One of the things I kinda liked most about the show, especially in the heart of last season, was that we were never truly 100% sure where the characters were coming from until they literally told us on screen. I've tried to sort of mimic that in my scripts/stories. However, it seems obvious that (at least in the 'story' format) it's probably going to go down a little smoother if we get in their heads a bit. So they'll be a little bit more of that this time around, and going forward. I've also tried to slip a little more humor in there this time. But that, of course, is subjective. Thanks to all who take the time to read, and especially those who review/follow, etc. So very, very cool of you all.
Nick had unsuccessfully tried for several hours to get some sleep. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, doing the math. He figured that it had been a little over six weeks since he had gone to bed without Jess by his side. He considered that as he looked out his window and noticed the sun had already begun it's descent. In a little over an hour, he was going to have to go in for his Saturday shift at the bar. Back to the scene of the crime, he thought. He rubbed his eyes and stood up, deciding that the sleep he was looking for simply wasn't coming. He walked over to his writing desk and picked up a grey towel that had been hanging off the back of the chair and threw it over his shoulder. As he did so, a soft knock came at the door. He looked at the door, expectantly, not really knowing who he wanted it to be on the other side. As he slowly cracked it open, he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to find Schmidt standing on the other side.
"Hey, man," Schmidt said. Just wanted to let you know it's safe to come out."
"Schmidt, what are you…"
"Coast is clear. Jess took off a few minutes ago."
Nick exhaled slowly, again, both relieved and a little disappointed.
"Do you… do know where she went?"
"Well, she didn't say," Schmidt replied, as a slightly embarrassed look passed over his face. "So I'm guessing she went to see Cece."
"Makes sense."
Nick stepped out of his room and started moving towards the kitchen, Schmidt on his heels.
"So, how you doing with this whole… thing."
"Fine, Schmidt. I'm an adult. I'm fine."
"Really? Because you don't really seem fine."
"I don't seem fine? Well, what do I seem, Schmidt?"
"Well, I would have to say you seem decidedly not fine. Un-fine. You look… you look like you need a hug. I'm going to give you a hug."
"Schmidt, don't…," Nick started, but it was too late. Schmidt was in, tightly enveloping him. Too tired to fight, Nick just went limp, and waited for it to pass.
Schmidt finally released him, stepped back, and smiled proudly.
"See, now don't you feel better?"
"Would you believe me if I said 'no'?"
Winston's voice came from the hallway, surprising both of them.
"Whoa, whoa. Don't mean to interrupt anything, but…"
"Very funny," Nick said, wiping his face with his towel.
"So. You manage to get any shut eye?" Winston asked, joining them in the kitchen.
"No. Not really. But it won't be the first time I've gone into work on zero sleep. Customers love it, too. I get a little loose with my pours. Everyone goes home happy."
"Nice to see you're thinking positively," Schmidt said. "What's our plan, Winston? Couple of single fellows on a Saturday night."
"Well, I was just going order in some Chinese and catch up on Downton Abby. You know, just chill with the cat. But if you guys are up for something, I'm game."
"Well, I have to work…," Nick started.
"Good one, pal," Schmidt interrupted. "Winston, let's do it. Back in the saddle. Nick, we'll be there with bells on."
Nick sighed and shuffled off towards the shower.
"Can't wait," he muttered.
Cece opened the door to her apartment to find a frazzled Jess standing before her, dressed in green and white polka dotted pajamas and her violet pea coat, her oversized glasses hanging from her nose.
"Jess, you look… like you haven't slept in days."
"That's because I haven't slept in days. Is it alright if I come in and die for a little while?" she asked, sliding past Cece and making her way to the couch.
Cece closed the door and followed. Jess took off her coat and dropped it to the floor, shook off her slippers, and fell face first into the couch. Cece gathered her coat, hung it over a nearby chair and kicked the slippers under the coffee table.
"So. Seems safe to assume that Nick took things about as well as one would imagine Nick to take things?"
"I don't get it, Cece," Jess mumbled into the couch. "I didn't do anything wrong."
Cece walked over to the couch and sat at Jess' feet.
"First of all, I'm going to need you to take your face out of the couch. For one thing, I can't hear you. For another, this is where Nadia likes to 'entertain' her… you know… gentleman guests. And I use the word 'gentlemen', very, very loosely… no pun intended."
Jess slowly raised her head from the couch and sat up, holding a nauseous expression on her face.
"Why is he being like this, Cece? Things were going so, so good."
Cece looked sadly at her friend, thinking of something to say. She reached her arm around Jess and pulled her in for a half hug. Jess rested her head on Cece's shoulder and shut her eyes. They sat for a few moments, and Jess felt less on edge than she had in hours. Cece wondered if she'd fallen asleep until Jess broke the silence.
"What am I gonna do? How can I fix this when I didn't even do anything wrong?"
"I don't know what to tell you, Jess. It's those boys from 4-D. They are a whole different class of idiot."
Jess stifled a chuckle before raising her head from Cece's shoulder and looking at her friend.
"I'm sorry, I just come in here with my problems and you… How are you doing?"
"Jess, please. I welcome the opportunity to focus on someone else's problems for a bit. I just wish they weren't yours."
"I wish I could understand him. Why is he so upset?"
"Well… that guy last night was all kinds of handsome, Jess. Tall, rich, well dressed. Handsome. Suave, intelligent… handsome."
"You said handsome already."
"It bears repeating," Cece replied. Jess just shrugged as Cece squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. "Are you saying… you didn't think that guy was attractive?"
"Yeah, I guess, he was fine. That's not the…"
"Jess, that man was not 'fine'. I am a model. I work with male models daily. That guy was… how do I put this… glorious. Beautiful. Like, I'm not really convinced if he was real or some figment of my imagination."
"Well, I wish he would've just kissed you, then."
"That makes two of us. You really didn't think he was anything special?"
"Yeah, he was cute. So?"
"I'm telling you, he was more than 'cute', Jess."
"Fine, but what does that…"
"What does that matter? To a guy like Nick? Please. I'm no amateur psychologist, but that boy has some serious self-esteem issues. Bordering on self-sabotage."
Jess sighed heavily and slumped back into the couch. She brought here knees up to her chest and hugged them. She sullenly looked down, tears of exhaustion building at the edges of her eyes.
"I don't get it, Cece. Why can't he just trust me? "
"I don't have the answer, Jess. But… do you remember the last time you showed up at my doorstep, ranting and raving about being kissed by someone… unexpected?"
"That was different, Cece! That was…"
Cece raised her eyebrows high, waiting for Jess to finish her thought. But Jess just shook her head and repeated herself.
"That was just… different."
Cece frowned and looked at her friend, traces of disappointment on her face. After a moment, she smiled and stood up.
"Look, the girls are working tonight. Some up and coming indie band, so they're shooting at some club and will be home late. We have the place to ourselves. I don't suppose you've eaten in the last 24 hours?"
"Not really."
"Okay, then. You get a little shut eye, and in a bit, I'll go pick us up some food. Sound good?"
Jess grabbed a throw pillow from the end of the couch and tossed it down. She stretched her small frame out across the couch and laid her head on the pillow.
"I guess I could try to nap for a bit. Really don't feel like being home right now. Not sure I'll be getting any sleep, though."
Cece went to the kitchen and poured Jess a glass of water. By the time she got back to the couch, Jess was already asleep. Cece placed the glass on the coffee table and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, and placed it over her friend.
Nick ran a towel over the bar and slapped two Heislers down in front of Schmidt and Winston. He then reached under the bar and quickly snuck a sip from his own beer before tucking it back in its' hiding spot. He glanced around the bar, noting that it was pretty quiet for a Saturday night. And that stood in contrast to the less than quiet Friday night he had experienced less than 24 hours ago. He looked over toward the booth where it happened. Tonight, it was occupied by a pair of middle aged women, catching over white wine spritzers. Last night, it had been occupied by that tall handsome stranger that had taken it upon himself to ruin Nick's life. He couldn't get the image out of his head. All he could see was that freaking Adonis with his face pressed against Jess'. Nick tried to replay the incident in his head, as painful as it was, focusing on the aftermath. As he had approached the table, Jess has quickly slipped out of the booth and stood up, a stunned and sad look in her blue eyes, eyes that immediately met Nick's gaze. What he couldn't remember was which came first: Jess bailing on the kiss, or Jess seeing Nick arrive. What he couldn't remember was….
"Where are all the women tonight? It's time for Schmitty to get back in the game," Schmidt said.
Nick rubbed his forehead, and gladly let his train of thought drift off the tracks. He stole another sip from his beer before answering Schmidt.
"I dunno, man. Just one of those nights, I guess."
"Well, this just will not do," Schmidt said. "Right Winston? Two single, eligible men in the primes of their lives, and here we are, rotting away like discarded… apple cores."
"That's damn poetic, Schmidt," Winston said. "I thought Nick was the writer."
Nick shook his head and grabbed a fresh towel from under the bar, throwing in over his red flannel clad shoulder. A young man approached the far side of the bar, and he went over to tend to him, leaving Schmidt and Winston to themselves. Winston slaps Schmidt in the arm.
"Hey, we're here for Nick, man. We gotta make sure he's in an okay place, remember? Make sure he doesn't start thinking too much."
"You're right, you're right. Last thing we need if for him to overthink this whole mess. I mean, this is Jess, right?"
"Yeah, and there's no way she meant anything by that kiss. I take her at her word, 100%. No way she's the cheating… type…"
Winston didn't catch his words in time. He lowered his eyes, took a sip from his beer, and tried to act like he hadn't noticed the look of shame that crossed Schmidt's face. They were both relieved when Nick returned with a scowl on his face.
"I don't know what's gotten into these college guys, man. In our day, it was simple: cheapest beer on the menu, and maybe a shot of Old Crow. These kids today and their microbrews and girly shots…," he paused as he noticed the awkwardness in the air. "What's… what's going on guys?"
Just as got the words out, Nick's phone went off in his pants pocket. He pulled it out, and frowned when he looked at the display. He looked to Schmidt and Winston.
"It's my mom. I gotta…"
Nick answered the phone and walked toward the quieter end of the bar. Winston and Schmidt looked at each other, then back at Nick. They couldn't hear what he was saying, but as he spoke, he furrowed his brow in confusion. He didn't do much talking. After a few moments, he nodded his head, said goodbye, and clicked his phone closed. He walked back towards Winston and Schmidt.
"That was weird."
"Everything alright?" Winston asked.
"Yeah, yeah. Nothing bad or anything like that, it's just..."
Nick's eyes got wide as he tailed off. He looked at Schmidt, trying to warn him with his eyes. Curious, Schmidt and Winston turned to see what had alarmed Nick so much. Schmidt about knocked his beer off the bar when he laid his eyes on Cece, in jeans and a baggy red sweater, marching right towards him, with purpose.
"Okay. We need to talk," she said firmly as she neared the bar.
"Cece, I…," Schmidt began, completely unprepared.
"Not you," Cece said, not bothering to look at Schmidt. She reached across the bar and poked Nick in the chest, hard. "I need to talk to you. Now."