Page 46 of Nick

I want connection. I want relationships —not a relationship— just relationships. I want to feel like people know me and care about me. Deeply.

I want to feel loved.

And okay, maybe I would like a relationship again...someday. Right now, that feels impossible...but someday? Someday, yes.

God, that's a huge step forward. A month ago, I didn't think I'd ever get this far.

But a really good friend? One I could trust with all that I am? I need that.

"Bree," Nick shouts through the door. "Open up. I'm starving!"

Laughing, I set aside my pondering and open the door, revealing Nick, hair up in a bun in a plain black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His feet are bare. The man even has nice feet with long toes and neatly trimmed nails.

"Do you get pedicures?" I ask him, staring at his toes.

"Bree," he scolds, in a laughter tinged voice. "My eyes are up here."

My gaze collides with his, and I blow a raspberry at him. He laughs, letting himself in, grabbing the groceries off the counter. "Let's go. I'm serious. I've been thinking about dinner all day. Let's get cooking."

He holds the door open for me, arms wide, bags dangling from his fingers, barely noticing the weight. I stop in the doorway and look up at him. "It's okay if you get pedicures. It doesn't make you less manly."

He aches an eyebrow at me. "I'm all man Bree. All man. And yes, I've gotten a pedicure...or a few. We should go together next time. No offense, but your feet are a little..." he screws his mouth up, holding back a grin. "Gnarly."

I gasp. "Rude. Take that back. I mean, yeah, it's been a while since I had them done, but they're not gnarly."

"I speak the truth woman. You want a man to tell you everything about you is beautiful, and that your pits never stink? Get a boyfriend. That's what they're for."

I follow him to John's door. Nick doesn't knock, just barges in. "So boyfriends spout bullshit?"

"Yep,” he says, putting the groceries on the counter. “Not all the time, but they have a very good reason to keep you happy. Friends can tell you the truth. They're not trying to get in your pants. It's just the way the world works, Bree." He turns to John, standing in the middle of his kitchen with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. We've been in here a few times over the last week, and it's a pretty standard pose for him. "Tell her John. Tell her how guys are."

John gives Nick a flat stare, then fixes me with a slightly less scary glare. "Men are dicks, but they want the opportunity to use those dicks. They'll say whatever they have to, to get between your legs."

"Wait...I know men are dogs." I wave my hand in a sort of apology when Nick gasps dramatically. "But once they're in a relationship, I thought it was about being a team. You know, 'Us against the world' and all that."

John rubs his chin, eyeing Nick. "You wanna field this one?"

Nick head droops. "Chicken bake," he whines. "I don't know what it is but it sounds so good."

"Waiting for the other one anyway," John mutters. 'The other one being Jonas of course. He knows Jonas's name, even seems to like him, but John also seems to want to keep his emotional distance.

Nick drops the pout. "Fine. Yes, all men are like that. It's not necessarily a bad thing. You're heard that saying, 'happy wife, happy life' right? It's kind of like that. If a guy thinks a lie will keep you happy, then they'll lie."

"And if I don't want to be lied to? I don't want that. Ever again. I can't."

Nick studies me, but doesn't seem to have an answer. John looks equally baffled, but his gaze is somewhere behind me.

"Then you find someone who knows all of you," a soft voice says from the doorway, "the good and the bad. Someone who's seen you at your worst, and date him. That's the only way you'll ever have a chance." Abby moves into the room, grabbing her regular spot at John's table, the one with the best view of the kitchen. "I've been in a long term relationship. I was lied to through all of it. But I did a lot of lying of my own. I lied about who I am, what I really like and what I want. All of it.” Her tone turns introspective. “I'm not sure why I expected him to be honest if I couldn't be."

I move to the table, pulling out the chair at the end. "But why did you lie? That's the part I don't get. Why lie to get a boyfriend?"

"Honestly? I don't know if I was conscious of doing it. It sneaks up on you. He asks if you want to go to a club, and you say yes, even though you hate them and would rather stay home and get take out. Then before you know it, you're someone who's going out every night because he likes it."

"How long were you guys together before he...before you..."

"Before I found him fucking another woman in our bed? Six years." She props her chin in her hand, and stares at me. "Why did I stay? Because I was in too deep. I lived with the guy. I reminded him to buy his mom's birthday presents. When I moved in, I chose all the furniture. I didn't want to lose it.” She raises one brow. “Why did you stay? Were you totally you in your relationship with he who shall not be named?"

"I thought I was," I mutter, flashing to all the nights we spent together. "But we met in Cara's club. That's the side of me he knew first. I think he liked that version of me. The bartender, the flirty girl. He seemed...not shocked, but maybe disappointed, when he found out I was a physiotherapist and didn't wear leather pants every day."

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