A/N: I'm starting to repeat myself. Sorry about that.
See if you can spot the Wedding Singer reference.
I think this is going to be the last chapter with this format. It's starting to get difficult to write. This isn't the last chapter of the story by any means. I still have, like, ten things to go through. I just thought I'd try something different for the next few chapters and see how that works. That's why it took so long to get this chapter written.
Many thanks to Cazzie for beta-ing this chapter for me!
Chapter 4: Nice
"A person who is nice to you but rude to the waiter is not a nice person."
- Dave Barry
Lindsay Monroe's Perfect Guy:
4. He must be nice.
Colt was nice. Or at least, she thought he was nice – at the time. He did all the things a proper country boy should do. He opened doors for her. He pulled out her chair for her. He stood up when she did. One time he even took off his jacket and laid it over a puddle so that she wouldn't get her shoes wet.
Whenever she had a bad day, he would shove a note – a little doodle or silly joke – through the slats of her locker so that it fell out whenever she opened it. He always brought her flowers when he picked her up for their dates; even if they were just the wildflowers that grew at the edge of her family's property, it was still the thought that counted. On days when she was home sick from school, he would call her and tell her to get better, that he missed the sound of her voice and wouldn't be able to go to sleep without hearing it.
He was an absolute sweetheart to her and an absolute prick to anyone outside of their little circle of friends. He tripped freshmen in the hallways and always used the same lame joke – "Have a nice trip? See you next fall!" He spread rumors about some of the girls in their class that followed those poor souls all the way through to graduation.
At lunch, he would mimic the more intelligent students in their year answering questions in math or science. He called people nasty names behind their backs. He sometimes called people nasty names to their faces. He knocked people's books out of their hands as they walked by. He rolled his eyes and completely ignored whenever someone from a different clique said hello to him.
And it certainly wasn't nice of him to toy with her heart the way he did. To lead her on, only to rip the rug out from under her just as she was convinced she had fallen in love with him. She cried and swore revenge, and she decided that the only way to deal with a bully was to be a bully. She hated it, because she was not a mean person, but no one messed with Lindsay Monroe.
Dexter had never been nice. Even the first day she met him, he'd been a complete and total jackass. But for some reason, that intrigued her. She was convinced that she could change him.
She overlooked the fact that he never brought her flowers when he picked her up for a date, because half of the time he didn't show up for their dates, and when he did he was almost always late. She just reasoned that he wasn't the type of guy who went for typical romantic gestures. She overlooked the fact that he insulted her in front of her friends – called her "stupid" or "fat". She knew that he said those things to everyone, and why should she be any different just because she was his girlfriend? When she had a bad day, he would interrupt her cathartic rants to tell her how much worse his day had been, and that she shouldn't complain because she had it much easier than he did.
He only had one helmet for his motorcycle, and he always wore it. He never walked her to her door after dates, even though she lived in the dodgy part of town. He always spoke in the same condescending tone, as though he couldn't believe how stupid she was. He acted like he was better than everyone else – including his professors. He stole money out of her purse when he thought she wasn't looking. He never tipped their waiters or bartenders. When she missed classes because she was sick, he avoided her and told her not to get him sick, too. On nights when she had to go to bed early because she had an exam the next day, he would call her at two in the morning, piss-ass drunk, and ask for a ride home from the bar.
And it certainly wasn't nice of him to treat her like property. To toss her aside as though she were nothing, and not a living, breathing human being with thoughts and feelings that were just as valid as his own. She cried and swore revenge, and she decided that he was a jerk and was never going to change. All it took was one mistake, and Lindsay moved on. She didn't have to be told twice.
Martin had been nice – to a point. He did the same chivalrous things that Colt had done. He opened doors for her. He helped her out of the car. He brought her flowers or chocolates every time he picked her up for a date, and he was always on time. In fact, he was usually early. He actually listened to her when she talked. Whenever he got up to get something, he always asked if there was anything she needed while he was up. On days when she was off sick, he would bring her soup in bed. When it rained and they only had one umbrella, he always held it so that she was more protected from the rain than he was. They both always ended up drenched, but it was the thought that counted.
He corrected her all the time. He acted like her superior, even though he technically wasn't. He chastised her in public if she wanted to show her affection – even if it was as simple as running her fingers through his hair. On nights that he stayed at her place, he never let her watch the television shows that she usually watched. They took a trip to the Grand Canyon, and he didn't let her have the window seat on the plane, even though she'd never been there before. He was always rude to the salespeople. He wasn't mean to her in that he raised his voice or struck her – he would never do those things – but the little inconsiderate details began to add up after a while.
She felt like the ogre when she rejected his proposal. But could she honestly be with a man who always stole the last slice of pizza? Who switched the radio station right in the middle of her favorite song? Who berated her overly conventional choice of Halloween costume? She was sorry for the way things ended with Martin, but she wasn't sorry that she ended things.
Danny was obnoxious. He played a prank on her on her first day at the New York crime lab, which made her look like a complete fool in front of Mac. He never called her by her first name, but insisted on referring to her by her home state. He treated everything like a competition.
He teased her about her country upbringing. But everything he did, he did with a genuine smile, and she knew that there was no malice behind his jokes, no condescension in his voice when he teased her. He was trying to get her riled up, true, but he was also trying to get her to smile. After a while, it was easier to smile around him. His smile – in addition to turning her insides to jelly – was contagious. She couldn't help but be in a good mood around him.
He held the door open for her, but she sensed that he didn't do it out of obligation. He did it to be polite – or because it made sense, in that he was closer to the door. He let her pick the radio stations whenever they went to a scene, and he never switched away in the middle of her favorite songs. He'd chuckle and shake his head as she sang along with the lyrics. On the rare days she was off sick, he would call her and give her a detailed recap of what had happened that day, including his thoughts on why Hawkes needed a girlfriend. He let her run with her ideas, and he never took credit for them. He always gave her credit.
He was never rude to the salespeople. He always tipped their bartenders. He bought her drinks almost every time they went out to the bar, and he never expected anything in return – at least, he never said anything about it. He brought her coffee in the morning, and he knew exactly the way she liked it. If he was going to order takeout because a case required overtime, he asked her if she wanted anything. He offered to walk her home on nights they worked late, so she wouldn't be walking the dark streets alone. Her six-month anniversary at the lab, he bought her a New York City guidebook; she already had one, but it was the thought that counted.
But the thing that struck her most happened when one of the people in the coroner's office retired. There was a big party, and everyone in the NYPD was invited. Lindsay was out on assignment when it started, and by the time she managed to get to the party, the cake was all gone. She dejectedly walked over to the drink table to pour herself a soda when Danny appeared at her elbow. He was hiding something under his jacket.
"Here, Montana," he said, pulling a plate out from under the lapel. "I saved you the last piece of cake."
Damn it.