Nibble part 21

It was probably stupid to go to the alley that night. But for some reason I felt like staying in my house would be worse. And I had a feeling that Nick would go-even though he, out of experience, knew that this would be a bad decision. When I walked up the alleyway, he was standing there, but this time, he had a small can of pepper spray in his hand, identical to the one tucked in my jean pocket. I walked up to him and we just sort of stared at each other for a moment until I finally said, "Why did you come here when you know what could happen?" He rose an eyebrow and said, "Because I knew you would be stupid enough that you would. And I wasn't just gonna leave a girl to walk in an alley on her own when I just got beat up in one." He shrugged, "Besides, I heard the gang's moved on, out of this town. So we should be safe." I just stared at him for a moment longer before nodding and starting to walk down the alley, with him trailing behind me in silence.

I turned just as I was about to go into the store and watched as he started to walk away. Suddenly, I said, "Where are you going?" He turned and rose an eyebrow at me. I almost expected him to demand to see my poetry again. But instead he shrugged and said, "Why don't you come find out?" I rose an eyebrow and ran down the steps, hurrying to his side as he started walking again.

"Is this..." I started, "What is this?" He rose an eyebrow at me, "What does it look like?" I rose both my eyebrows, "Um..." my voice trailed off as I looked around the little building. There were signed CDs and records in frames on one wall and there was a tiny little glass room at the end of the hallway. I looked back at him, "A recording studio?" He nodded with a grin, "Good observation." He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked past a tired looking woman with wildly braided red hair and way to much mascara, giving her a small nod of acknowledgement as she yawned in response and poured herself a cup of coffee. I stared at Nick as he opened the door of the little recording room and sat down on the stool, picking up a guitar that was leaning against the wall and putting headphones over his ears. The tired-looking woman trailed over from the little mini-kitchen and sat down in front of the confusing-looking controls in front of the little room. "You better pay me good for this, angel." I thought she was referring to his last name, but it occurred to me the way she smiled at him and batted her over-mascaraed eyelashes that she was just saying that in a friendly way. A flirty way. Nick looked at my expression and chuckled, "Angel Studios," he said, "My dad's." I rose an eyebrow, "Wow." He nodded with a smile and said, "He would kill me if he knew I was doing this almost every night." He winked at the woman and said, "So that's why it's our little secret." She nodded and said, "So, Nicky, what will you be singing tonight?" He leaned towards the mic and said, "Covering again." She groaned, "Come on. We need some original material." He shrugged, "I don't know," he said, meeting my gaze, "Maybe if I find a good poet, she can be my lyricist." I blushed and the woman looked back at me and rose an eyebrow before turning back to Nick and saying, "Ok. Let's do this." He leaned into the microphone and as he played the first notes, singing words I recognized, I realized he was playing Right Here (Departed) by Brandy. I had never heard a guy sing this song-or anyone but Brandy, actually- and it was both shockingly incredible and yet totally Nick. His deep, scratchy voice sounded smooth, low, and warm when he sang-like warm coffee slipping down your throat in one quick motion, satisfying a craving that I didn't know I had. "When your tears are dry from crying, and the world has turned to silence, when the clouds have all departed- you'll be right here with me," he sang, and it was better than Brandy and seemed like it wasn't really surprising because I didn't expect that Nick sang but more because I had never realized it before.

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