Train Tracks // Nick Wilkins x OC

muffin

I regret what I did.

I should not have run out. I am avoiding my phone like the plague, which, on the bright side, is helping a lot with my sludge content addiction.

I'm absolutely sure Casey hates me– either she knows I have this stupid eating problem or she thinks I don't like her family's amazing cooking or she thinks I don't care about her enough to help her when she's hurt and all. Heck, I left her there when she was "hurt and all".

My doorbell rang. One... two... I prayed for the third ring to not be pressed, and it never came. On the contrary, that meant Nick was waiting for me on my paw-print doormat.

I slowly crept downstairs to attempt to see his facial expression through the marble-glass window. It was blurry and twisted so I couldn't quite make his attitude out. I unlocked the door.

"Hey, Casey's worried about you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, she didn't tell me anything but she came home with this weird mood."

"I don't know," I said. I knew it. I knew it. She's mad at me. I was such an idiot, I should have helped her. Does Nick know? He said he doesn't, but what if he's lying. He has no reason to lie. He's never lied to me before. What if he is, though?

"What did you come here for?" I didn't even realize the words came from my mouth. I stared at his shoes.

"What do you mean?" he asked. A sudden panicked emotion clouded his voice. I didn't look at his face. "I– do you not want me here? I can go, if you want. I'll go."

I put my hand on the door but didn't take my eyes off of his shoes. They were velcro. It suited him.

"Don't– please don't go. I like it when you're here."

"Okay."

There was a silence. "Do you like my shoes?" he said suddenly.

I looked away, as if they were staring back at me and I had to break eye contact with them. Those darn shoes.

"Yeah, I guess," I said softly. "You can come sit down, if you want. I was going to make sandwiches."

His eyes suddenly lit up and he sputtered out a "be right back!" before rushing out the front door. I shrugged my shoulders and continued putting my sandwiches together. As soon as I placed the two sides of the sandwich together, my unlocked front door opened once again to Nick holding some sort of cloth in a bag.

"What's that?"

"You'll see." He set the bag down and gasped for air. "Sorry– I– I ran a lot. Do you by chance have any ziplock bags?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Could you put the sandwiches in them?"

"Okay. Do you want chips?"

"Sure, you can bring a bag."

"Where are we going?" I asked him. A smirk was my only answer.

"Just come on, you'll see!" He tugged my arm lightly as we, now side-by-side at my kitchen island, placed the items into a basket. "I have a feeling it'll stop any of that icky anxiety or whatever it is."

I smiled as warmth gently licked my cheeks. "Thank you!"

._.

He led me through a field and eventually we reached some old wooden train tracks. "Surprise, we're having a picnic!"

"I never guessed," I said giddily, although of course I had. We had brought along a basket of food and a picnic blanket, after all.

"I can tell by your face that you totally did guess," he smiled at me before laying out the blanket in a place where the grass wasn't too lumpy and hard, and together, we watched the sunset.