Hi friends! It's been a loooooooong time since I've posted anything on here, but I just finished a re-watch of New Girl and couldn't get this idea out of my head. It turned out to be a little more angsty than what I like to write, but I hope you enjoy regardless!
Nick's leg is bouncing steadily, sitting in the lobby of his potential publisher, uncomfortable in the scratchy navy blazer that Schmidt insisted he wear.
"Nick, you're making me nervous," Schmidt utters curtly next to him. "Stop fidgeting."
Grunting, Nick forces his leg to stop bouncing and reaches for the cell phone in his pocket. He gazes at the black screen, not seeing any missed texts or phone calls.
"Why hasn't Jess called me back?" he asks loudly, unsure if it's a real question or just a rhetorical one.
Schmidt turns to look at Nick, shaking his head at him, and sighs deeply.
"Nick," he starts, his voice wavering, "there are things…I want to tell you. But I can't."
Nick turns to face him, his eyes squinting in confusion. "What kind of things?"
"Things. Things…that I'm not at liberty to discuss."
"About Jess not calling me back?"
Schmidt goes to speak, then cautiously looks away from his gaze, leaning back on the couch. "Just…forget I said anything."
Nick watches him closely, eyeing him skeptically. "What's with you this morning? First, you yell at me about wearing shorts. Now you're saying you want to tell me something, but for some reason, you can't."
Schmidt leans forward and puts a hand on Nick's back. "You know I love you man, right?"
"Ok, now you're really creeping me out," Nick retorts, wiggling out of his touch and looking around in a panic. "And stop saying that in public!"
Schmidt huffs in frustration. "Why? You should be honored if people hear me and think that we're in a relationship. I'm a 10 on the Richter scale."
"We are not in a relationship," he replies slowly through gritted teeth. "And isn't the Richter scale for earthquakes?"
Schmidt just offers a sly smile and nods his head. "You know it."
Nick visibly shudders at his words, then turns away, his leg bouncing again.
"Look," Schmidt starts, more seriously, "Jess clearly is going through something, so just give her some time."
Unconvinced, Nick shakes his head. "She's been in Portland for weeks though."
"Nicholas, look around," Schmidt says, waving his hands in front of him. "You're currently sitting in an editor's office about to talk about publishing your book. Something, quite frankly, none of us ever believed was possible, given your inability to string words together into a coherent sentence."
"What? Is this supposed to be a pep talk?"
"But yet," Schmidt continues, ignoring him, "you're out here kvetching about something completely unrelated and frankly, out of your control. So, I say, focus on the positive! Seize the day! YOLO!"
Nick appears uncertain, still irritated about the whole situation with Jess, as Schmidt adds,
"And look! Someone is wearing shorts over there."
Schmidt points towards another couch on the opposite side of the room.
Nick follows his gaze and scrunches up his face. "I don't see anyone in shorts."
"My point exactly!" Schmidt yells at him with a huff.
Thankfully, at that moment, Merle Streep comes out to meet them both, shaking their hands and leading Nick back to his office.
They talk for several hours about the Pepperwood series, with Merle making a number of ridiculous suggestions that Nick argues with him about, and then Merle brings him a copy of the contract for him to sign. It's a 3-book deal and Nick stares at the dollar amount in the agreement, the number higher than anything he could have imagined. He feels a mix of emotions, but mostly pride that he created something that actually was worthy of being published for the world to see.
To celebrate, Merle offers to take him out for drinks, even though it's mid-afternoon. He agrees and returns to the lobby to get Schmidt, only to find out that Schmidt left to go home. He sends him a quick text to let him know the meeting went well and then follows Merle to a bar he's suggested.
It's close to 11:00pm by the time Nick makes his way back to the loft. He and Merle had gone for drinks, which turned into an early dinner, which then turned into more drinks. He had called and texted Jess a few times during the night, still not having heard anything from her, but made the decision to follow Schmidt's advice and revel in the feeling of success for the night.
He's feeling loose and happy as he walks back into the loft, stumbling quickly to his room. He's not drunk per se – just nicely buzzed. The kind of buzzed that washes away any anxiety or frustration he had before the meeting.
He drops his phone on his desk, the screen still dark, and decides that he really needs to relieve his bladder. As he leaves his room to head towards the bathroom, out of the corner of his eye, he gazes over at Jess's room, seeing it completely dark. But as he starts to walk further down the hallway, the darkness gives him pause, sensing that something is wrong.
Cautiously, he strides back towards her doorway, peering inside. He immediately sees that her desk is missing. As he walks further in, he realizes that the entire room is empty, and all of her furniture is gone.
There's one lone lamp left in the room, which he turns on, and sees that her closet is also empty, devoid of all her colorful dresses and sweaters. The corner of the room where she had claimed for crafts, which normally has piles of yarn and her box of supplies, is gone. Even the vibrant rug, which gave the cold floors a sense of personality and warmth, is also absent.
He stands in the middle of the empty room, taking it all in, and lets out a deep breath that is full of sudden emotion. The room is hauntingly quiet, his footsteps echoing off the walls, his expression heavy and remorseful. Any sense of happiness or calmness he had felt moments before is now gone – and instead, there's a profound sense of sadness as he sucks in a hard breath, his heart in his throat.
He slowly walks towards the window, looking down and remembering the first time he had seen Jess at the front door, fumbling around and trying to get into the building.
He takes another look back at the empty room and becomes overcome with the need to understand. Understand what's happening, what triggered this, what he can do to fix this.
Quickly sobering up, he determinedly strides out of the empty room and back into the living room, seeing Winston and Aly on the couch watching TV.
"Oh, hey man, I didn't see you come in," Winston says upon his footsteps, lifting a beer to his mouth. "How was the meeting? Are they going to publish your book?"
Nick stands in front of them, deliberately blocking their view of the TV, and ignores Winston's question.
"What's going on?" His tone is harsh and angry.
Winston looks at him in confusion and says slowly, "We're…watching Law & Order…is this SVU?"
"I think it's Criminal Intent," Aly clarifies, sipping on her own beer.
"Not the TV," Nick says, his voice getting louder. "What is with Jess's empty room?"
Winston and Aly exchange a knowing glance, both straightening up slightly on the couch.
"Whhhhaaat do you mean?" Winston asks slowly, although it's perfectly clear he knows exactly what the question means.
Nick is clearly not amused by his response, crossing his arms. "Was Jess here?"
Again, Winston and Aly look uncomfortably at each other, appearing to have a silent conversation.
Winston sighs. "Look, man, Jess was here. She came back to LA just to clean out her room."
"When?"
"Earlier today," Winston replies tentatively, putting his beer down. "She packed everything up pretty fast."
"Is she…" Nick starts, pausing before adding, "moving out?"
Winston takes another deep breath. "I think so…but look, you need to talk to her."
"Why is she moving out?"
Aly sits up and puts her beer down too. "Nick, you need to talk to Jess. We did see her, we helped her move her stuff to storage, and then she flew back to Portland."
"You helped her move out?" he practically yells at them. "Why would you do that? And how come you didn't call me? I would've come back here."
Winston turns the TV off. "Listen, I know you're upset, but this is what Jess wants."
Nick puts his hands on both sides of his head, clearly frustrated and overwhelmed.
"What am I missing here?"
Winston stands up and walks over to him. "You need to talk to Jess."
"Jess won't talk to me," he replies, his voice rough and strained.
"I don't know what to tell you," Winston says, putting a hand on his back. "This isn't a conversation between us. It's between you two."
Nick shakes his head and lets out a loud screech, backing away from Winston. He stomps back to his bedroom, slamming the door. Once he's inside, he pulls out his phone and sends Schmidt a quick text.
That thing you wanted to tell me this morning – do you know why Jess moved out?
His heart is pounding in his chest as he waits for a reply, shrugging off the jacket that Schmidt had loaned him for his meeting. He throws it on his bed in a huff, but then looks at it for a moment, hearing Schmidt's voice in his head, and decides to hang it properly so it doesn't wrinkle.
As he's hanging the jacket, he hears his phone chirp with a reply.
Talk to Jess.
Angrily, he types back.
She won't talk to me. Do you know something?
He waits a few moments, seeing the bubbles to indicate Schmidt is typing, then stopping. Then he sees the bubbles again.
Call her. She needs to tell you.
He audibly groans at the response, feeling like Schmidt is both avoiding answering the question but also leading him down an impossible path. He scrolls through his phone to find Jess's phone number and pushes it to call her again.
Voicemail.
"Jess, it's me…again. Look, I'm home and…well, it looks like your stuff is gone. Did you move out? I don't want to freak out here but Winston said you were here and I…don't get it, Jess. Why are you moving out? What is going on? Please, I'm begging you, please call me back. I don't know if I messed up or said something I shouldn't have, but whatever it is, just…talk to me. Please. Call me back. Text me. Anything."
He goes to hang up and then adds,
"Oh, it's Nick by the way."
Then he hangs up.
He doesn't sleep at all, his mind replaying their last few conversations to find something he might've said that upset her. He knows he says a lot without thinking, but Jess doesn't usually mind that. She's not the type to get sensitive about an offhanded joke or awkward story. In fact, she usually likes those things.
He can't stop thinking about why she would just leave without saying goodbye. Even if he did something, he can't imagine a world in which she would just move out without talking to him. She clearly talked to Schmidt and Winston…and even Aly seemed like she knew what was going on. Why didn't she want to see him or talk to him?
She did appear to be a little…off…when he got back from New Orleans, but that seemed to dissipate in the months before Socalycon. He's still confused by what set her off while they were at Socalycon and why she rushed home to Portland without even talking to him. What made her rush home to Portland to take care of her dad without at least telling him? And why is she back there now?
He exhales and rolls onto his back, his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, thinking about Jess's empty room across the hall. He swallows the thickness in his throat as the reality begins to set in that she isn't going to be living there anymore. He won't be waking up to see her smiling face in the kitchen. He won't get to hear about the new slang she learned from the kids in her school. He won't get to watch her make lists of craft supplies for her weekly trip to the craft store, asking her about each item and questioning why she needs so many pipe cleaners. He won't get to watch her try to tie a perfect bow in her hair while she stands in the bathroom in the morning, always asking him if one side is bigger than the other.
He looks at the clock, seeing that it's almost 5am. He knows it's early but he's unable to keep lying in bed with so many thoughts churning in his head. He groans, then decides to get up. As he makes his way to the bathroom for a shower, he takes one more glance at Jess's empty room.
Gazing into the dark space, he's struck with an idea. It's a little crazy, but at this point, he's desperate for answers. And he knows there's only way to get them. One place to get them.
He nervously rings the doorbell, checking his watch and realizing it's close to 9:00pm already. He feels like he's been awake for days, between the multiple flights he tried to take on stand-by and the previous houses he had visited in an attempt to find the right one.
He hears shuffling inside and sees a light turn on. He clears his throat anxiously and steps back, waiting for the door to open.
He looks down for a moment and when he looks back up, Bob Day is looking at him.
"Oh, it's you. Nick, right?"
"Hi, Bob," he says quickly, offering a small wave.
"What do you want?" Bob crosses his arms and looks down at him sternly.
"I know it's late," Nick starts, "but…is Jess around?"
Bob lets out a loud sigh. "She doesn't want to see you."
Nick raises his eyebrows. "Well, I'm not leaving until I see her."
Bob shakes his head. "Let me give you some advice. Go home. Take some time to…reset."
"No can do, Bob," Nick states loudly. He crosses his arms and stands firmly in his spot at the edge of the front porch, not budging. He meets Bob's eyes and tries to relay that he's not going anywhere.
Bob watches him for a beat, seemingly thinking about something intently.
"I don't want my little girl to get hurt," Bob says quietly.
Nick's eyes narrow in confusion. "No one is here to hurt her."
Bob pauses for a moment, exhaling loudly, then drops his arm and turns around. "Jess! You have a visitor."
Nick offers him a small smile of gratitude, while he hears footsteps inside.
He suddenly hears the sound of Jess's voice. "A visitor…for me?"
And then she appears in the doorway before him. She's dressed in her pajamas with the poodles and her hair is up in a pony tail, glasses on her face.
The moment she sees him, her eyes grow wide.
"Nick! What are you doing here?"
He swallows hard before speaking. "I came to see you."
She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. She turns towards her dad, who's still standing beside her.
"You okay?" Bob asks her.
She offers him a small grin and a single nod. "Yeah."
"You call if you need anything. I'll be right upstairs."
At that, Bob shoots Nick a long glare, then turns to head back inside the house, leaving them alone. As she turns to look at him again, he notices that she appears to be nervous, biting her lip.
"How did you know…how did you find me?" she asks tentatively.
"Aly mentioned you went back to Portland. And I found your dad's address online."
His heart is pounding looking at her wide eyes and tense expression, so he continues talking. "Did you know there are 3 other Robert Days in Portland? I went to the other 2 addresses before I got here…one guy had a rainbow flag outside his house and the other guy lived in a trailer with his 6 kids. One girl kind of looked like you, but she was like 12."
She smiles tightly and nods slightly in understanding. She's standing up against the front door, seemingly putting as much distance between them as possible.
"Anyway, I'm sorry for just showing up here," he starts, his voice more serious, "but I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't return any of my calls or texts or voicemails."
She takes a deep breath and starts to speak, "Nick—"
"No, just…let me say what I need to say," he says to her, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts. "Yesterday, an editor told me he wants to publish my book. And I actually signed a book deal."
Her eyes immediately light up at his words. "Nick! That's amazing." She takes a small step forward towards him, rattling his composure a bit.
"It is. I'm freaking out but it's…good. So yeah, it was a big thing. And I really wanted to tell you, so I called you…like 8 times. But you never picked up. And you didn't return any of my voicemails."
She looks down at her feet, clearly feeling guilt at his admission.
He looks straight at her, waiting for her eyes to raise. His voice comes out rougher as he adds, "And then I went home. And your room was empty."
He watches as she tentatively looks up at him, her eyes glowing with remorse.
"So I called again. Left you another message. But nothing."
"Nick…"
"I asked Winston if he knew what was going on. And Aly. And then I asked Schmidt. And you know what, Jess? They all said the same thing. That I needed to talk to you. Except I couldn't talk to you. Because you wouldn't talk to me."
He waits a moment, shaking his head and looking down. "So, this morning, I just decided that I'd had enough. I went to LAX, got a ticket for Portland, and here I am…well, here I am, after trying to fly stand-by 3 times and going to the wrong Robert Day's house."
Quiet settles over them, as Jess says softly, "Nick, I'm sorry."
He looks back up at her, his eyes pleading with her. "Are you ok?"
She's shifting her weight back and forth as she nods. "I'm ok."
"You're not…sick or something?"
"No, Nick."
He takes a small step towards her. "Did I do something?"
"What?" she asks in confusion, shaking her head, backing up so she's against the door again. "No, you didn't do anything."
"Then why won't you tell me what's going on?" he asks more firmly.
She sighs deeply and looks up at the sky. "It's complicated, Nick."
"Is it? Because you talked to everyone except me."
"I know, I…I just…" she starts, appearing flustered, clearly wrestling with something.
"Jess," he says slowly, his voice surprisingly unyielding. "I flew all the way out here. I'm not leaving until you talk to me."
Jess looks at him and sighs loudly, appearing defeated.
"Ok," she says quietly. "But let me say something first. If I tell you, you have to promise not to make a big deal out of it."
His brow furrows at her instructions, but he just shrugs. "Ummm…ok."
"I mean it," she says more adamantly. "I don't want to make this a thing. I'll tell you but then you need to just leave it alone."
"Ok," he agrees, tossing his hands up.
She swallows hard then walks to the side of the porch, allowing more space between them, and perches against the railing. She closes her eyes and rubs her temples for a moment before continuing.
She takes a dramatically deep breath and then starts, "Ok…
"Nick, I realized a while ago that I have…feelings for you again." She sputters over the word 'feelings,' saying it quickly but not so quickly that he could miss it.
He stands there silently, dumbfounded, his eyes wide as she continues.
"And I know you don't feel the same way. And…that's ok. I'm ok with that. But I just…I need some space. And some time. So yeah, I haven't answered your calls and I came back to LA and packed up my room to move out. Because…it just…I can't anymore."
She waits a beat, her gaze steady on him as he continues to stand there before her, barely blinking, his expression blank.
She continues. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have. Everybody told me to tell you, but I don't know…I couldn't. So, I just left. I'm sorry."
She releases a long breath as she finishes, getting it all out in the open.
He hasn't moved or breathed since she started speaking, clearly overwhelmed and processing what she just confessed.
Seeing him not react, she quietly adds, "That's it. So…now you know."
She bites her lip, waiting for some kind of response. He looks down at the ground for a moment and then back up at her.
"Wow…ummm, ok," he starts quietly.
"You don't have to say anything," she offers quickly, her voice trembling a little. "I know it's a lot."
"I just didn't…." he starts, his head spinning, unable to speak intelligibly. "I don't know what I thought but I…"
His voice fades as he lets out a deep exhale. Then he lifts his eyes to meet hers and says, "Am I allowed to ask a question?"
Still visibly nervous, she chews on her bottom lip and nods her head silently.
"Did you say, 'you know I don't feel the same way?' How…how do you know that?"
She closes her eyes for a moment and presses her lips together tightly, searching for the right words. After a moment, she quietly utters, "Because…I was at your book reading earlier this week."
His eyes grow wide. "You were?"
"Yeah. You were right. It was me in the back," she admits. "And I heard someone ask about when Pepperwood and Jessica Night would get together. You told them that they're based on real people who are never going to be together."
His expression instantly softens, remembering what he said. "Jess, I didn't mean—"
"No, it's ok," she cuts him off, with a forced sense of cheer. "It's totally fine. I'm good. Really. A-Okay! I mean, it's better that I found out than embarrassing myself with a song or some stupid romantic gesture…"
His eyes are warm, regretful, as he asks, "So…you were in LA then too?"
"Yep," she answers with a nod. "I mean, it was just those 2 days. Go to the book reading, check! Pack up my room, check! Come back to Portland, check." She taps her finger against her hand as she counts the checks.
He nods a little in understanding. The energy between them is heavy and awkward with unspoken words.
Breaking the silence, Jess hesitantly asks. "Anything else?"
He goes to talk but stops short. There are too many questions and his brain isn't working fast enough to process all of them.
"Ok, good," Jess concludes, seeing him stand there in silence, straightening up and walking back to the door. "So that's it. I'm sorry again I made you come out here."
"Jess, wait…" he starts, taking another step forward towards her.
"I really have to go, Nick," she says, turning her face away from him. "And you got what you needed, so I'm going to go inside now."
She turns back to look at him one last time, her eyes glazed over, and her cheeks flushed. "It was good to see you. Have a safe flight back."
With that, she opens the door and walks inside, quickly closing it behind her.
Twenty minutes later, he's in the Uber on his way back to the airport. His mind is spinning out of control, her words echoing over and over. There are so many questions he wishes he would've asked her, but in the moment, he was completely frozen and unable to sort out everything she was telling him.
Does she really have feelings for him again?
Picking up his phone, he dials Schmidt's number. He exhales loudly as the phone rings.
"Nicholas! So glad you called! Cece and I have some very exciting news—"
"Schmidt, I'm in Portland," Nick says, cutting him off. He can't bear to hear any kind of positive news when he's completely in his head right now.
"Wh—what?" Schmidt asks, his temperament coming down to a more serious tone. "You're in Portland? Oregon or Maine?"
"Why would I be in Maine?"
He hears Schmidt's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by him yelling, "Cece! Nick is in Portland!"
Nick sucks in a deep breath and says, "Schmidt! Listen to me – I need help here. I know why Jess left. She told me."
There's some shuffling and then he hears Schmidt's voice a little further away, realizing he's now on speaker with both Schmidt and Cece.
"You're really in Portland, Nick?" Cece asks.
"Yes. I had to talk to her."
"What did she tell you exactly?" Schmidt asks tentatively.
"You know what she told me," he says with an edge of annoyance. "She said she has…feelings for me. And that's why she's moving out."
There's quiet on the other end of the line for a moment. Then Schmidt asks, "And what did you say?"
"I….I didn't."
Schmidt's voice is escalating in panic as he says, "You didn't what?"
"I didn't say anything," Nick admits, rubbing his face. "She said…a lot. And I don't know. I got overwhelmed and…freaked out. I didn't really say anything."
There's silence again and he can feel their frustration brewing on the other end of the phone.
"I need to go call Jess," Cece announces, to which Schmidt agrees and whispers something to her, his voice muffled, as Cece takes off.
When it's back to just Nick and Schmidt, Nick sighs into the phone and waits for Schmidt to yell at him.
"You're an idiot."
"I know."
"I mean, I knew you were dumb, but this, Nicholas Miller, is perhaps the dumbest thing I think you've ever done."
"I know," he grumbles back. "I freaked out."
"When a girl like Jessica Day tells you that she has feelings for you, you don't just stand there mute like you've seen a bear!"
"I should've said something, but I couldn't," Nick starts. "How could she not tell me before?"
"I don't know, Nick. Look, I can't say I agree with how she handled this, but she did what she thought was best for you. Do you not see that?"
"I don't know," he grits through his teeth. "But now, she's got all of these…feelings that I didn't know she had."
"And you don't have feelings for Jess too?" Schmidt asks, his voice rising up doubtfully.
"I…I don't know…"
"Let me ask you, Nick," Schmidt starts, his voice calmer, "why do you think you were so upset that she was moving out of the loft?"
"Because…I didn't want her to go."
"But as I recall, you didn't even want her to move in to the loft in the first place. Now why do you think that is?"
"I was scared of sanitary napkins-"
"Nick, you have been in love with this girl since the first time you saw her. Tell me I'm wrong."
"I…" Nick thinks for a moment, contemplating his words.
"We all see how you look at her," Schmidt continues. "You love her. It's a good thing, Nick."
Nick goes to argue with him, "It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
"Because…I screwed it all up." His voice comes out quiet, with an edge of regret and sadness.
"Well, guess what?" Schmidt returns brightly. "Today is your lucky day. It's your second chance."
Nick sighs deeply and looks out the window of the car, watching the houses go by, seeing the twinkle of the lights inside, briefly wondering who lives there and what they are doing inside. His mind then goes back to the night that he and Jess broke up the first time, when she told him that someday, she wants to move back to Portland and live by a lake. Gazing out at these houses and the families inside, he can't help but smile gently, picturing him and Jess in one of the homes with the big windows and mature, lush trees. There's a warmth in his chest as he envisions them sitting outside on a porch, holding mugs of spiked hot chocolates, his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders.
"Nick? You there?"
"Yeah," he utters, focusing back on the phone call. "Just thinking."
"Look, for once in your life, don't be afraid," Schmidt tells him as earnestly as he can. "If this is what you want, you need to go for it."
Nick nods to himself. "Yeah, I get it. I think you're right, Schmidt."
"Of course I'm right!" Schmidt practically yells. "I'm always right!"
"Well, I wouldn't go that far—"
"Where are you now?"
"I'm in an Uber, heading back to the airport."
"Well, tell that Uber driver to turn around!"
In a panic, Nick leans forward and yells to the driver. "Hey uh, sir, driver, my man. Any way we can change the destination for this trip?"
The driver looks back at Nick through the rearview mirror. "Where do you want to go?"
Nick takes a deep breath and says, "Back to where we started."
An hour later, the car pulls back into Jess's dad's driveway, Nick promising to tip the driver well and give him a high rating on Uber. All of the lights are now out in the house and he debates how to go about getting her back outside. If he rings the doorbell, there's a high probability that her dad will answer, and he can only imagine the kind of reaction that will result in.
Standing in the front yard, looking up at the house, he pulls out his cell phone from his pocket and sends a quick text to Jess.
Can you come back outside?
He waits a minute, not seeing or hearing any movement in the house, trying to figure out which window goes to her bedroom.
He looks back at his phone and then adds,
Please?
As he contemplates throwing rocks at one of the windows, a light on the porch comes on and he hears the front door lock release. He straightens up a little and feels his heart start to race.
Then he sees Jess peek outside.
"What are you doing?" she whispers loudly, still partially inside the house.
"Can you please come outside for a minute?" he asks her, moving to stand on the walkway below the porch.
"Why?" Her voice is clipped and short.
He struggles to find the right words to explain. "I don't like how we left things before…how I left things."
Hesitantly, she takes a step outside onto the porch, gingerly closing the door behind her.
He takes in her appearance, still in her pajamas with her bunny slippers and messy hair. Her glasses are on, but he can tell immediately that she's been crying, as there's a pink hue to her nose and her eyes are bloodshot.
"Ok, what is it?" she asks, crossing her arms tightly around herself. Her tone comes across as cold and almost annoyed, eyeing him skeptically.
Watching her and seeing how irritated she seems, he feels his temperature rise, unable to stop the words from flowing.
"Jess, you don't get to tell me you have…feelings…for me and then tell me not to respond."
She quirks her mouth to one side. "I definitely didn't tell you that…" she says very slowly.
He looks at her seriously. "You told me to not make a 'thing' out of it," making an overly dramatic gesture with his hands to air quote the word "thing."
She exhales deeply watching him. "Ok, fine. Go ahead. If you want to, make a thing out of it," she says, making a grand sweeping gesture at him.
"Thank you. I will," he replies, taking a step towards the porch. "Do you know what the biggest issue was in my relationship with Reagan?"
She arches her eyebrows. "Is that a rhetorical question or am I supposed to answer that?"
He doesn't let her answer.
"Communication," he announces, an edge in his voice. "So, do you know why this whole thing right now is really getting to me?"
She visibly grows quiet, sensing where he's going.
He doesn't wait for her to answer. "It's because we are not supposed to have that issue. We talk to each other, Jess."
She scoffs loudly. "Nick, seriously? Are you mad at me about this?"
"I think I have every right to be," he tells her, shaking his head. "How long have you felt this way?"
Jess closes her eyes, noticeably uncomfortable, and quietly mutters, "Awhile."
"How long, Jess?" he presses.
She hesitantly opens her eyes, her voice coming out weak and timid. "Like…a year."
His eyes immediately widen. "A year?"
She flinches at his reaction, watching as he covers his face with his hands, grunting loudly in frustration.
"You kept this for a year? And then you just…left? Without telling me?" He takes a few hard breaths, trying to regain control. His voice grows quieter as he adds, "You always tell everyone how you feel about everything, Jess. Why didn't you say something?"
She releases a deep breath, shaking her head. "I couldn't. I don't know…I'm sorry I didn't tell you. If I could take it back and do this differently, I would, but I couldn't figure out a way to tell you when you seemed like you were happy."
He continues pushing. "You told Schmidt, you told Winston…aren't we supposed to be best friends, Jess?"
She looks completely exasperated at this point. "I'm not in love with Schmidt or Winston!" She throws her hands up in the air, his expression shifting at her words.
Nearby, a dog starts barking and a light flickers on in the house next door, reminding them that it's late and they need to keep their voices down.
He is rendered speechless at her words. Did she just say she loves him?
She tries to calm herself down, closing her eyes and gulping down a few deep breaths. "Look, I didn't know how to handle any of this. And yes, I told Schmidt and then I told Winston…but only because I had to, not because I wanted to."
She pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts. When she starts speaking again, her voice is quieter. "You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you when you were dating Reagan and afterwards, I just chickened out. I shouldn't have left without saying something. I was wrong. I'm sorry, Nick."
Silence falls over them as they stand there, just looking at each other. He's shifting a little back and forth, appearing uncomfortable, her words still resonating in his mind.
"Is that all you wanted to say?" Jess asks, breaking the quiet. "Because it's really late—"
"No, that's not all I wanted to say." He sighs and takes another step forward, gazing up at her on the porch. His eyes are gleaming in the moonlight, focused straight on her.
"Jess, do you really think that I don't have any feelings for you anymore?" His question comes out low and raspy.
Her face scrunches up in confusion. "At the book reading, you said—"
"Forget what I said. Is that really what you think?"
She looks at him blankly. "I…I don't know."
He waits silently as she thinks about the question more.
"I don't know, Nick. I mean, you were in a serious relationship with someone else like a week ago. And like I said, you seemed happy."
"Jess, I dated Reagan because I thought that's what you wanted," he says with a pleading tone. "Hell – the whole reason I took it so seriously is because of what you said to me at Schmidt and Cece's wedding last year."
Jess visibly cringes at the mention of her words of encouragement to him last year. Then she gulps a breath and replies, "Well, for a while, that is what I wanted…until it wasn't anymore."
"Well, I didn't know that," he replies simply, shrugging. "So yeah, I dated Reagan and yeah, for a while there, I was happy. But it's not like I just…just…forgot about you."
She tilts her head at him, bewildered. "Well…yeah, I mean, I was there. We all lived together. So…it would've been weird if you had forgotten about me."
"No, that's not what I mean," he states more obstinately. He inhales deeply, internally pushing himself to tell her what he's thinking…or more importantly, what he's feeling.
"Jess, when you and I broke up, I wanted you to go out and live your life and find some guy who would make you happy. I thought I had screwed this up the first time around, so there was no chance that would ever be me."
Her eyes immediately soften at his words. "Nick—"
"Just, please," he interjects, putting his hands up to stop her from talking. She hesitates, but then silently nods, allowing him to continue.
"So yeah, you dated other people. And so did I. But it's not like those feelings I had for you went away. I…well, I guess I buried them so I wouldn't have to deal with them and we could be friends again. But I didn't forget. You were always there, Jess."
She's standing at the edge of the porch, her blue eyes unwavering as she watches him standing below her on the walkway, trying her best not to say anything. She listens to him silently, the only sound the crickets chirping around the house.
He sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Reagan and I wanted different things. I wanted to talk, to do things together. But Reagan didn't want that. We just…weren't right," he trails off, his voice getting quiet.
His eyes meet hers again and he clears his throat, adding, "I guess, what I'm trying to say…maybe not in the best way…is that I want those things, but I want them with you. I…well…I love you, Jess."
There's a heavy silence between them, the weight of his confession lingering in the air. He watches her very closely as she absorbs his words, her eyes softening and starting to flood with emotion, becoming glossy in the moonlight.
Not knowing what else to say, he adds quietly, "It's always been you."
Her face shifts to appear more tender, a very small smile emerging on her lips.
When she speaks, her voice comes out small and hoarse. "I didn't want your relationship to fail. I don't want you to think that."
"I know."
"And I didn't tell you because I thought you were happy. And…I wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn't with me."
"I know, Jess." He takes a small step forward towards her, standing at the base of the porch looking up at her. She swipes at her eyes, roughly pushing any lingering tears off her face.
"And I am really, truly sorry for how I handled things," she adds, her voice low but sincere.
He nods in understanding. "It's ok, Jess. I know."
The quiet settles over them again, a sense of uncertainty looming.
She releases a long sigh. "Can I ask one more thing?"
He looks at her in surprise. "Only one?"
She tilts her head at him in mock annoyance. "I just…are you…you're not just saying this so I won't move out of the loft?"
His jaw immediately falls open and his eyebrows raise at her in disbelief.
"Jessica, you cannot be serious!"
"I don't know," she whines, throwing her hands up in the air. "I don't know what to think, Nick. This all just feels…sudden."
"This feels sudden? How do you think I feel?" he practically hollers at her, then forces himself to calm down. "Jess, come on. I wouldn't lie to you like that. Do you want to see my back?"
"No, I don't need to see your sweaty back," she spits out, then stops and looks up at the sky for a moment. Then she looks back down and adds, "You know what? Yeah, maybe I do."
"Seriously?"
"Yes. Show me your back."
He groans in frustration, then takes off his jacket and turns around to show her the back of his shirt. "See! No sweat!"
"Ok, ok," she replies, trying to hold in her laughter. When he turns back around and puts his jacket back on, she can't help but let out a loud snicker. He watches her and smiles, scratching the back of his head.
"Jess, what are we doing?" he asks earnestly.
"I don't know," she answers with a sigh. She's still smiling a little from the lack of sweat-back. "Are you sure about this? It's not too soon?"
He scoffs at her question. "Jess, I've been way more upset about not talking to you than Reagan and I breaking up."
She nods lightly, as he takes one step up on the porch.
"Do you want some time?" he asks quietly.
"Do you know how much time I've already spent thinking about this?"
He takes one more step up, standing on the step just below where she's standing. He reaches for her hand and holds it, intertwining his fingers with hers.
"Do you want me to show you my back again?" he asks her with a lopsided grin. "Because I can if you—"
Cutting him off, she quickly grabs the edge of his jacket, pulling him towards her. She captures his lips, leaning down into him. He immediately returns her kiss, letting her hand go so he can wrap his arms around her and pull her close. She wraps one arm around his neck, weaving the other hand into his hair.
The air grows thick between them as they stay embraced, lips against each other. Keeping his lips on hers, he slows the kiss down to place smaller, softer pecks on her lips. She brings both hands behind his neck, trying to delay the end of the moment as much as possible, letting her shaky breath out in between kisses. His hand cups her cheek, his thumb rubbing lightly against her skin.
She feels herself smile uncontrollably as he kisses her repeatedly and then feels as he starts to smile too, a light laugh escaping between them. She opens her eyes a little, peeking through her lashes, as he rests his forehead against hers gently. His arms wrap around her back while she relaxes her arms on his shoulders.
A quiet comfort envelops them, with the sounds of the evening air mixing with their breathing.
Still holding onto him and keeping her head against hers, she whispers quietly, "So…what now?"
He pulls back to look at her, softly brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Can we go home now?"
She smiles a little at him, warmth in her eyes, and nods. "Yes. Let's go home."