Nick
Most people would do the whole mingle with the other authors, booze it up, maybe get a bit frisky. But he just wants to get the hell out of there. The whiskey is sitting like a brick in his stomach and he's well into the early stages of dehydration. Boozing along with the amount he's been sweating is not an ideal combination.
A blast of cool air hits his face as he stumbles out of the rotating doors of the Grand Hyatt.
His first irrational thought is Jess is gonna be cold.
Oh Jeezus. He can't escape her….Literally. She's doggedly following him, no doubt hunting for an explanation.
"Nick! Stop!"
Right or left. He turns his head in both directions. The first goal is escape. The second is hide, preferably in a windowless basement dive that smells like stagnant dish rags and wood marinated in cheap beer and whiskey.
He takes off to the left, apologizing to a man whose shoulder he bumps in his haste. There were so many goddamn people! Don't they have jobs?! Shouldn't they be….somewhere else…preferably somewhere not in his way! Disgruntled and scrambling for a destination, Nick turns down a side street with much fewer people and lights
"Nick!" She's out of breath and doing a sort of strange shuffle-run in her heels. "We have to talk about this!"
"No, we don't," he calls over his shoulder, continuing down the dark road.
"Nick Miller, you coward."
That stops him dead. That word. It's like a knife to the gut and seems to ring in his ears bringing a tidal wave of bad memories and resentment to the surface and suddenly he's very very angry. What the hell does she know of cowardice? Of running away. He spins swiftly and in 4 long strides is right in her face.
"What do you want from me?!" He shouts, startling her into dropping her purse, he hears the thud of the Edgar award hitting the pavement hard. She ignores it in favor of fighting fire with fire.
"The truth!" She shouts back.
"The truth? Why is the truth so goddamn important to you?"
"Because! Maybe it'll help you!"
"I don't need help! Not yours, or Tran's or anyone else's!" They have got to be disturbing the residents on this street. They're literally screaming into each other's faces. His face is hot and the adrenaline is rushing through his veins. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, hands curled into fists at her sides. Good. Maybe she'll punch him out, he'd take that sweet relief over anything right now.
"Well I'm gonna help! I'm gonna help the crap out of you!" She's getting angrier, a red flush creeping up her neck. "Just tell me. Are you writing Pepperwood?"
His nose scrunches up and his lips press into a sneer. "Fine! Here's the truth…"
Jess sucks in a breath and he searches her face, not sure what he's looking for. They stand there suspended in time. It's on the tip of his tongue, all the secrets he holds ready to come tumbling out because of one blue eyed girl.
"Ahh, I think I'm having a heart attack," he groans as he presses a hand against his chest before loosening his tie. All the anger draining out of him so quickly he has to bend over to contain the spinning sensation. He can't do it. He's going to continue running. Coward.
The sidewalk is suddenly cut off from sight as the bottom of her dress comes into view. Cold fingers cup the sides of his face, raising him up to look her in the eye.
The empathy seems to be pouring out of her and he can only bare to stare back at her for a few seconds before closing his eyes, dizzy from either the alcohol or her proximity, he's not sure which.
"Nick Miller. You're not alone in this anymore," her voice is so gentle and compelling, washing over him in calming waves and he releases a long, heavy breath. "You have to make a decision. 'Am I gonna keep running for the rest of my life, or am I gonna finally put my trust in someone else?' It's up to you." She has no idea how much her words are hitting home. He's afraid he's going to start trembling so he balls his hands into fists, locking his body in place to avoid it.
"Ok?" She whispers. He opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is her lips. Full, red and so inviting. His eyes dart to hers and then back down to her lips before dropping further to stare at his loosened tie.
"Nick?"
He nods in her hands. She releases his face but doesn't remove her hands completely, sliding them over his shoulders, then down his arms to grasp his hands. He's thankful for it and isn't ashamed to admit he needs this connection; her touch is grounding him, keeping his feet from carrying him away from the truth. Licking his lips he looks at Jess who has a small tentative smile on her face.
Releasing a shaky laugh he shakes his head then lifts it to take in their surroundings. Bright lights blink behind Jess from the busy streets he tried to escape. There are a few people walking down the other side of the street and he hears a car sound its horn behind him.
"I can't do this here. Feel like there's voyeurs all around us. Those curtains have been fluttering this whole time," He points to a window above them on the right, three fingers still clutching hers. "Definitely someone listening in."
"…the window's open and there's a breeze."
"Just trust me, would ya?"
Jess blows out an exasperated breath and then a look of contemplation crosses her face before seemingly coming to a solution. That was quick.
"Come on," pulling at his fingers, she bends to pick up her purse, holding it against her stomach to extract her phone one-handed (he can't seem to give back her other hand) and quickly taps out something on her phone, dress fluttering around her thighs as she moves, dragging him behind her.
"You better be yanking me in the direction of a booze-filled paradise, otherwise I'm throwing myself in front of a cab…"
She doesn't bother responding to his melodramatic threat, just continues to pull him along.
As they emerge back onto the crowded and noisy streets, her much smaller hand clutching at four of his fingers, the only thing he thinks is that he should have kissed her back there.
