Ships in the Night

Sol and I have planned to meet up at our usual spot in the park. I’m early, because I’m nervous, and the statue of Curiosity seems to leer down at me with a look of mocking pity. The hanging wisteria flowers are deathly still, as there isn’t a breeze to cut through the intense heat of summer today. Supposedly, environmental variety is a part of what makes the public atmospheres feel natural and real to not just the plants and animals, but the rest of us too. I still think they should blast the AC though.

Because I’m sweating—from nerves or from the sun, I can’t say for sure. When I spot Sol coming toward me, his hand raised in a friendly wave, I smile back tensely.

He doesn’t seem to notice my stiffness at first, leaning in to give me the usual peck on the lips. I don’t melt into it the way I usually do, and that’s his cue that something is wrong.

He pulls back, his face marked with concern. “What’s up?”

I don’t know when I started wringing my hands, but I’m doing it now and I can’t seem to stop. “I have a question for you,” I start. “It’s, um, kind of serious.”

His concerned look becomes even more concerned, and he steps back to give me space. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes. I mean, no! I mean…” How do people normally do this?! I should have asked Tori how Adrien had asked her. This is going so poorly already. I take a deep breath, struggling to maintain eye contact with him, since I think eye contact is probably important for something like this. He’s looking increasingly alarmed, my nerves clearly rubbing off on him. “I… I was wondering… if… or why… or… um…” My face is turning red. I can feel the heat building, likely flushing me with color all the way down to my neck. I just have to get the words out; there’s no reason to delay. Get it over with! my brain screams at me. So I take a deep breath and ask really fast, “Can we be exclusive? Like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

There. I did it.

And… horror. I swear my heart stops beating for a second as the nervousness in his face doesn’t dissipate but becomes even more pronounced. He glances to the side awkwardly, and I can practically hear the dam break inside of me as tears start to pool in my eyes. I’m an idiot. “Petra…” he begins, but I don’t let him finish.

“Nevermind! I’m sorry I asked.” I turn on my heel. I don’t want to let him see me cry. “I forgot I have plans. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I start to run back home, feeling like the stupidest girl in the world.

He doesn’t chase after me. He doesn’t call out. He just lets me go.

Which makes me feel so much worse.

I pick up speed, rushing all the way home, where the tears start to flow freely down my cheeks. I shut the front door behind me with a bang. My mom’s at work, so it’s just me, and I can cry as much as I want.

I call my dad.

“You’ve reached Maxwell Ricardo, pianist for—”

With a shuddering breath, I hang up and slump down onto the floor, covering my face with my hands. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I knew it.

My Linx starts to ring with a call, and for a moment, I feel a surge of hope. Is my dad…?

But no. It’s Nico. I let it go to voicemail and bury my face in my knees.

I shouldn’t have said anything.

Then a knock at the door behind me has me jolting to my feet, my heart pounding. Who…? What if it’s Sol? I wipe my eyes, trying to look as presentable as possible. Then, after a shaky breath, I open the door to—

“Nico?”

He stares at me for a moment. He’s in short sleeves for once, though still in his signature black. His hair is pushed back slightly, shining with a bit of sweat, and he’s wearing a worried frown. Then, as his dark eyes sweep across my face and he takes in my most likely tear-streaked face, he says, “Whoa. Are you okay?” Guess I don’t look as presentable as I’d hoped.

“Yep,” I say weakly. Then I burst into tears again.

I can’t see him through my bleary vision, but I do feel his arms hesitantly wrap around me in an uncertain hug. He’s still warm from the sun, though not in a way that’s smothering. It feels good to not be alone, I think. Is that pathetic? “What happened?” he asks. “I saw you running, and I don’t know, I thought maybe…” He trails off, and his hand starts running up and down my back in a comforting gesture.

“I asked Sol out,” I manage to say, my voice strained.

“You did?” His hand stills for a moment, then the hug tightens slightly. “And he said no?”

“Well, he just… didn’t say anything… so I ran away.”

“Oh.” He starts rubbing my back again. “That’s not a no, at least.”

“It’s worse,” I wail, burying my face into his shoulder. I realize I have never been this close to Nico before, and he smells vaguely like… cinnamon? It’s unexpected, but not unpleasant. If anything, it’s kind of nice. I close my eyes, still shaking with involuntary sobs, and finally start to relax into the hug.

And then he laughs.

I pull back stiffly and glare at him through my tears. “This isn’t funny.”

He’s covering his mouth to hide his smile. “Sorry. I just… I thought something more serious had happened.” He reaches out and roughly wipes a tear from my face, surprising me. “It’s not funny,” he agrees quietly. “I’m sorry.” He lowers his hand so I can see his smile. It’s gentle, maybe a bit pitying, but kind too. It’s so different for him, and I feel reassured.

I realize all at once that I’m happy he’s here. I don’t know how I’ll tell Tori and Zach about this—my pride is in pieces. But Nico? I don’t really care all that much what he thinks of me. I don’t care if he sees me cry. I know he won’t tell anyone, because he has no one to tell, and I know things about him too, things that ensure there is no ego between us.

He wears his hurt on his sleeve, and now, so do I.

And what does it matter? We’re two ships in the night, nothing more.

Right?

His eyes search mine, trying to interpret my silence, and I see a soft, swirling blend of warmth and concern in them, things I didn’t know he was capable of—at least, not for me.

And then Zach’s haunting words come back to me, as they often do. I hate how much that dummy is right, and I wonder if he’s right again about something else. Does Nico…?

At the dangerous thought, Sol pops into my head like a warning, one that falls on deaf ears, as the growing loyalty I’ve felt for him shatters. We aren’t together. I know that for sure now. In its place, a different feeling stirs inside of me. Anger. Bitterness. A mounting desire to take control. To avenge the hurt I feel with more hurt. An eye for an eye. I look up at Nico and ask, “Do you like me?”

His expression morphs into something like shock. “W-what?”

He didn’t say no. And he doesn’t put more distance between us either. The midday sun cuts bright triangles of light across his face, and I can see beads of sweat across his forehead.

My confidence surging to life again, I repeat myself firmly. “Do you like me? Do you have a crush on me?”

I have nothing to lose.

And apparently, neither does he.

With a furrowed brow, his eyes flitting away for a moment, he admits, “Sometimes.” His face turns red. “I mean, I did a long time ago.”

A long time ago?

“And what about now?” I ask.

He looks at me, really looks at me, his eyes meeting mine unwaveringly, despite his obvious nerves. “Yes,” he says softly.

So I pull him into the house, closing the door behind him. He only has one more moment to blink at me in surprise when I pull him into a kiss.