made her feel – insecure and inadequate.
And, yet, she loved him – sincerely. Matt was a good man, but he simply was not the right man. She had finally accepted that – that they did not work together –, and she had come to think that, maybe, she did not love him like she was supposed to. And, how could you be in love with someone you did not miss?
And then – then, there was her job. She had always thought that planning events was her thing. And that working for Carol Lockwood would be the career boost she needed. But now, two years later, her career was going nowhere; and she was thinking that, perhaps, it was not what she wanted in life after all. And what did she want? She simply did not know.
And now, there was Nik.
Niklaus. Klaus. He had always been Nik to her – ever since he pushed her off the swing (the little brute!) when they were six.
But they were not kids anymore.
She grabbed her robe and opened the door of her bedroom. She listened intently, and when she did not hear any sound, she went downstairs.
There, in the living room, she turned the TV on. She made herself comfortable on the couch as random images filled the screen, and she did not have to think anymore.
~o~
He woke up well before his alarm clock went off. It was five thirty and he had barely slept. Sleep had become his only reprieve, if only for a few hours. Ever since that night, every single conscious moment was filled with longing – longing to breathe her, taste her. Feel her.
And it was torture.
He needed her and she did not want him.
The story of his life really, when you thought about it.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remains of his savorless dreams, and went to take a shower. There, arms outstretched against the wall, hands closed into fists, he let the water clear his mind, wash away his frustration and tension. For months, he had tried to shake her off his heart. But she had remained there, unmoving.
Taunting him. Tempting him.
He had never wanted these feelings but they clawed at his heart. Puzzled and troubled him. Haunted him. Day and night.
But then, that night happened. And, when she kissed him, when she murmured his name – over and over – against his neck as he moved above her, he thought that maybe he was not alone in this. That maybe –
He was a fool, he realized now. She did not want him.
Not like he wanted her.
Caroline. Full of contradictions – and bright –, bright like the sun. Out of reach, and burning. She lit a fire in him every time he looked at her. And he could not help but let her. Consume him.
He chuckled under the spray. He was a fool.
A damn fool.
He finished getting ready for the day – his thoughts full of her – and went downstairs. The TV was on and he wondered if Caroline was already up. She was not an early riser, although she was one of these annoyingly cheerful people. And then, he saw her.
Sleeping on the couch. A mass of blond curls hiding her face.
Her pink robe was opened and her nightgown had ridden up a little, giving him a perfect view of her milky skin. Soft and sweet. He took the remote and turned the TV off. She was snoring a little, he noticed with a smile.
He leaned toward her to brush a strand of hair, and lightly caressed her cheek with his thumb. He could not help himself.
''It's time for you to wake up, Caroline.'' She stirred a little. ''Sweetheart, wake up,'' he said again.
''Five more minutes,'' she groaned against the cushion.
''Fine, I'll be in the kitchen making coffee.''
The coffee was brewing when she appeared. ''Hey,'' she said, voice raspy and eyes heavy with sleep. She was still in her robe but she had put her hair up in a messy bun.
''Rough night?'' he asked. She did not say anything but she gave him a pointed look, and he felt a little guilty, knowing fully well that he was the cause of her misery.
His neurotic friend.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and stayed silent – it was so unlike her that it made him uneasy. She was supposed to be light and happy.
''I'm sorry,'' he said before he could stop himself. He hated having to apologize. To anyone. But he hated seeing the shadows in her eyes even more.
She held her coffee with both hands, leaning against the counter. ''Are we okay?'' she inquired, biting her lip. There was something vulnerable in her big baby blue eyes.
''What?''
''Are we okay?'' she asked again – and it tugged at his heart, the way she seemed so hesitant around him.
He took a step toward her and smiled at her reassuringly, ignoring the fire that was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach.
''Well, of course, sweetheart.'' But he could see that she did not believe him, and so, against his better judgment, he took her in his arms. ''We're okay,'' he said firmly, enjoying the feel of her against him. Her arms encircled him, held him tightly – and it healed his battered heart a little bit.
''I'm glad,'' she replied against his chest. ''Are you okay?'' she asked after a few seconds.
Was he okay?
No. But he had to be – for them to be okay.
So, he lied. ''Yes. I'm okay.''
The smile he got in return was so blinding that he understood that – in the end – she was all that mattered.
~o~
''We have a problem,'' Marcel greeted him when he arrived in their office, at Richard Lockwood's campaign headquarters – an hour later. From his friend's somber look, he understood that this was serious.
''Tell me.''
''This is bad, Klaus. Very bad. This could potentially destroy any chances Richard has of winning the election.'' He would never let that happen. They had worked too hard for that to happen.
''How?'' was all he asked. He sat on his desk and waited for Marcel to explain.
''A girl in New Orleans is threatening to go to the press and speak about her and Richard.''
''Regarding?'' He hoped to God that this was not going where he thought this was going.
''She says she's pregnant.'' The last thing they needed now was a babygate.
He could feel a headache coming on.
''Have you talked to Richard?'' Marcel nodded. He was not telling him everything. His stomach dropped. Things were about to get worse. He gestured his friend to go on.
''She's a teenager.'' You've got to be kidding!
This was indeed very bad.
''So Richard did not deny it?'' Marcel shook his head. Great.
''What can you tell me about her? What have you gathered?''
''She's a foster child. She's seventeen but Richard swears she looked at least twenty-three. Her name is Hayley. He doesn't know her last name. He says it did not last very long. She has been asking money – a lot of money.''
Interesting.
Well, there was a good chance she could be bought off. But he needed to speak to Richard first and make sure he knew everything.
''Alright, let me talk to Richard.'' Marcel nodded and turned to leave.
''You might have to make a trip to New Orleans, Marcel,'' he stopped him.
''Sure.'' Something told him that Marcel would not mind in the least.
Alright – he had a lot to do. And he welcomed the distraction.
Anything to stop thinking about her.
His phone buzzed, signaling he had received a new text message. It came from Caroline. It seemed that there was no escaping her. He pressed 'OK'.
'''I'm making dinner tonight!''' the message said. He groaned. She was the only person he knew who could actually burn water.
Well, he would have to drop by Antonio's on his way home.
Home.