I felt the blanket being yanked off of me as I woke up. "Mornin' sleepyhead."
I squinted open my eyes to see Spot standing over me with the blanket I had been using. I ignored him, simply rolling over. My ankle was then grabbed. I was dragged off the bed, landing with a thud on the ground.
"Ow," I groaned, kicking Spot's hands away from my feet.
He gave me a smug look and held out his hand. I swatted it away, picking myself up. I punched him in the arm with a glare.
"Someone's grumpy," He teased.
"I wonder why," I said, rolling my eyes as I put on my hat.
I decided to just sell in Brooklyn today. I was tired and didn't feel like walking back to Manhattan. At the moment, the idea of walking back seemed absolutely horrible.
Spot and I decided to make it a competition to see who could sell them the fastest. I won, which he was not too happy about considering the amount of trash talk he'd done.
After finishing, we sat on the docks, our feet dangling over the sparkling ocean water. It was silent. A peaceful silence, as it often was. The warm breeze blew through our hair. The sun beamed down on our tanned faces.
"Did I ever thank you?" Spot asked finally, breaking the silence.
"What for?" I wondered.
He sighed and closed his eyes, as if taking everything in. He stayed like this for several moments. I watched the wind blow his hair around, then saw his calm look, a smile trying to creep its way onto his face. I shook my head, trying to snap out of it and come back to reality.
Spot opened one of his eyes, giving me a mischievous smirk. "Getting me away from your psycho friend."
I tried to keep it in, but soon I bursted out laughing. "She's not that bad," I protested. Spot raised an eyebrow at me. "Okay, maybe she is a little psycho."
"But, then again, who could resist this?" Spot gestured to himself, waggling his eyebrows.
I suppressed a laugh, then raised my hand high. "I could."
"You sure about that?" He winked.
"Very," I insisted.
"If you say so."
We made unobstructed eye contact for a while. He smiled softly and I could feel my face redden. "Stop lookin' at me like that," I commanded.
He didn't stop. "Like what?"
"Like that," I repeated. He shook his head with a chuckle, taking his eyes away from me. He fingered his necklace as he stared out at the ocean.
"Why'd you run away?" I asked. I had been wondering ever since he'd first mentioned it.
He held up the necklace. "My mom died when I was little," He faltered, as if retelling the story hurt. "After her death, my dad started ta drink. He would always come home late and drunk. He'd beat me for nothin'. I couldn't handle it anymore. So I ran away."
"How old were you?"
"Seven."
I couldn't imagine that. He'd been living on the street since he was seven? That was absolutely horrible. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I became a newsie practically right away."
"How did ya come ta be the king anyway?"
"I dunno how I became the king. I just kinda worked my way up. Used my brain-"
"You have a brain?" I interrupted.
"Shut up," He commanded, flicking the bill of my cap.
I laughed. "Where'd ya get yer nickname?"
His face fell and he stared at his feet. "It was given ta me by the former Brooklyn newsies leader," He explained, "He found me out on the streets just a few weeks after I ran away. He took me in and I became a newsie."
He sighed. "I always found us the best sellin' spots. He started ta call me Spot. It started out just bein' him ta do it. It only started ta catch on after he..." He trailed off.
I placed my hand in his sympathetically, lacing my fingers through his. He stared at me for a moment, looking slightly surprised. Then he released my hand, leaning back.
"How 'bout you?"
"My nickname is just a shortened version o' my real one."
"And yer name is?"
I thought about it for a second. I didn't really want him to call me by my actual name, because I was pretty sure that was something that he would do.
"Nichole. Nichole Grace Badger. Everyone called me Nick at first. That's what I told Jack my name was. Nicky was just a little nickname that Race used occasionally. It caught on and here we are. What's yer name?"
"That's classified," Spot said with a smirk.
I frowned, punching him. "C'mon, I told ya mine."
"Voluntarily."
"You asked."
He groaned. "Alright, but if ya tell anyone, yer dead," He explained. I nodded. "Sean."
"Is Conlon yer real last name?"
"Yeah, it's Conlon. The name's Sean Patrick Conlon."
"Sean Patrick Conlon," I repeated, "I like it. Might call ya that from now on."
"Don't even think about it."
"Thinkin' about it," I said with a wink. Then I started laughing. He shoved me.
His blue eyes peered into mine. I could feel my face become rosy as he got closer to me. When he was an inch away from me I opened my eyes, stopping. He noticed, following my lead.
I smirked at him. He clearly didn't understand, raising an eyebrow. Then, to his surprise, I shoved him and he went crashing into the water. He screamed as he fell, which made me laugh.
I looked over the side of the dock, waiting for him to come back up. Nothing. Suddenly, I became frantic. "Spot?" I called out, "Spot, please tell me you're okay!" I scrambled over to the ladder, climbing down a few rungs. I stopped about a foot above the water. I searched around desperately.
Suddenly he popped up behind me. "Gotcha!" He exclaimed, grabbing me around my waist and dragging me with him.
The freezing cold water pulled me down. I struggled to stay above the surface. I gasped for air, flailing my arms around. Apparently, I couldn't swim. Which made sense considering I'd never been in water deep enough for that before.
"You're the worst!" I shouted to Spot as I bobbed in and out of the water.
After about a minute of my struggle, Spot appeared next to me. He was treading easily, not seeming to have trouble staying up. "You okay?"
"Can't," I gasped, "swim."
"Here, lemme just-" Spot grabbed my waist. I pushed him off, still struggling. "I'm only- Ack!" That scream was because I may or may not have kicked him. "Stop that. I'm tryin' ta help ya. Would ya just- Nicky, stop flailing!"
Finally, I let him help me. He helped me to tread and I could at least keep my head out of the ocean. I calmed down, trying to regulate my breathing. We made our way back. He stood on the first rung of the ladder and simply stared at me.
"I hate you, y'know," He told me, reaching for my hand.
"Feeling's mutual, Conlon." I stood on the same rung as him, my chest pressed against his. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest as our eyes met. Our faces were close. I felt his breath on my face. His eyes moved from mine to my lips.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. He tenderly touched my hip. My lips brushed against his and then, without another thought, I kissed him. Time seemed to slow as our lips molded together perfectly. He pulled me closer, his hand circling my waist. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck. I ran my fingers through his wet hair, only wanting to get closer to him. It was the moment we'd both been wanting for.
"You were right," I whispered to him.
"Naturally," He said, kissing my cheek softly. "Wait, what was I right about?"
"You're irresistible," I said softly, with a chuckle. Spot smirked, winking at me. Then he went back in for another kiss, cupping my face in his hand. His lips were soft against mine. It was practically perfect.
Then, of course, the moment was ruined by the voice of an idiot. "It's about time," I heard Race's voice say. Breaking away from Spot, I saw that Race and Jack had been watching. Since when, I wasn't sure.
I rolled my eyes. Then I gave Spot one last peck before climbing up the ladder.
"How long have ya idiots been stalkin' me?" I asked them, smacking Jack across the head with my sopping wet hat.
"Long enough," Race said, winking. I punched him in the arm.
"Where's loverboy?" Jack asked. I looked around, realizing that Spot hadn't followed me up. I looked over the edge of the dock to see him just standing on the ladder, looking paralyzed.
"You good, Spotty?" I asked him. He didn't move.
I sighed, then made my way down the ladder. "Ya comin' up or not?" I asked. He didn't pay me any attention. I snapped a couple of times in an attempt to get his attention.
When he finally broke out of whatever trance he was stuck in he looked confused. "Did I just imagine that?" He asked.
"Imagine what?"
"That you kissed me."
I smirked. "Nope." I grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him again.
When I pulled away he wore a goofy grin. "Pretty sure I wasn't imaginin' that. If I was I've got a pretty good imagination."
I laughed, climbing back up onto the dock. Jack and Race both wore smirks as we climbed up. Race sent Spot a wink. Next to me, I could see Spot's face go red.
I scolded Race and Jack individually. I may have punched them each. Then I went back to Spot. His expression was a mixture of shock and joy. I kissed him on the cheek and laced my fingers through his.
"Don't tell me yer gonna be like that all the time," Race said, making a gagging sound. I chucked my hat at him, hitting him right in the face.
Race and Jack didn't stop their tormenting for the rest of the day. They refused to leave me alone. Even when we went back to Manhattan. Race kept asking questions. Apparently Jack had told him everything, even though he wasn't supposed to (don't worry, Jack was shoved off the docks for that).
***
I'm back y'all! I was just in the wilderness for like a week. There were so many bugs. There were like five different wasps in our cabin each day. But apparently I'm not afraid of bees anymore
anyhow, i hope you enjoyed the chapter
have a glorious day/night
<3