Talk Is Cheap

Nicole tapped her finger against her desk and stared blankly at the test questions in front of her. She hadn’t studied for her exam, and for the past couple weeks she’d been falling asleep in class, making her pretty much doomed to fail.

Her mother began using heavily again just in time for Nicole’s midterms, forcing her daughter to spend entire nights holding her on the cold, tiled floor of their bathroom while she painfully came down from the high she got while Nicole was at school. Her drugs of choice were cocaine, heroin, and sometimes meth, of all forms. She enjoyed smoking them just as much as she enjoyed snorting or injecting them. She had a problem, and had been this way since she was 18. Nicole’s father pretended like he didn’t know what was going on. Instead of staying home with his wife and trying to get her help, he changed to night shifts at the hospital and spent his off days drinking the day away. Nicole was forced to be a grown-up her whole life. She understood someone had to take care of her mother, and because no one else was around, she understood that job was hers.

Her olive eyes focused on the clock, willing the minutes to pass by quicker. She already knew she was going to fail, there was no use for her to sit in class and watch everyone take their test when she didn’t remember learning a single thing they were being tested on. Abruptly, the classroom door slammed open, and several heads turned to see who was there. The headmaster walked in quietly, his head hanging low as he crossed the room to talk to Nicole’s English professor. She watched the two men carefully and noticed the saddening effect of the headmaster’s words on her professor. When both men turned in her direction, her cheeks flushed profusely and she turned her attention back towards the test as she attempted to decode what felt like gibberish to her.

“Nicole Wood,” hearing her name was a surprise; she was never the girl that the headmaster asked to talk to. She was quiet and obedient; never in trouble, and usually the ideal student. She lifted her head, strands of light brown hair falling into her face. Her professor locked eyes with her and waved her over. She sighed deeply, before struggling to her feet and climbing over rucksacks in order to make her way to the front of the classroom.

She chewed on her lip as her eyes darted from one man to the other. Although the headmaster attempted to seem unattached, his eyes were full of worry just like her professors’.

“Can I speak to you in the corridor?” her professor asked, reaching to place a hand on her shoulder. Too nervous to speak, Nicole nodded her head before following her professor out of the classroom with the headmaster at their heels.

After shutting the door behind him, her professor gripped both her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes, making her stomach contrast in knots. Her mind began to wander; what could possibly be wrong? Maybe her marks were worse than she imagined. Maybe she was flunking out of school…

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Nicole let out a small whimper, waiting anxiously for him to continue.

“Your mother overdosed this morning. She’s been rushed to the hospital, but there isn’t much hope.”

Her vision became blurry and the corridor began to spin. Harshly, she pushed away from her professor and stumbled down the corridor, begging her feet to run to the nearest girls’ lavatory. She couldn’t control her movements and soon found herself tripping over her own feet and toppling to the floor. She crawled quickly to the nearest trash bin and tipped it over for her reach as she began regurgitating her breakfast. Once it seemed she’d thrown up everything in her stomach, she pushed the bin aside and brought her knees to her chest. She rested her face in the palms as hot tears welled up in her eyes.

Nicole lifted her head from her palms to stare up at the clock. 10 minutes left, she thought before leaning over and propping her elbow up on the desk before resting her head against her hand. She continued to ignore her professor, letting her paper and pencil remain untouched for the entire duration of class. She wanted her boring, political science class to end, so she could go home, grab a package of her favorite chocolate-chip cookie dough from the freezer, watch the Lion King, and cry herself to sleep. Of course, she’d pretend the tears were caused by Scar’s bullying behavior and not how easily she related to Simba.

Four years ago, this day didn’t matter. Now, she hated whenever it came around. She wished it didn’t exist. She wished she could spend the whole day sleeping, so then she wouldn’t have to think, but she knew the nightmares would come eventually. There just wasn’t much she could do about today.

When class finally ended, Nicole was the first one out the door. She wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck, catching a few pieces of hardly straightened hair while the rest blew around her face on the chilly, February day. She walked away from the university, her feet carrying her quickly in the direction of her flat. Usually, she’d stay at the library to get some homework done or go to her favorite coffee shop down the street to read the daily newspaper, but today all she wanted was to be home and away from human interactions.

She ran up the three flights of stairs like an Olympic sprinter, and didn’t slow her pace until reaching her flat. She jumped back slightly, completely taken aback by the boy band singer sitting on her ground, his back pressed against the door.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there, crying uncontrollably in the middle of her secondary school’s corridor. Her professor and headmaster didn’t come after her, thankfully. They were men after all, and men usually struggle with emotions, but also they probably understood she needed to be alone. It wasn’t every day that people find out their mum died from taking too many drugs. Nicole couldn’t help but feel responsible. She should have flushed the drugs down the toilet. She should have asked for help. She should have done anything besides what she did in order to prevent this.

“Are you alright?” a low voice interrupted her thoughts, and she slowly lifted her head, attempting to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. She stared through blurry eyes at a tall, lanky boy standing over her. They’d been in school together for as long as she could remember, but she hardly knew his name. They had different mates. Well, he had mates and Nicole didn’t. He was outgoing and she was overly shy. He was good-looking and she was a mess.

“I-I’m fi-fine.” She mumbled. it was hard to form words. Her brain was a mess at this point.

“I don’t believe you.”

Nicole watched him nervously, unsure of what to do as he slid to the floor and positioned himself next to her. He wrapped a long arm around her shoulders and she stiffened beneath his touch. He was practically a stranger to her, and the last time she checked strangers didn’t randomly comfort other strangers.

“Y-you don’t ha-have to do thi-this-”

“Shhh,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling her ear. “Everything will be alright.”

“Harry?” Nicole asked, stirring the green-eyed boy away from his thoughts. He turned towards her sharply, tightly gripping a sack of who-knows-what in his lap.

“Coley,” he spoke breathlessly, jumping to his feet. He slung the sack over his shoulder and grabbed a bouquet of flowers from his side. “I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I just waited—here for—you.”

“What’re you doing here?” she raised an eyebrow, fingering her flat’s key in her pocket. He looked at her blankly, unable to collect his thoughts before remembering what he’d come there to do.

“I bought you these,” he shoved the flowers towards her, and she struggled to grab hold of them before pressing them to her chest. She stared down at the bright yellow sunflowers, knowing the exact reasoning behind his gift. “I know they’re your—and her—favorite.”

“Were her favorite.” Nicole corrected, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

“I also bought you chocolate chip cookie dough, and your favorite coffee.” He lifted the plastic sack as he spoke for her to see. She eyed the items carefully through the transparent bag, noticing some-what happily he’d gotten her a large container of cookie-dough over the standard package.

“Thanks.”

“I can just give you this,” he handed her the sack; resting the handles over her wrist so it hung against her leg. “And I can go, I know you probably want to be alone and I’m sure Niall is coming over-”

“He doesn’t know about today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I told him goodbye last night. I couldn’t deal with him leaving on top of everything else today.”

“Right, well I’ll let you go then-”

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked, surprising herself just as much as him. His green eyes met hers as he searched her face, trying to figure out what she was feeling.

“Sure.”



Harry and Nicole sat on two different sides of the couch, watching the credits to the Lion King roll across the T.V. screen. Harry fidgeted nervously with his thumbs while she forced herself not to look in his direction. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d willing spent time together. Although they’d been inseparable for nearly a year, their relationship seemed like a distant memory to Nicole now. Before, sitting quietly together watching a film was so comfortable , but now she felt awkward. She wished she’d never invited him inside.

“How’re you holding up?” he muttered quietly, wanting to say anything to defuse the tension. Nicole shrugged her shoulders, unsure how to reply. She felt miserable, but not as bad as last year, or especially the year before that. She’d gotten better with dealing with her mother’s death, and had finally started to accept it. It was over and done with, and there wasn’t anything she could do to change it.

“Time heals all wounds.”

He nodded, understanding perfectly what she meant. He was probably the only person who truly understood her and everything she went through with her mum. He’d been the only person she trusted enough to tell the intimate details to, and although she’d slowly begun to tell Sage some things, she hadn’t been there when it all happened like him, so she’d never really understand. For a moment, Nicole began to feel extremely thankful Sage had decided to drive to the beach for the day to get inspiration for her art work. It was nice to be with someone who knew exactly what she was feeling, even if it was incredibly awkward.

“How’s your family?”

“My dad is sober.” She began, knowing he probably wanted to know. Harry knew very well her dad had become quite the functioning alcoholic after his wife’s death. He’d been with Nicole more than a few times when her dad was utterly pissed and cursing angrily at his daughter, sometimes blaming her for the overdose. Once, he’d even gotten physical and smacked Nicole across the face so hard, he split her lip and cracked her tooth. Harry wanted to tell the authorities, but she pleaded with him not to, and instead she spent the entire summer living at his house.

“I see him once a month, so he can give me rent money, but that’s all. I guess he’s happy. My step-mum seems to keep him in check.” Her father had gotten re-married a year ago. She didn’t go to the wedding. She didn’t have anything to do with her dad anymore. She couldn’t forgive him for the way he treated her after the death. Maybe one day they’d be on friendlier terms, but not now.

“Good for you.” he said, turning to face her directly for the first time since arriving. He was proud of her for being so strong and finally sticking up for herself. She’d changed more than he’d realized since the last time he saw her. She wasn’t a fragile little girl anymore. She was more confident now, and he liked the change.

She looked at him through the corner of her eye; his green eyes were watching her closely, making her feel uncomfortable. A majority of his curls were hidden beneath a grey beanie and his acne wasn’t covered by layers of make-up. He looked less like a famous boy-band member and more like the lad she’d met, and fallen in love with, in school.

“Do you remember,” he said slowly, waiting for her to turn towards him. She ran her teeth across her bottom lip before cocking her head to the side. “The night of your mother’s funeral?”

“When you got me drunk, and I tried to kiss you several times but you wanted nothing to do with me?”

“Yes,” he replied with a sheepish grin.

“Barely…” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Nicole traced her fingers over the faded photograph in her hand, tears slipping down her cheeks as she thought about when the picture was taken. She was seven, and her mum was holding her tightly in her arms as they waved at the camera, the sun setting behind them. It was her last memory of her mum sober. They were in Italy for a family vacation, and her dad was taking the picture.

Of course, there was the occasional sober week or two after her mum returned from a month or less in rehab, claiming to be saved, when in reality all she cared about was finding a new dealer. Every time her mum promised to get clean, Nicole believed her, and every time she started again, Nicole taught herself to understand addiction is a terrible illness and comes before everything, even family.

“Whatcha looking at?” his voice warmed her ears as he sat next to her, wrapping her securely in his arms. She immediately let her head rest against his chest, finding comfort in his smell and the way her body fit perfectly with his.

“It’s just a photo of my mum and me.” She muttered, tossing the picture aside.

“I brought you something.” He replied, handing her a heavy flask, filled assumingly with alcohol. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, wanting him to elaborate. “It’s Beefeater. I got it from my step-dad’s liquor cabinet. Thought you could use a buzz.”

She wrapped her fingers around the flask, studying it closely before unscrewing the lid and bringing the opening to her nose. The alcohol smelt disgusting and made her stomach churn. She hadn’t really drank much before, and was nervous of making a fool of herself in front of him, especially when she’d been trying to hold herself together and impress him for days.

“I dunno-”

“I promise it’ll make you feel better.” She wasn’t hard to convince, bringing the flask to her lips and taking a quick drink. The alcohol tasted disgusting and her face contorted into several different, unpleasant expressions as it burnt the back of her throat. Harry chuckled softly and encouraged her to drink more.

After only a few sips, she could feel the alcohol rushing to her head. She was a typical light-weight, and hadn’t eaten since getting the news of her mother’s death, so the alcohol hit her harder than it would most people. The room felt like it was spinning, and she gripped onto his black jumper tightly, in order to steady herself.

“Harry,” she whispered, her face nuzzled against his neck. He looked down at the girl in his arms, wishing she would stay there forever. “What if someone finds out I’m drunk?”

He looked around her room while listening closely to the voices from downstairs. The church service had ended over an hour ago, and now everyone had been invited back to the Wood’s house for a standard wake full of snacks and conversation. They were the only ones upstairs; no one would bother them, at least for a while.

“I promise that won’t happen.”

She lifted her head to meet his gaze before studying him closely. He’d recently begun growing his hair out, causing newly formed curls to fall past his eyebrows. His face was thin and heart-shaped with small acne bumps popping up randomly across his forehead. His lips were pressed in a tight line, and she could tell by the tension in his jaw that he was biting his tongue. He was cute, naturally good-looking, and completely charming. She couldn’t help but wonder how in the world she’d gotten here. A few weeks ago, he hardly knew she existed, and now he was in her room, on her bed, holding her.

Before she could stop herself, her lips were against his, kissing him eagerly. At first he didn’t react, but soon pushed her away. He gripped her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length while he scrutinized her. This was not the way he’d pictured their first kiss. Lately, that was all he thought about, and this was far from the way he wanted it to happen. She was teary-eyed and drunk, and he didn’t want to take advantage or have her regret her decisions.

“Nicole,” he began but was soon cut off by her lunging towards him again, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He pushed her away, again. Wondering what had gotten into her.

She mentally slapped herself, knowing her actions were completely out of line. She should have known he didn’t feel any attraction towards her; he was just being friendly this whole time. But, she was emotionally wrecked, drunk, and just wanted to distract herself from the real world. Nothing seemed to go her way.

“S-sorry,” she muttered, pulling away from him and scooting down the bed. Tears started to form in her eyes, and she began to wonder how much longer she could cry before she physically ran out of tears. He followed her immediately, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. He rested his face against her head, placing kisses in her hair.

“Don’t be sorry, love.” he insisted as she whimpered softly, tears staining her clothes.

“I’m so stupid,” she mumbled, her body tense beneath his touch. She hated feeling vulnerable and that he felt like he needed to take care of her.

“Not at all.”

“Yes, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry. I’m a fucking mess right now.”

“Stop apologizing.” He demanded, tugging at her shoulders until she turned to look at him. He cupped her face in his hands before pressing his lips against hers with endless amounts of passion. She quickly felt light-headed, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she melted into the kiss. She was so overwhelmed, it seemed impossible to kiss him back, but she didn’t push him away, she let him go on kissing her until they finally pulled apart, gasping for breath.

“I wanted our first kiss to be more special,” he began, but she pressed a finger to his swollen lips.

“It was perfect.” She insisted, falling back into his arms. He placed his lips to her neck, wondering how on earth he’d gotten here. A few weeks ago, she didn’t know he existed, and now he was in her room, in her bed, holding the girl he’d been admiring from afar for as long as he could remember.

“That day was the start to a beautiful friendship between our lips.”

“Shut up,” Nicole demanded as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon. You know we had some good times.”

She bit her lip, completely unsure of what to say. It was hard for her to remember the good times because it made her miss him. She’d much rather remember the bad in order to keep a hold on her emotions.

“Do you want some tea?” she asked, deciding to ignore his earlier statement.

“Yes please.”

Nicole rolled off the couch and into the nearby kitchen. She pulled a box of English breakfast tea out of the cabinet before adding water to a kettle and heating it over the stove.

“I miss this.”

She turned around quickly, caught off guard by his sudden appearance in the kitchen. She was surprised to see he was standing so close to her, their bodies were only a few centimeters a part.

“W-what?” her mouth was dry and her heart was racing. The effect he had on her was overwhelming. It made it hard for her to think straight, let alone form sentences.

“Just being with you.”

“We’re mourning my mum’s death, Harry. This isn’t a little hangout session, or whatever.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss being with you, or just you in general.” He took a step forward and Nicole immediately felt light headed. Things were moving too fast.

“Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true. Do you not miss me?”

“I spent many months missing you, so I’m over it now.”

His eyes found the floor, her words hurting him more than she intended. She was just telling him the truth. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she still thought about him some nights before she went to sleep, or sometimes, when her heart really yearned for him, she read over his twitter and laughed at his strange humor that confused most people.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, closing the small space between them and resting his forehead against hers. “There’s no excuse for my actions-”

“I don’t want to get into this now, Harry.”

He sighed and stared down into her olive eyes. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself, and within seconds his lips were against hers. She was caught by surprise, a burst of emotions filling her body, and a montage of memories playing in her brain. She never thought she’d be here again, attached to Harry by a kiss. She quickly remembered every reason she ever loved him, and felt herself falling deeper, like she was 16 all over again.

Just as she began to kiss him back, getting caught up in his taste, his smell, his touch, she pulled herself back to reality and pushed him away, panting heavily to catch her breath.

“You’ve got to leave.” she demanded, pointing a finger at him. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at the tall boy standing in front of her. To her surprise, he didn’t object and backed slowly out of the kitchen. He grabbed his belongings before leaving the flat without muttering a single word.

After turning off the stove, Nicole made her way to her bedroom, forgetting all about the tea she’d craved earlier. She curled up in her blankets and shoved her face in her pillow, letting her tears soak her sheets. She couldn’t believe he did that. After everything they’d been through, he had to go and kiss her when she was finally happy with another lad. He had to go and make her want him again. He had her wishing again, like so many nights before, that he’d never broken up with her—that they were still together and very much in love.

What the fuck was wrong with her?