When I arrived on the Carters' back steps, I was a wreck. It had started to pour, and my blonde hair hung in limp, dripping stands around my face. My clothes had drops of water on them and my eyes were rimmed in red.
"Maddison?" his face softened into a look of complete concern when he saw me.
"Nicky!" my face crumpled and I sobbed as he wrapped me into a hug, ignoring the fact that I was making him wet.
"Come on in, out of the rain," he attempted to guide me into the house.
"No," I shook my head, "I don't want your family to see me like this, they'll worry."
"It's alright, they've out, won't be home until late," he reassured me, "I didn't want to go, so it's just me here."
"Okay," I sniffled.
Nick led me by the hand upstairs and into his bedroom. After helping me pull my sopping sweatshirt over my head, he handed me one of his own worn-in, soft, lemony fresh sweatshirts that had become all too familiar to me over the years. Still crying, he simply pulled me close, resting my head on his shoulder, and rocked with me in his arms. When I had somewhat calmed down, he sat me down on his bed and coaxed me to tell him what had happened while he gently rubbed my back.
"It-it's awful," I managed to choke out, "Daddy got a new job and-and they want us to move to Boston!"
"Oh, Maddie!" he hugged me again, but this hug was of a different variety. This was no longer as much a sympathetic hug, but a clingy hug, fearful that the possibility of losing me was now a reality.
"But you're my Shortstuff! How can they make you leave me?" he clung on tighter, using his special nickname for me.
"I don't know, I don't know," I whispered, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Nick lay down with me still in his arms. I buried my head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the wonderful smell I was so accustomed to. The two of us lay there, clinging onto each other. Nick softly kissed my forehead, and that was the last thing I could remember before drifting off to sleep.
That was exactly how his parents found us some hours later, with me nestled securely in his arms, Nick's lips still inches from my forehead, and both of us wearing expressions of anxiety.
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"So," Nichole smirked as I entered the bathroom we shared, which joined our bedrooms, where she was doing her hair, "Did you have fun at Nick's last night?"
"Nikki, how many times do I have to explain this to you? We're purely platonic," I stated matter of factly.
"Well, the rest of us have been waiting. It's bound to happen. Just you wait and see. The two of you were meant to be," she smiled knowingly, "By the time we move, you'll find it as hard to say goodbye to him as I will with Brad," she added, referring to her boyfriend.
"Sure, I'll find it hard to say goodbye! He's my best friend!" I explained.
Nichole gave a sigh of frustration and threw her hands up in the air, "What can I say? I try....." I heard her mutter as she walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom.
I bit my lip. Secretly, deep down, I had to admit she was right. Lately things had been different. It just hadn't quite clicked with me yet. Neither with Nick. Or so I thought.
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