Next - Second Chances

CHAPTER 12

Without another word, Nick spun on her heel and hurried into the break room, the insistent thrum of adrenaline still singing in her veins. She turned on the hot water tap, scrubbing her hands with a ferocity usually reserved for crime scenes, not casual encounters. Then, a quick glance in the grimy mirror above the sink. A silent curse escaped her lips. A distinct grease stain smeared across one cheek, a testament to the chaotic energy of the lab. Her usually manageable hair was a tangled nest perched precariously on top of her head, the safety goggles still resting there like an absurd crown. Her black t-shirt, blessedly dark, was a mess of creases, but at least the color hid the smudges and stains she knew were clinging to the fabric.

She lifted one arm, inhaling deeply, then the other, a groan rumbling in her chest. She needed a shower, a long one, followed by a nap. But spraying deodorant now? That felt like conceding, like admitting she cared what he thought. And she absolutely, unequivocally, did not want him to think she cared. Not one bit.

She splashed more water on her face, scrubbing away the grime and the last vestiges of self-consciousness. A quick pat dry with a paper towel, and she was done. She walked out of the break room, her gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Rick, whose silent scrutiny she could practically feel drilling into her back. True to his word, Nolan was exactly where she’d left him, a silent sentinel by the door. She didn’t break stride, didn’t slow down, but kept walking, a steady, determined pace, directly past him and towards the diner across the street.

Nolan’s head turned, following her progress, a slight smile playing on his lips. He watched her for a beat, then turned and gave Rick a quick, almost imperceptible wave before hurrying to catch up. They crossed the road briskly, the traffic a distant hum. Nick reached the diner door first, pulling it open with a decisive tug and stepping inside without so much as a glance back to hold it for him.

“Hey Peggy,” she called out, a wave of her hand as she crossed the diner. The familiar scent of fried bacon and stale coffee was surprisingly comforting. She slid into an empty booth near the back, the red vinyl cracked and worn, but welcoming.

“Hey sugar, usual?” Peggy, a woman who seemed to be composed entirely of warmth and efficiency, approached their table, pen already poised.

“Not today,” Nick replied, a slight shake of her head. The thought of a French Dip, her usual, felt heavy and slow. She didn't want to linger, didn’t want to give him more time than necessary. It took ages to cook, and even longer to eat. It was out of the question.

“Oh! Feeling adventurous!” Peggy’s eyebrows lifted in mock surprise, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she glanced at Nolan.

Nolan slid into the booth opposite Nick, reaching for the laminated menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser. This was exactly the kind of diner he’d expected. The kind where the staff were overly friendly, treating their customers like long-lost family. A small, but hearty, selection of cooked foods, offset by an impressively vast array of pies and milkshakes. He caught the fleeting blush that colored Nick’s cheeks at Peggy’s teasing remark, a warmth spreading across her skin. He looked away just as she shifted, as if sensing his gaze, but not before a faint smile touched his lips. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but he certainly didn’t mind seeing that soft blush.

“Who is this tall drink of water?” Peggy asked, her gaze now fixed on Nolan, a wide, welcoming smile gracing her face.

“Nolan Chance,” he introduced himself, extending a hand across the table, his smile wide and genuine. Peggy took his hand, holding it firmly, but without shaking it. It was a gesture of familiarity, of acceptance into her domain.

“Well, well, I hope you are treating my girl right,” Peggy said, her voice a low rumble of warning that was more playful than threatening. Nolan’s eyes flickered towards Nick, who was now intently studying the menu, as if deciphering ancient hieroglyphs.

“I’m trying,” he said, his smile returning to Peggy. She squeezed his hand once more before releasing it and pulling a pen from behind her ear.

“What can I get you, honey?”

“I heard the French Dip here is hard to resist,” Nolan said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he glanced at Nick.

“Best in three counties,” Peggy declared, a proud gleam in her eye.

“Sounds perfect. And a strawberry malt.” Nolan placed his menu back behind the napkins, a clear signal he was done ordering. Both Peggy and Nick now gave him their full attention.

“Grilled cheese, and a glass of orange juice,” Nick mumbled, her gaze still fixed on the menu, though she wasn’t really seeing it.

Nolan watched Peggy as she jotted down the order. He noticed the slight frown that creased her brow, the quick flicker of her eyes from Nick to him, a silent question passing between the two women. Then, just as quickly, she scribbled the order on her notepad and walked away, leaving a comfortable silence in her wake.