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When Nicole was ten, she’d fallen in love for the first time.
Shannon was gangly, had aqua braces, wavy blonde hair, and wore a noxious cloud of Victoria’s Secret Love Spell. And she was perfect. And not all that much older. Fifteen, ten-year-old Nicole had reasoned, wasn’t even old enough to drive alone, so it’s not like Shannon was out of her league. And the fact that she was Nicole’s babysitter was beside the point, really. “Babysitter” didn’t mean anything. It was just that Nicole hated being watched by her brothers. After she’d had to get the awful bowl cut she was currently sporting when her middle brother stuck a whole pack’s worth of chewed up Bubblicious in her hair while she was sleeping, her mother had relented in bringing in one of the neighborhood girls. Secretly, Nicole suspected her mother was hoping that a local girl would have a positive, taming, feminine effect on her skinned-knee’d, gap-toothed daughter.
And she definitely had an effect. Shannon was a sweet, tolerant girl, and didn’t mind one bit if Nicole wanted to go outside instead of staying in. The first day she’d come over, she’d mixed up a pitcher of Crystal Light for Nicole. Nicole had been up the tree she’d learned to climb when she was three to get away from the constant hazing that came with being baby sister. Shannon had stood in the dappled light filtering down through the canopy and held up a glass of lemonade with powder still dissolving at the bottom.
“Hi, Nicole. I’m Shannon.” Shannon smiled, revealing the train-tracks of her braces. “You don’t have to come down, but I thought you might be thirsty. Be careful, okay?”
Nicole had been star-struck. That was the last time she was in the tree for a while. When Shannon was around, Nicole was suddenly ashamed of her messy hair and her dirty t-shirts. She sat at the kitchen table, trying to keep herself from swinging her legs, pretending to be bad at her math homework so that Shannon could lean over her shoulder and help with the problem. Nicole watched Shannon’s finger move over the numbers, watched the strawberry lipgloss on her lips shine while she mouthed the instructions, smelled the heavy perfume in her hair, and felt warm in lots of new places.
When Shannon, three years later, had gone to prom with Nicole’s brother Christian, Nicole had locked herself in the bathroom for hours, and no one could figure out why the hell she was so upset.
That was when she’d decided something, though she didn’t have the words for it at the time. Never, never fall in love with a straight girl. Lesbian rule numero uno for self-preservation and unnecessary heartache.
Which was why she’d spent a good portion of her tenure in Purgatory beating herself up mentally for her out-of-control crush on poor Waverly Earp. She’d come in like a giant Sapphic tornado that day at Shorty’s – all bravado and clever lines. In the moment, she swore she’d seen Waverly blush and a spark of interest in her eyes. Nicole had left feeling good, but that feeling had sunk as time went on. She’d spent weeks watching Waverly come in the department with stacks of paper, mission-minded as she mumbled to herself, and then leave shortly thereafter with Wynonna without casting Nicole a second glance. And then there was Champ – the cankersore that followed Waverly around with roving hands and straining jeans. As far as Nicole could tell, Champ was the antithesis of gentlemanly, and had a brain made of driftwood. And had Waverly seemed to think so more often lately? Had she danced out of his embrace? Looked more frustrated whenever he opened the insult that was his mouth?
That’s what always got her in trouble – the wishful thinking. Just because Waverly didn’t seem terribly interested in Champ of late, that didn’t mean that Nicole stood any sort of chance in his wake. In fact, if anyone, she probably had her eye on that costume-mustache-guy. He sure did seem to hang around the Earp sisters with some frequency. Or maybe even Dolls, though Nicole had a hard time imagining the Deputy Marshall with anyone. Hell, for all she knew, Waverly had been making heart eyes at the kid who delivered food to Shorty’s on Tuesdays and Fridays. In all that time, Waverly had never been anything but decently civil to Nicole – the way she was to everyone.
So when she came across Waverly sitting on the stoop outside Shorty’s, fiddling with an envelope and looking disquieted, Nicole didn’t think it was her place to interrupt her. That’s what her brain said, anyway; her heart had her feet already walking in Waverly’s direction.
“Did you get a chain letter?” she asked. “Better not ignore it. Half our cases at the department are mysterious, chain-letter related deaths.”
Seriously? Nicole asked herself, but was gratified when Waverly gave her a wry half-smile.
“Kinda, actually, but I’ve got it under control.”
Nicole slid her hands into her pockets and shrugged, smiling back. “I don’t doubt it. All that research you’ve been doing at the office? With a mind like yours, can’t imagine there’s much you couldn’t handle.”
It was meant to be a compliment, but the look that Waverly gave her was so strange that Nicole immediately pulled her hands back out to hold them up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I just meant –”
“No, no,” Waverly hurried, still peering up at Nicole curiously. “No, it’s not…thank you. It’s just…well, it’s nice to be acknowledged like that. Thank you, Officer.”
Nicole was about to ask her for about the millionth time to please, just call her Nicole, but Waverly was patting the stoop next to her in clear invitation. That about short-circuited whatever Nicole was about to say, and she sank down like an obedient puppy.
“It’s nice to be called something other than just ‘pretty,’” Waverly continued. “Not that I’m fishing or anything but –”
Nicole jumped to action. “I didn’t mean you’re not pretty too, of course you’re gorgeous-”
“ – that’s why I broke up with Champ.”
They both shut their mouths, blinking wide-eyed at each other at these new revelations. Nicole felt her face growing hot, damn it, and she knew there had to be freckles all over her cheeks, and no, stop that, it didn’t mean anything…
Waverly’s eyebrows stayed up, but she didn’t look disgusted or off-put. Just…turning things over in her mind. “Gorgeous?”
“Um…wow, I’m really sorry about Champ,” Nicole tried, desperately changing the subject.
Waverly’s knowing smirk came back. “No you’re not.”
Nicole ducked her head, chagrinned, and took off her hat for something to do with her hands, fiddling with the brim. “I just always thought you could do so much better. You shouldn’t have to settle, Waverly. Someone like you deserves to be happy and treated with respect.”
Waverly leaned a little closer, trying to catch Nicole’s eyes. “Someone like me?”
Nicole flicked her eyes to her left, met Waverly’s curious gaze, and then quickly back at her hat. “Someone really incredible,” she said.
And then there was warmth and pressure on her thigh, and Nicole looked down to find Waverly’s hand resting there. She lifted her head, trying like hell not to hope. Not again. Not for what felt like the hundredth time in a row, only to have another girl decide no, Nicole was very sweet, but she really just liked boys, and Nicole understood, didn’t she?
“That’s sweet,” Waverly said, and Nicole winced at the word choice. “But how can you be so sure? We’ve barely gotten a chance to talk, right?”
Well, Waverly had her there. All of a sudden, Nicole felt sort of like a stalker. The poor girl was probably so uncomfortable.
But the hand was still there, and Waverly was smiling, and Nicole experienced the familiar sensation of falling into bright eyes all over again - like a sort of karma her hot-blooded heart was doomed to keep repeating.
“So…let’s change that, huh?” Waverly stood, and Nicole found herself instantly mourning the loss of her touch. “Now that I’m an independent woman of substance, I’ve actually got a free afternoon for a change.” She tucked the envelope into her pocket and shrugged with a shy sort of smile. “I mean, only if you want to hang out. You’re still in uniform, so I guess you’re on the clock actually, and I know how mad Nedley gets when he feels like someone’s sl-”
“No, I’d love to!” Nicole got to her feet suddenly, and she hadn’t realized just how much taller she was until she was right in front of Waverly. Up this close, she could smell Waverly’s perfume – light, sweet. Like apples. Like beginnings.
“I mean, I kinda owe you coffee anyway,” Waverly said, descending the last few stairs and looking over her shoulder while she chatted. “May I suggest literally the only coffee shop in Purgatory? It has great Yelp reviews. From all twelve of us.”
Nicole laughed and placed her Stetson back over her braid. “Sounds perfect.”
Well, what the hell. If she was going to walk this mile again, open herself up to hope one more time, at least she’d get a cappuccino out of it.
But the way Waverly was watching her - eyes sharp, intrigued, and, oh yes, flicking down once or twice to look as Nicole unbuttoned her shirt collar – made her feel like maybe this time, it was safe to have a little hope.