DISCLAIMER: Only Nicollet Cordelli, her parents, the high school teachers,
and the names not featured in the movie Newsies belong to me. The other
characters belong to Disney. Also, the food restaurants used don't belong
to me. So don't sue me, k?
A.N: Mucho thanks to all who reviewed!!! YaaaaY! I'm thrilled that ya'll are thinking this story rocks! There's only a few more chapters to go, though, so don't get too attached. ^_^ Shout-outs to: Ice Renegade, Kate Lawrence, Meredith, Seraph, Dreamer, imaginelet, ember, Dimples, NicNac, Spatz, K.M-Skyes, and Isabelle Gibson! You goils are awesome!
*Confessions*
~~~Perhaps what Nicollet hated the most about Mr. Rogers' American history class was that he formulated his seating chart by means of alphabetical order, thus placing her at Spot's side with a last name that came right after his own. Cordelli. Why had she been cursed with a surname that began with the letter she now hated? It might not have been so bad if each student had his or her own seat and writing area, but no, Mr. Rogers liked tables built for two instead and so Spot and Nicollet were forced to share a small desk space with one another.
She re-folded her arms when her elbow swelled with soreness and once again rested her head down to catch a quick nap while the teacher stepped out in the hall to address an unruly student. Spot watched her for a few moments and inwardly sighed. He wanted so much to speak with her and apologize for all he had said at the lacrosse game the other night, and yet he was too proud to do so. Why should he be the one to step down if it was just as much her fault as it was his? He didn't want to seem weak.
So instead of making amends, he merely took out a car magazine and started to peruse through the pages. The class prankster was busy trying to hide Mr. Rogers' lecture notes while the others were either flirting with their crushes, scribbling profane remarks in the back pages of their text books, or gossiping about whoever stole whoever's girlfriend. Spot shook his head; all was normal in other words. That is, until he noticed Matt Bradshaw hesitantly making his way over to him with hands in his pockets and eyes looking down. He had been a new student to the class during the second semester, and so though his name was alphabetically at the top of the roll, he had been assigned a seat towards the back.
"Heya Merryll." Matt kept his gaze downwards to his feet, as if the dirt on their laces was less intimidating than Mr. Popular's icy cool glare.
Nicollet instantly awoke at the sound of Matt's voice. "Bradshaw, what brings ya to this side of the classroom?" She smiled at his obvious nervousness; it reminded her of Mush. "Come to get those CD's I promised you?" She leaned over towards her backpack to retrieve the objects, but Matt interrupted her.
"Actually," he replied, "I was going to ask Merryll here if he could switch seats with me."
"Why?" Spot closed his magazine and narrowed his eyes at the boy, his blue irises turning grey in a judging fashion.
"Just to be closer to Nikki, I guess. And also, it'd help if I was closer to the board so I could see what Mr. Rogers is writing. I think I've gone blind in this class trying to decipher his sentences." Spot laughed sarcastically, but Matt didn't notice. "Anyways, I thought you'd be a pal and help a guy out."
"Oh really?"
Nicollet ignored Spot's remarks. "Of course you can switch seats with him, Matt. Just ask Mr. Rogers when he comes back, he wouldn't mind. It'd be funner having you as my partner than Merryll."
"Actually, Matt," came Spot's argument, "I kinda have bad eyesight myself, so maybe you can just switch seats with someone else." It was another lie, but that was beside the point. "Besides, I like sitting next to Nikki and annoying the hell out of her. She'll never admit it, but it turns her on."
"The hell it does!"
Matt stepped back from the arguing pair. It was freaky how they wouldn't look at each other even though the disagreement was between them. It was as if they were using him as the middle man; he could only scratch the back of his head in confusion and continue to watch them.
"Don't believe anything he says. I would gladly switch schedules if I could if it meant I wouldn't have to deal with Merryll. Shoot, I'd switch school districts! You go ahead and tell Mr. Rogers about this, okay?"
Spot's glare hardened. "Seating arrangements can't be changed so late in the year. We only have a few more weeks left of school!"
"If you can't see, then you can't see. There's nothing you can do about it! If you need to switch seats with someone, then do it. I'm sure our teacher won't mind."
"Ya know what? Forget this." Spot stuffed his backpack with his magazine, rose to his feet, and slung the bag over his shoulders. "If you wanna sit with the damn girl, go ahead. I could care less."
Nicollet bit her bottom lip as she felt the burden of what was happening. She hadn't really wanted Spot to move; it was merely a way of proving that she was just as strong as he. She couldn't simply sit there and have Matt shooed away for it'd make her look as if she wanted to stay near Spot, which was an image she couldn't yet uphold. "Well, Matt, you still need to get it approved by Mr. Rogers."
Her eyes met with Spot's for the briefest moment, and then they looked away from each other, embarrassed. Matt Bradshaw, however, had no idea what was passing between the two, and so when their history teacher finally returned to the class, he raised the matter of the seating arrangement almost immediately, and Mr. Rogers obliged him. Spot was assigned a new seat towards the back of the classroom next to infamous slacker Heath Soto, who was occupying himself with building a pyramid with empty cigarette boxes, and slouched into the empty chair almost miserably.
Nicollet looked back at him as if to say sorry but Spot only glowered back.
~*~*~*~*~
Jack, Emma, Snitch, and Blink looked on amused as Spot tried to handle his present fight with the utmost urbanity.
"Sure, laugh it up," Spot raised his voice at them, not seeing how they could find humor in his hard luck. He turned back to the vending machine and rested his forehead against the hard plastic structured between him and the bag of Doritos he had wasted three quarters to. His eyes fell onto the clamp holding the bag which had only turned to the right ever so slightly, thus keeping the Doritos from falling to the below dispenser, and let out an agitated growl.
In a sudden bout of anger, he brought back a clenched fist and began taking blows at the machine, but when that proved unsuccessful, he resulted to kicking the confounded thing, and then throwing his body against the machine. Yet all attempts proved to no avail. Letting a chain of obscenities flow from his mouth, he kicked once more and then crossed his arms discouraged. When he turned away from the machine, those who had been staring at him from the tables where they sat instantly looked away and continued their conversations.
Blink stepped forward with a mischievous grin on his face. "Does this have anything to do with Desiree having dumped you this morning?" Spot gave him a look as if to warn against pressing the matter any further.
Jack, however, didn't notice. "Whoa, Desiree broke up with you?" He let out a light laugh. "What's with you and not being able to keep a girl for more than a few days? Did you try to get more than she wanted to give?"
"I don't know," said Spot, but something in the way he had answered made them aware of his intentions to simply keep his business to himself, as far as relationships went.
"Maybe it has something to do with Nikki getting your ass moved away from her in history then?" Snitch asked slyly. He didn't have the class the same period as Nicollet or Spot, but when he had come to turn in an essay, he had noticed the difference in seating arrangement.
Spot glared at him. "Nah, it doesn't have anything to do with that. I wanted to move, she just gave me the perfect opportunity to."
"Sure she did," the other replied.
"Ya know, I don't know where you all get off telling me why the hell I feel the way I do. You don't know anything, okay? So stop making up crap about how it's all about Nikki. It's not. Get that through your heads."
The others submitted to silence, not wanting to birth an uncontrollable temper outbreak. Emma was the first to speak after a few moments. She smiled warmly at Spot and her words were soothing and at once calm. Spot never noticed how peaceful her voice was until now.
"Merryll, I don't know about the others, but when I first met you and Nikki, I thought you both made the cutest couple. True, you were always arguing with her, but some couples start off like that. Specs and I even did. We'd always compete against each other in class and try to be better than the other. But then we realized how much better things would be if we worked together...and no sooner did we do that, then we realized how much we needed each other."
Study hall's dismissal bell rang then, but the majority of the student body remained where they were seated, destined to not even think about moving until a dean came their way and shooed them off. Emma gathered her books from a nearby table and holding them in one arm, faced Spot again. "You have to look pass the fighting, Merryll, and figure out why it is you're always against each other. I doubt it has anything to do with hatred. Maybe it's competition, maybe it's just best friends bickering. Maybe it's even what you're afraid it is."
Spot arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly would that be?"
"Well, maybe it's just you two hiding the fact that you really want to be together."
~*~*~*~*~
Nicollet walked the length of her driveway where on either side were two long rectangular tables upon which laid various items for sale. Collectible dolls her mother use to collect, books, old clothes, jewelry, tools, and more of the like. Seeing an unpriced item, she brought blank labels from her pocket and scribbled '$1' onto one circular sticker before affixing it onto the object.
"Mom!" she called out into the open garage. "Can you bring me out a glass of orange juice?" Saturday mornings were better begun when started off with a cool drink to replenish the body. Nicollet absolutely loved orange juice; right after pink lemonade, she thought it the best drink in the world.
"Sure honey!" a voice replied from inside the house.
Nicollet reclined into a beach chair she had set up under the shade of her house's roof and watched an old couple go through her book collection while a young boy threw around toys cast aside in a box for something that appealed to him.
A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the tree on her front lawn and she closed her eyes to rest in the relaxation it gave her. Last week's garage sale had reeled in loads of money and proved to be a success. She hoped the same would hold true today. Thinking so, her mind escaped to happier days, better times in which she knew peace and comfort. When she reopened her eyes, they fell upon something for sale she hadn't noticed before. A raggedy old baseball glove with her initials written onto the palm.
She smiled. Spot had given it to her for her twelfth birthday-the year when making the school's softball team was her evolving obsession. Spot had trained with her for the three months summer allotted them, spending several hours a day with the girl even when his soccer friends beckoned him to ditch Nicollet and join them for a few laughs. He stayed with her throughout it all, and she couldn't thank him enough when the try- outs were over and the list of that season's team members posted; she had made the cut, and all because of Spot's devotion.
"What's changed in him?" she asked herself aloud. "Now he's devoted to the entire female population!"
The old couple approached her with three dollars in their hands, the total sum for the triad of books they wanted to purchase. Nicollet took the money with a smile and wished them a good day. As they left, more customers came to browse, one being Spot Conlon himself.
All week long, Spot had thought upon Emma's words. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out the reason behind his arguments with Nicollet. At first, they'd seem to be fueled by real purpose, with concrete reasoning and complaints that could withstand anything. But were such things only excuses? Were he and the girl only trying to magnify matters into things they were never meant to be? He wasn't quite sure. Fight after fight, it certainly seemed as if he and Nicollet were simply meant to be the type of best friends that bark at each other for the rest of their lives, but after Emma had spoken to him, he was beginning to question Nicollet's real motives, and those of his own.
And so, momentarily retiring his pride, he had decided to meet up with her once and for all and talk everything out thoroughly. It was hard to do at first, but he no longer anchored resentment towards her and it was making more and more sense as the hours passed to finally make a truce.
Nicollet pursed her lips as Spot neared her. Half of her went into a flustered frenzy, complete with speeding heart and a feeling of great panic, but the other half stayed on guard, unwilling to be hurt once again by the boy. Had he come to apologize, or had he come looking for trouble?
"What do you want?" she asked.
He pulled up a chair beside her and sat onto it. "I saw your 'Garage Sale' signs at the intersection and thought I'd stop by."
"Go away, Merryll." She turned in her seat so that her back was to him.
Spot's lips formed a straight line as his temper level rose. Why was she being so difficult? Here he was trying to make things better and all she could say was 'Go Away'? He would've left right then and there, but then he noticed a boy fitting his small hand into an all too familiar baseball glove. He spoke out in protest. "Hey! That's Ruthie!" (He and Nicollet hand an unusual ritual of naming inanimate objects back in the day)
She glanced at the boy holding out fifty cents-the total the glove was priced for. Somehow, the coins didn't look as alluring as the other money earned had. Their silver luster dulled in her sight; perhaps the glove's memories stole their glory. "Yea, and I don't want her anymore."
"Nikki, that cost me a month's allowance!"
She reluctantly held out her hand to receive the two quarters but Spot snatched her arm away. She gave him an incredulous look. "What's your problem? Why do you care so much?"
"Because...because, it was..."
"Special? Is that it? That it stood for our friendship? In case you haven't noticed, that friendship kinda doesn't stand anymore!"
The boy with the glove groaned in impatience. "Excuse me, can I buy this already?"
"Shut up!" Spot snapped at him. "Nikki, why are you acting like this, like you hate me?"
"Because you ruined what we had!"
Spot ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I ruined it? Damnit, what are you talking about!? You were the one who said you didn't want to hook up!"
She reached for the boy's two quarters again but Spot pulled her back. She shook his grip off her and wondered as to how he could manage acting like this, as if he hadn't a clue what she was talking about! "And you're the one who stuck your tongue down Amanda Riley's throat the day I thought you were going to ask me out!"
"W-what?" His eyes widened at the statement. "You, you saw that?"
"Of course I saw it! Don't act like you didn't know!"
"Are you going to take my fifty cents or what!" exclaimed the boy with the glove.
"Shut up!" Nikki yelled at him. She felt uncomfortable suddenly, as if she were a claustrophobic trapped in strange confines. She arose and walked to the front exterior of her house with her arms wrapped about her.
Spot followed behind worriedly. "I was breaking up with her, Nikki. I was breaking up with her and the little bitch acted like a brat and kissed me. I tried to push her away but she was acting all crazy. But I guess that's one thing you didn't see, huh?"
She knew the question had a bitter tone to it, but perhaps she deserved it. Still, was he speaking the truth? "You pushed her away?"
"Yea! I mean, I'm sorry and all that you thought I was cheating on you, but I thought you knew me better than that. I'd never do something like that to you."
A tear fell from her eye when something dawned on her. "You were talking about our kiss that day, not the one Amanda gave you..." She buried her face in her hands, humiliated. Why had she assumed as much? "I'm such an idiot! I thought..."
He took her hands down and leaned his forehead onto hers as he gazed into her tear-filled eyes. "Don't worry about it. It's okay now."
"What about all your kisses with Desiree?"
"What about all yours with Matt?"
She lowered her head and smiled down at her feet. So he had been checking up on her after all. She had to admit, it did make her feel better in an unusual way, to know he had had just as difficult a time as she. Spot placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face so that their eyes were level again.
"Can I buy this stupid glove!?!?"
"Shut Up!!" Spot and Nicollet had said it in unison this time. The boy rolled his eyes, threw the glove to the ground, and stormed off slightly agitated. The couple laughed.
"So," Spot said, as he brushed loose strands of hair behind Nicollet's ear, "does this mean we're starting over?"
She answered him with a heated lip-lock that injected a chain reaction of sparks throughout his body. Feeling her against his body like that, his arms encircled around her frame, was complete to him. Like it was meant to be. He hungrily kissed her back, cupping her face in his hands and trying to further his expeditions of her mouth.
"Nicollet Jamie Cordelli!"
The teenagers pulled away from the kiss instantly and turned to see Nicollet's mother standing aside them holding a glass of orange juice and wearing a surprised look. Though she appeared ready to scold them, her next words contradicted her parenting position. "If you're going to make out with Merryll, do it on your own time! We're running a business here, now get to work!" She handed her daughter the glass of juice, flashed a smile at the couple, and retreated back into the house.
"Thanks, Mrs. Cordelli," Spot called after the woman. Lacing his fingers with Nicollet's, he smirked and pulled the girl closer to him. "Sorry, girly, but it looks like you're going to have to wait until later for me to sweep ya off your feet."
She rolled her eyes but gave him one last kiss nonetheless. "Don't try too hard," she whispered into his ear. "I fell for you a long time ago."
~*~*~*~*~
More to Come. Review! ^_^
A.N: Mucho thanks to all who reviewed!!! YaaaaY! I'm thrilled that ya'll are thinking this story rocks! There's only a few more chapters to go, though, so don't get too attached. ^_^ Shout-outs to: Ice Renegade, Kate Lawrence, Meredith, Seraph, Dreamer, imaginelet, ember, Dimples, NicNac, Spatz, K.M-Skyes, and Isabelle Gibson! You goils are awesome!
*Confessions*
~~~Perhaps what Nicollet hated the most about Mr. Rogers' American history class was that he formulated his seating chart by means of alphabetical order, thus placing her at Spot's side with a last name that came right after his own. Cordelli. Why had she been cursed with a surname that began with the letter she now hated? It might not have been so bad if each student had his or her own seat and writing area, but no, Mr. Rogers liked tables built for two instead and so Spot and Nicollet were forced to share a small desk space with one another.
She re-folded her arms when her elbow swelled with soreness and once again rested her head down to catch a quick nap while the teacher stepped out in the hall to address an unruly student. Spot watched her for a few moments and inwardly sighed. He wanted so much to speak with her and apologize for all he had said at the lacrosse game the other night, and yet he was too proud to do so. Why should he be the one to step down if it was just as much her fault as it was his? He didn't want to seem weak.
So instead of making amends, he merely took out a car magazine and started to peruse through the pages. The class prankster was busy trying to hide Mr. Rogers' lecture notes while the others were either flirting with their crushes, scribbling profane remarks in the back pages of their text books, or gossiping about whoever stole whoever's girlfriend. Spot shook his head; all was normal in other words. That is, until he noticed Matt Bradshaw hesitantly making his way over to him with hands in his pockets and eyes looking down. He had been a new student to the class during the second semester, and so though his name was alphabetically at the top of the roll, he had been assigned a seat towards the back.
"Heya Merryll." Matt kept his gaze downwards to his feet, as if the dirt on their laces was less intimidating than Mr. Popular's icy cool glare.
Nicollet instantly awoke at the sound of Matt's voice. "Bradshaw, what brings ya to this side of the classroom?" She smiled at his obvious nervousness; it reminded her of Mush. "Come to get those CD's I promised you?" She leaned over towards her backpack to retrieve the objects, but Matt interrupted her.
"Actually," he replied, "I was going to ask Merryll here if he could switch seats with me."
"Why?" Spot closed his magazine and narrowed his eyes at the boy, his blue irises turning grey in a judging fashion.
"Just to be closer to Nikki, I guess. And also, it'd help if I was closer to the board so I could see what Mr. Rogers is writing. I think I've gone blind in this class trying to decipher his sentences." Spot laughed sarcastically, but Matt didn't notice. "Anyways, I thought you'd be a pal and help a guy out."
"Oh really?"
Nicollet ignored Spot's remarks. "Of course you can switch seats with him, Matt. Just ask Mr. Rogers when he comes back, he wouldn't mind. It'd be funner having you as my partner than Merryll."
"Actually, Matt," came Spot's argument, "I kinda have bad eyesight myself, so maybe you can just switch seats with someone else." It was another lie, but that was beside the point. "Besides, I like sitting next to Nikki and annoying the hell out of her. She'll never admit it, but it turns her on."
"The hell it does!"
Matt stepped back from the arguing pair. It was freaky how they wouldn't look at each other even though the disagreement was between them. It was as if they were using him as the middle man; he could only scratch the back of his head in confusion and continue to watch them.
"Don't believe anything he says. I would gladly switch schedules if I could if it meant I wouldn't have to deal with Merryll. Shoot, I'd switch school districts! You go ahead and tell Mr. Rogers about this, okay?"
Spot's glare hardened. "Seating arrangements can't be changed so late in the year. We only have a few more weeks left of school!"
"If you can't see, then you can't see. There's nothing you can do about it! If you need to switch seats with someone, then do it. I'm sure our teacher won't mind."
"Ya know what? Forget this." Spot stuffed his backpack with his magazine, rose to his feet, and slung the bag over his shoulders. "If you wanna sit with the damn girl, go ahead. I could care less."
Nicollet bit her bottom lip as she felt the burden of what was happening. She hadn't really wanted Spot to move; it was merely a way of proving that she was just as strong as he. She couldn't simply sit there and have Matt shooed away for it'd make her look as if she wanted to stay near Spot, which was an image she couldn't yet uphold. "Well, Matt, you still need to get it approved by Mr. Rogers."
Her eyes met with Spot's for the briefest moment, and then they looked away from each other, embarrassed. Matt Bradshaw, however, had no idea what was passing between the two, and so when their history teacher finally returned to the class, he raised the matter of the seating arrangement almost immediately, and Mr. Rogers obliged him. Spot was assigned a new seat towards the back of the classroom next to infamous slacker Heath Soto, who was occupying himself with building a pyramid with empty cigarette boxes, and slouched into the empty chair almost miserably.
Nicollet looked back at him as if to say sorry but Spot only glowered back.
~*~*~*~*~
Jack, Emma, Snitch, and Blink looked on amused as Spot tried to handle his present fight with the utmost urbanity.
"Sure, laugh it up," Spot raised his voice at them, not seeing how they could find humor in his hard luck. He turned back to the vending machine and rested his forehead against the hard plastic structured between him and the bag of Doritos he had wasted three quarters to. His eyes fell onto the clamp holding the bag which had only turned to the right ever so slightly, thus keeping the Doritos from falling to the below dispenser, and let out an agitated growl.
In a sudden bout of anger, he brought back a clenched fist and began taking blows at the machine, but when that proved unsuccessful, he resulted to kicking the confounded thing, and then throwing his body against the machine. Yet all attempts proved to no avail. Letting a chain of obscenities flow from his mouth, he kicked once more and then crossed his arms discouraged. When he turned away from the machine, those who had been staring at him from the tables where they sat instantly looked away and continued their conversations.
Blink stepped forward with a mischievous grin on his face. "Does this have anything to do with Desiree having dumped you this morning?" Spot gave him a look as if to warn against pressing the matter any further.
Jack, however, didn't notice. "Whoa, Desiree broke up with you?" He let out a light laugh. "What's with you and not being able to keep a girl for more than a few days? Did you try to get more than she wanted to give?"
"I don't know," said Spot, but something in the way he had answered made them aware of his intentions to simply keep his business to himself, as far as relationships went.
"Maybe it has something to do with Nikki getting your ass moved away from her in history then?" Snitch asked slyly. He didn't have the class the same period as Nicollet or Spot, but when he had come to turn in an essay, he had noticed the difference in seating arrangement.
Spot glared at him. "Nah, it doesn't have anything to do with that. I wanted to move, she just gave me the perfect opportunity to."
"Sure she did," the other replied.
"Ya know, I don't know where you all get off telling me why the hell I feel the way I do. You don't know anything, okay? So stop making up crap about how it's all about Nikki. It's not. Get that through your heads."
The others submitted to silence, not wanting to birth an uncontrollable temper outbreak. Emma was the first to speak after a few moments. She smiled warmly at Spot and her words were soothing and at once calm. Spot never noticed how peaceful her voice was until now.
"Merryll, I don't know about the others, but when I first met you and Nikki, I thought you both made the cutest couple. True, you were always arguing with her, but some couples start off like that. Specs and I even did. We'd always compete against each other in class and try to be better than the other. But then we realized how much better things would be if we worked together...and no sooner did we do that, then we realized how much we needed each other."
Study hall's dismissal bell rang then, but the majority of the student body remained where they were seated, destined to not even think about moving until a dean came their way and shooed them off. Emma gathered her books from a nearby table and holding them in one arm, faced Spot again. "You have to look pass the fighting, Merryll, and figure out why it is you're always against each other. I doubt it has anything to do with hatred. Maybe it's competition, maybe it's just best friends bickering. Maybe it's even what you're afraid it is."
Spot arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly would that be?"
"Well, maybe it's just you two hiding the fact that you really want to be together."
~*~*~*~*~
Nicollet walked the length of her driveway where on either side were two long rectangular tables upon which laid various items for sale. Collectible dolls her mother use to collect, books, old clothes, jewelry, tools, and more of the like. Seeing an unpriced item, she brought blank labels from her pocket and scribbled '$1' onto one circular sticker before affixing it onto the object.
"Mom!" she called out into the open garage. "Can you bring me out a glass of orange juice?" Saturday mornings were better begun when started off with a cool drink to replenish the body. Nicollet absolutely loved orange juice; right after pink lemonade, she thought it the best drink in the world.
"Sure honey!" a voice replied from inside the house.
Nicollet reclined into a beach chair she had set up under the shade of her house's roof and watched an old couple go through her book collection while a young boy threw around toys cast aside in a box for something that appealed to him.
A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the tree on her front lawn and she closed her eyes to rest in the relaxation it gave her. Last week's garage sale had reeled in loads of money and proved to be a success. She hoped the same would hold true today. Thinking so, her mind escaped to happier days, better times in which she knew peace and comfort. When she reopened her eyes, they fell upon something for sale she hadn't noticed before. A raggedy old baseball glove with her initials written onto the palm.
She smiled. Spot had given it to her for her twelfth birthday-the year when making the school's softball team was her evolving obsession. Spot had trained with her for the three months summer allotted them, spending several hours a day with the girl even when his soccer friends beckoned him to ditch Nicollet and join them for a few laughs. He stayed with her throughout it all, and she couldn't thank him enough when the try- outs were over and the list of that season's team members posted; she had made the cut, and all because of Spot's devotion.
"What's changed in him?" she asked herself aloud. "Now he's devoted to the entire female population!"
The old couple approached her with three dollars in their hands, the total sum for the triad of books they wanted to purchase. Nicollet took the money with a smile and wished them a good day. As they left, more customers came to browse, one being Spot Conlon himself.
All week long, Spot had thought upon Emma's words. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out the reason behind his arguments with Nicollet. At first, they'd seem to be fueled by real purpose, with concrete reasoning and complaints that could withstand anything. But were such things only excuses? Were he and the girl only trying to magnify matters into things they were never meant to be? He wasn't quite sure. Fight after fight, it certainly seemed as if he and Nicollet were simply meant to be the type of best friends that bark at each other for the rest of their lives, but after Emma had spoken to him, he was beginning to question Nicollet's real motives, and those of his own.
And so, momentarily retiring his pride, he had decided to meet up with her once and for all and talk everything out thoroughly. It was hard to do at first, but he no longer anchored resentment towards her and it was making more and more sense as the hours passed to finally make a truce.
Nicollet pursed her lips as Spot neared her. Half of her went into a flustered frenzy, complete with speeding heart and a feeling of great panic, but the other half stayed on guard, unwilling to be hurt once again by the boy. Had he come to apologize, or had he come looking for trouble?
"What do you want?" she asked.
He pulled up a chair beside her and sat onto it. "I saw your 'Garage Sale' signs at the intersection and thought I'd stop by."
"Go away, Merryll." She turned in her seat so that her back was to him.
Spot's lips formed a straight line as his temper level rose. Why was she being so difficult? Here he was trying to make things better and all she could say was 'Go Away'? He would've left right then and there, but then he noticed a boy fitting his small hand into an all too familiar baseball glove. He spoke out in protest. "Hey! That's Ruthie!" (He and Nicollet hand an unusual ritual of naming inanimate objects back in the day)
She glanced at the boy holding out fifty cents-the total the glove was priced for. Somehow, the coins didn't look as alluring as the other money earned had. Their silver luster dulled in her sight; perhaps the glove's memories stole their glory. "Yea, and I don't want her anymore."
"Nikki, that cost me a month's allowance!"
She reluctantly held out her hand to receive the two quarters but Spot snatched her arm away. She gave him an incredulous look. "What's your problem? Why do you care so much?"
"Because...because, it was..."
"Special? Is that it? That it stood for our friendship? In case you haven't noticed, that friendship kinda doesn't stand anymore!"
The boy with the glove groaned in impatience. "Excuse me, can I buy this already?"
"Shut up!" Spot snapped at him. "Nikki, why are you acting like this, like you hate me?"
"Because you ruined what we had!"
Spot ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I ruined it? Damnit, what are you talking about!? You were the one who said you didn't want to hook up!"
She reached for the boy's two quarters again but Spot pulled her back. She shook his grip off her and wondered as to how he could manage acting like this, as if he hadn't a clue what she was talking about! "And you're the one who stuck your tongue down Amanda Riley's throat the day I thought you were going to ask me out!"
"W-what?" His eyes widened at the statement. "You, you saw that?"
"Of course I saw it! Don't act like you didn't know!"
"Are you going to take my fifty cents or what!" exclaimed the boy with the glove.
"Shut up!" Nikki yelled at him. She felt uncomfortable suddenly, as if she were a claustrophobic trapped in strange confines. She arose and walked to the front exterior of her house with her arms wrapped about her.
Spot followed behind worriedly. "I was breaking up with her, Nikki. I was breaking up with her and the little bitch acted like a brat and kissed me. I tried to push her away but she was acting all crazy. But I guess that's one thing you didn't see, huh?"
She knew the question had a bitter tone to it, but perhaps she deserved it. Still, was he speaking the truth? "You pushed her away?"
"Yea! I mean, I'm sorry and all that you thought I was cheating on you, but I thought you knew me better than that. I'd never do something like that to you."
A tear fell from her eye when something dawned on her. "You were talking about our kiss that day, not the one Amanda gave you..." She buried her face in her hands, humiliated. Why had she assumed as much? "I'm such an idiot! I thought..."
He took her hands down and leaned his forehead onto hers as he gazed into her tear-filled eyes. "Don't worry about it. It's okay now."
"What about all your kisses with Desiree?"
"What about all yours with Matt?"
She lowered her head and smiled down at her feet. So he had been checking up on her after all. She had to admit, it did make her feel better in an unusual way, to know he had had just as difficult a time as she. Spot placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face so that their eyes were level again.
"Can I buy this stupid glove!?!?"
"Shut Up!!" Spot and Nicollet had said it in unison this time. The boy rolled his eyes, threw the glove to the ground, and stormed off slightly agitated. The couple laughed.
"So," Spot said, as he brushed loose strands of hair behind Nicollet's ear, "does this mean we're starting over?"
She answered him with a heated lip-lock that injected a chain reaction of sparks throughout his body. Feeling her against his body like that, his arms encircled around her frame, was complete to him. Like it was meant to be. He hungrily kissed her back, cupping her face in his hands and trying to further his expeditions of her mouth.
"Nicollet Jamie Cordelli!"
The teenagers pulled away from the kiss instantly and turned to see Nicollet's mother standing aside them holding a glass of orange juice and wearing a surprised look. Though she appeared ready to scold them, her next words contradicted her parenting position. "If you're going to make out with Merryll, do it on your own time! We're running a business here, now get to work!" She handed her daughter the glass of juice, flashed a smile at the couple, and retreated back into the house.
"Thanks, Mrs. Cordelli," Spot called after the woman. Lacing his fingers with Nicollet's, he smirked and pulled the girl closer to him. "Sorry, girly, but it looks like you're going to have to wait until later for me to sweep ya off your feet."
She rolled her eyes but gave him one last kiss nonetheless. "Don't try too hard," she whispered into his ear. "I fell for you a long time ago."
~*~*~*~*~
More to Come. Review! ^_^
