6

As they stepped into Nick's spacious home, Chas couldn’t help but let her eyes wander around, taking in the warm, modern decor. The high ceilings, cozy furniture, and sunlight streaming through the large windows felt both inviting and surreal.

Nick set her suitcase down by the stairs, glancing at her as she stood in awe.

“This place is amazing… I mean, it’s way too nice for someone living alone.” Chas complimented

Nick smiled faintly, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Well, it wasn’t always just me.”

Chas turned to him, her curiosity piqued by the shift in his tone.

“Oh?”

Nick hesitated for a moment, then leaned casually against the wall, his expression calm but thoughtful.

“I used to live with my ex-wife. We were together for eight years, but things didn’t work out. That was about two years ago.”

Chas blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.

“You were married?”

Nick nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah. We lived together in another place back then, but after we divorced , I decided to start fresh. Bought this house and made it my own.”

Chas tilted her head, her expression softening.

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been tough.”

Nick shrugged, his gaze drifting briefly to the floor before meeting her eyes again.

“It was. But life moves on. It’s one of those things that teaches you a lot about yourself, you know?”

Chas nodded slowly, processing his words.

“So, this place… it’s kind of your clean slate?”

Nick smiled at her perceptiveness.

“Yeah, something like that. A place to focus on myself, my music, and whatever comes next.”

Chas couldn’t help but feel a little admiration for him—not just for his success, but for the way he seemed to handle life’s challenges with grace.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you did a great job. This house really feels like… you.”

Nick chuckled, his demeanor lightening.

“Thanks. I guess it does. But enough about me. You’re the one moving in. Let me show you your room.”

Chas followed him up the stairs, her mind still lingering on what he had shared. There was something comforting about his openness, even if she could tell there was more to the story.

As Nick opened the door to her new room, Chas stepped inside, her eyes widening at the sight of the cozy, sunlit space.

“Wow… This is amazing. Are you sure this is for me?”

Nick grinned, leaning against the doorframe.

“Positive. Make yourself at home, Chas. You deserve it.”

Chas turned to him, her heart feeling unexpectedly full.

"Thank you, Nick. For everything.”

Nick nodded, his smile soft but genuine.

“Anytime. Now, settle in. You’ve got a lot of questions to ask, and I’ll need some energy for round two.”

Chas laughed, the playful banter easing the weight of the moment. Nick and Chas stood in her new room, surrounded by a few boxes and bags filled with her belongings. Chas hesitated for a moment before kneeling beside one of the boxes, opening it to reveal her essentials. Nick joined her, crouching down to help, his expression neutral but his tone light.

“Alright, let’s see what kind of mysteries are packed in here,” he said, reaching for the first bag.

Chas smirked. “Mysteries? It’s just my clothes and toiletries, not the Holy Grail.”

“Still,” Nick teased, pulling out a colorful hairbrush covered in sparkly stickers. “This… is definitely revealing.” He turned it over with mock seriousness. “I see you’re a glitter enthusiast.”

Chas laughed, swatting his arm. “Hey, I was bored one day! Besides, it adds character.”

“Character, huh?” Nick set the brush aside carefully, like it was a priceless artifact. “I’ll keep that in mind when you judge my ‘boring’ house decor later.”

The Laughs Continue

As they dug deeper into the box, Nick pulled out a small stuffed bunny, its fur slightly worn. He raised an eyebrow at Chas holding it up like it was evidence in a courtroom.

“And what do we have here? Miss Honeydew's emotional support bunny?”

Chas flushed, grabbing the bunny from him.

“Hey! That’s Flopsy, and she’s been with me since I was five. Don’t mock her.”

Nick held up his hands in mock surrender, his lips twitching into a grin. “Flopsy, huh? Alright, I’ll treat her with respect. Wouldn’t want to upset the boss.”

Chas shook her head, chuckling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are,” he shot back with a smirk.

As Nick helped Chas unpack her things, his amusement grew when he stumbled upon a couple of other plushies nestled alongside Flopsy in the box. He pulled out a slightly grumpy-looking Garfield plushie and held it up with an exaggeratedly serious face.

“Alright, what’s the story with this guy? A spirit animal or just a partner-in-crime for your Monday struggles?” Nick asked, smirking.

Chas chuckled. “That’s Garfield, obviously. He’s iconic! And, yes, we share the same energy on Mondays.”

Nick pretended to nod sagely. “Makes sense. Lazy, sarcastic, and loves lasagna—sounds a lot like me, honestly.”

Chas rolled her eyes, laughing. “Exactly. You’re practically twins.”

Next, Nick reached into the box and pulled out a quirky plush octopus with a reversible face—happy on one side and angry on the other. He flipped it back and forth a few times, studying it as if it were a great mystery.

“And who’s this little guy? Mr. Mood Swing?” Nick teased.

Chas grinned. “That’s Mr. Octopus! I use him to show my mood. Happy side for good days, angry side when people annoy me.”

Nick flipped it to the angry side, holding it up to her face with mock horror. “So, how many times do you use this on me?”

Chas burst out laughing. “Every day, Sinclair. Every day.”

Nick chuckled, tossing the octopus lightly onto her bed. “Well, I’ll be sure to keep him on the happy side. Don’t want to get on Mr. Octopus’s bad side.”

As they continued unpacking, Nick's playful jabs at her beloved plushies made Chas laugh harder than she had in weeks. Despite the initial awkwardness of moving in, these small, silly moments slowly chipped away at the tension, leaving Chas feeling unexpectedly at ease.

Nick's lighthearted jokes eased Chas's initial nervousness. He picked up a bag of skincare products and squinted at the endless rows of bottles and tubes.

“Is this a beauty store in a bag? What do half of these even do?”

Chas giggled, taking one of the bottles from him. “This one’s for moisturizing, this one’s for toning, and that one’s sunscreen. You know, basic stuff.”

Nick nodded seriously, then pointed to another bottle. “And this one? Magic potion to summon flawless skin?”

Chas burst out laughing. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Nick smiled at her reaction, glad to see her relaxing. “Good to know. I might steal it if it works.”

Chas grinned. “I’ll let you borrow it—if you behave.”

As Nick helped Chas unpack her things. Chas opened a small bag and started pulling out an assortment of colorful hair clips, headbands, and a few scrunchies, each one a different shade of pastel or bright neon. Nick raised an eyebrow, holding up a sparkly pink scrunchie.

“What is this? The entire accessory aisle of a department store in one bag?” he joked, shaking his head with a smirk. “Is this for your hair or for some sort of mini circus act?”

Chas laughed, holding up one of the headbands. “Hey, those are essential! You never know when you need the perfect one for the right outfit.”

Nick continued to rummage through the bag, pulling out a clip shaped like a giant bow. “This one looks like it could take flight,” he teased, holding it up to his own hair. “Should I start wearing this to get in touch with my inner fashionista?”

Chas rolled her eyes, playfully snatching it from his hands. “Stop making fun of my hair accessories! These are important.”

But as Nick continued to pull out more clips, hair ties, and headbands, Chas couldn’t help but laugh at how absurd it all looked in his hands. He looked like he was holding a collection of miniature, colorful weapons.

“It’s just a lot of things I like to have, okay?” Chas said, smiling sheepishly. “But I’ll admit, it’s a bit much. I promise I don’t wear them all at once.”

“Ah, so it’s a fashion emergency kit,” Nick quipped, grinning. “I’m learning so much about you already. Next thing I know, you’ll be pulling out a glittery backpack and a bunch of temporary tattoos.”

Chas laughed harder, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

But the teasing was lighthearted, and each silly joke made her feel a little more at home in Nick's space. She was starting to see that it wasn’t just about the things she had packed — it was about the ease and comfort of being herself around Nick. And even though he was poking fun at her accessories, there was a warm affection in the way he looked at her, a feeling that would grow even stronger over time.

As they continued unpacking, Nick's eyes landed on a stack of platform boots and chunky heels neatly tucked away in one of Chas's boxes. His grin widened as he pulled out the first pair of black platform boots and held them up, clearly impressed by their height.

“Okay, these… these could be a serious hazard,” he said, teasing her. “Are you planning on joining a rock band or just trying to reach the top shelf without a ladder?”

Chas chuckled, rolling her eyes as she snatched the boots from his hands. “They’re for style, Jack. You wouldn’t understand.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Right, right. Because nothing screams ‘I’m fashionable’ like walking in shoes that could potentially break an ankle.” He laughed, holding up the chunky heels next. “And these! Are you secretly an acrobat, or do you just enjoy defying gravity?”

Chas laughed along, shaking her head. “I like a challenge. Plus, they make me taller.”

“Uh huh, I can see that. But I’m pretty sure these could double as weapons,” Nick said, pretending to examine the heels with exaggerated seriousness. “Like if you ever needed to fight off a villain or something. One good kick, and they’re down.”

“Nick!” Chas giggled, playfully swatting at him. “Stop it, you’re making them sound dangerous!”

“Dangerous? I’m just saying, with those heels, you could rule the world. You’d be like a superhero, ‘The Stiletto Avenger’ — with a cape made of glitter and sequins,” Nick teased, giving her a wink.

Chas couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the ridiculous image of herself as a “superhero” in platform boots. But before she could say anything, Nick pulled out a pair of Doc Martens from the box, his eyes lighting up.

“Okay, okay, these I can get behind,” Nick said with mock seriousness. “You’ve got the classic tough-girl vibe with these.” He pretended to inspect them. “Are these your go-to ‘don’t mess with me’ shoes?”

Chas grinned. “Exactly. These are for when I need to stomp on anyone’s bad attitude.”

“Nice,” Nick said, nodding approvingly. “Well, if you’re ever looking for a sidekick, I think we’re going to need a matching pair of boots.”

Chas laughed, tossing a Doc Marten boot in his direction. “I knew you’d like those. You’re welcome.”

Nick caught it with ease, still grinning. “I’ll take them over those platform boots any day,” he said. “But I gotta admit, I’m still a little scared of your heels.”

“Smart choice,” Chas said, playfully giving him a wink. “You don’t want to get on my bad side when I’m wearing these.”

The teasing continued, each playful comment breaking down more of the initial awkwardness, and soon, the room felt full of comfort and laughter. Nick's jokes may have been poking fun at her choices, but Chas loved how easy it was to be herself around him, even if it involved chunky heels and platform boots. It was moments like this — filled with laughter and light teasing — that made her feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

By the time they were done, the awkwardness that lingered earlier in the day had almost disappeared. Nick sat back on his heels, watching Chas arrange some books on her shelf.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “for someone who packs light, you sure brought a lot of personality with you.”

Chas turned to him, smiling softly. “Is that your way of saying thanks for letting me crash here?”

Nick shrugged, his lips quirking into a smile. “Something like that.”

The air between them lightened with laughter and banter, a dynamic that felt surprisingly natural despite the newness of their arrangement. Chas's initial apprehension about moving in had been replaced with a growing sense of comfort, and Nick's warmth and humor made it easier than she’d imagined to settle into the unfamiliar space.

Chas placed Flopsy, Garfield, and Mr. Octopus on her nightstand, arranging them like old friends ready to stand guard. Nick watched her with an amused grin, leaning against the doorframe.

“You know,” he said, crossing his arms, “with this lineup, I feel like I should introduce myself formally. ‘Hi, I’m Nick. New housemate. Occasional cook. Potential victim of Mr. Octopus’s wrath.’”

Chas laughed, smoothing Flopsy’s ears. “They’re a tough crowd, but I think they’ll approve of you. Just don’t mess up breakfast.”

“Oh, the stakes are high,” Nick teased, straightening up. “I’ll make sure to impress. Pancakes tomorrow, then?”

Chas raised an eyebrow. “You’re offering pancakes? That’s bold for day two.”

“Consider it a peace offering,” Nick said with a wink. “Or a bribe. Whichever works.”

Chas smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest. “Deal. But no raisins in the batter. That’s a crime.”

Nick laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Noted. No raisin crimes in this house.”

As Chas turned back to her unpacking, Nick lingered for a moment longer, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just amusement—it was something quieter, softer. She felt his gaze and glanced over her shoulder.

“Something on your mind, Sinclair?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Nick shook his head, his smile easy. “Just thinking you’re settling in better than I expected.”

Chas tilted her head, curious. “What did you expect?”

He shrugged, pushing off the doorframe. “I don’t know. Maybe more awkward silences or passive-aggressive territory battles over fridge space.”

Chas chuckled, her shoulders relaxing. “Well, don’t get too comfortable. I haven’t staked my claim on the top shelf yet.”

Nick smirked, heading toward the kitchen. “Good luck with that. Top shelf’s mine, Honeydew. Always has been, always will be.”

Chas rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. As she placed the last of her things on the shelf, she realized that maybe, just maybe, living with Nick wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

And just like that, Chas realized that maybe living with Nick wasn’t going to be as intimidating as she thought.

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After unpacking her things and getting a little more comfortable in Nick's house, Chas decided to freshen up before lunch. She took a quick shower and then slipped into her favorite pink pajama dress, a simple yet adorable piece with little ruffled sleeves and a bow at the neckline.

When she came downstairs to the kitchen, where Nick was busy plating the pasta he had just cooked, he turned around and paused for a moment.

“You know,” Nick said with a teasing smile, “most people wear, I don’t know, actual clothes during the day. But you? Rocking the ‘sleepover princess’ vibe already.”

Chas laughed nervously, smoothing down her dress. “What? It’s comfy! Besides, you said it’s just us, so why not?”

Nick chuckled, setting the plates on the table. “Fair point. It suits you. But don’t be surprised if I start calling you Pink Pajama Princess from now on.”

Chas rolled her eyes but smiled, taking her seat at the table. “Well, at least you’re not calling me something worse.”

As they settled into their meal, Nick couldn’t help but occasionally glance at Chas, amused by how effortlessly she seemed to fit into his home. Despite her initial nervousness, her playful energy and that cute pajama dress made the atmosphere lighter, as if she’d always belonged there.

The clinking of forks against plates filled the room as Nick and Chas sat across from each other at the dining table. After her polite thanks for the meal, an awkward silence lingered between them. Both were focused on their pasta, clearly unsure how to bridge the gap between them.

Nick glanced up briefly, catching Chas's eyes before she quickly looked back down. He set his fork down, exhaling lightly, and decided to take the first step.

“So… is it as good as you expected, or are you planning to spit it out the moment I turn my back?” he asked with a faint smirk.

Chas blinked, startled for a moment, then chuckled softly. “It’s actually good. I was kind of worried, though, not gonna lie. Rock stars don’t exactly have a reputation for being amazing cooks.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, pretending to look offended. “First of all, I haven’t been a ‘rock star’ in a long time. Second, I’ll have you know I’m a master of two things—writing songs and cooking pasta. That’s it. Everything else, I wing.”

Chas’s laugh was lighter this time, less guarded. “Well, you’ve nailed the pasta, so I guess I’ll have to trust you on the songs.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “You guess? That’s kind of brutal, don’t you think?”

Chas shrugged, playing along. “I call it cautious optimism.”

The tension began to lift as Nick continued to steer the conversation. “So, what’s your go-to comfort food? Because if we’re going to survive this arrangement, I need to know how to bribe you.”

Chas's eyes sparkled as she tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm, definitely mac and cheese. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate.”

“Noted,” Nick said with mock seriousness. “Stockpiling mac and cheese and chocolate to keep the peace. Got it.”

Chas laughed again, the sound warmer and more genuine this time.

From there, the conversation began to flow more easily. Chas asked Nick about the layout of the house, and Jack shared funny anecdotes about his first attempts at renovating it.

At one point, Nick admitted, “Honestly, I haven’t had anyone else here like this in a long time. It’s… strange, but not bad. You’re not bad.”

Chas smiled softly, sensing the vulnerability behind his words. “Well, you’re not bad either. This whole setup is… definitely not what I expected, but it’s not as weird as I thought it’d be.”

By the time they finished their meal, the awkwardness had faded, replaced by a tentative sense of comfort. Nick cleared the plates, but Chas followed him to the sink, insisting on drying them.

“You really don’t have to help,” Nick said, glancing at her.

“I know,” Chas replied with a small smile. “But I want to. Call it a thank you for not burning the pasta.”

Nick chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Fair enough. But don’t get used to it—I usually only cook on special occasions.”

“Noted,” Chas said, grinning.

As Nick wiped his hands on a dish towel and turned toward Chas, he noticed her leaning against the counter, absentmindedly tracing a pattern on the drying rack with her finger.

“Alright, Pink Pajama Princess,” he teased, “what’s next on your royal agenda? Nap? Dethroning me in my own house?”

Chas smirked, crossing her arms. “Actually, I was thinking of exploring this place. You said there’s a library here, right? Or was that just a ploy to sound cultured?”

Nick chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not a library, exactly. Just a room with a lot of books. But I’ll take the compliment.”

“Perfect. Lead the way, then,” Chas said, her excitement barely masked.

Nick grabbed a nearby keychain hanging from a hook on the wall. “There’s a catch. The door’s locked.”

Chas tilted her head, intrigued. “Why? Got some ancient scrolls in there or something?”

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Something like that. You’ll see.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Nick led Chas down a short hallway to a sturdy wooden door. He inserted the key, turned it with a soft click, and pushed the door open, revealing a cozy, dimly lit room lined with shelves that reached the ceiling. The scent of aged paper and polished wood greeted Chas immediately, a sharp contrast to the modern design of the rest of the house.

“Welcome to the heart of my house,” Nick said with a touch of theatricality, stepping aside so Chas could enter.

Chas’s eyes widened as she stepped inside, taking it all in. The walls were lined with bookshelves, stuffed not only with novels but also records, framed photographs, and small trinkets. In one corner, a vintage turntable stood on a low cabinet, surrounded by stacks of vinyl. A plush armchair, draped with a knit blanket, was positioned by the window, and a floor lamp cast a soft glow over the room.

“This is… incredible,” Chas murmured, running her fingers lightly over the spines of the books. “It’s like something out of a movie. I didn’t peg you for the literary type, though.”

Nick smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, I contain multitudes. It’s mostly music-related stuff, but there are a few surprises here and there. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He walked over to one of the shelves and pulled out a well-worn paperback. “First edition of The Catcher in the Rye. Don’t ask me why I kept it—I read it in high school and hated Holden Caulfield. But hey, everyone says it’s a classic.”

Chas chuckled, taking the book from him and flipping through the yellowed pages. “I think it’s mandatory to hate him. What else have you got?”

Nick set the book back and moved to another section. “Okay, here’s the good stuff.” He pointed to a cluster of records in sleek black sleeves. “This is my vinyl collection. Original pressings of Fleetwood Mac, Bowie, and Springsteen. And over there—” he gestured to the turntable “—is where the magic happens. You into vinyl?”

Chas shook her head, smiling. “Not really. I mean, I think it’s cool, but I’ve never owned a record player. My taste is more… digital.”

Nick rolled his eyes in mock disdain. “Of course it is. Gen Z and your Spotify playlists.”

She laughed and shot back, “Hey, it’s convenient. Not everyone has a whole room for their hobbies.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded with a chuckle. “But one day, I’ll convert you. Vinyl sounds better—warmer. Trust me.”

Chas wandered over to a framed photograph on a lower shelf. It was an old picture of Nick on stage, mid-performance, with his bandmates behind him. He looked younger, his hair longer and wild, his face a mix of focus and exhilaration.

“You miss it?” Chas asked softly, glancing up at him.

Nick hesitated, his smile dimming slightly. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But it’s a different life now. Quieter. I like that.”

Chas nodded, sensing that this was a subject he didn’t often discuss. To lighten the mood, she gestured toward a nearby shelf filled with CDs and DVDs. “Okay, what’s this? A secret collection of embarrassing movies?”

Nick grinned, following her. “Oh, you’re gonna love this.” He pulled out a case and handed it to her. The Princess Diaries.

Chas burst out laughing. “You? You own this?”

“Hey, don’t judge,” Jack said, feigning offense. “It’s a classic. And Julie Andrews is a queen. Literally.”

Chas shook her head, laughing as she set the case back. “You’re full of surprises, Nick.”

As they continued exploring, Nick showed her a collection of songwriting journals, a shelf dedicated to mythology and folklore, and even a small section of children’s books.

“These were for my kids,” he said, his tone softening. “I used to read to them before bed whenever they stayed over. Where the Wild Things Are was their favorite.”

Emma stopped in her tracks, turning to Jack with wide eyes. “Wait, so you’re a dad? This whole time?”

Nick sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I am. I’ve got two sons—Izzy and Tobby. Me and Their mom, Sheri, and I were married. We didn’t make it, but we have them.”

Chas blinked, trying to absorb the unexpected revelation. “Izzy and Tobby. How old are they?”

“Izzy's seven, and Tobby's five,” Nick said with a faint smile. “They’re good kids. A handful sometimes, but they’re my boys.”

Chas leaned against one of the bookshelves, her expression softening. “You don’t really talk about them. Is it… hard to bring up?”

Nick shrugged, crossing his arms. “It’s not that I’m hiding them or anything. It’s just… complicated. Sheri and I split up a while back, and they live with her most of the time. I get to see them whenever I can, but it’s not as often as I’d like.”

Chas hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “That must be tough. Not getting to see them every day.”

“It is,” Nick admitted, his voice tinged with quiet sadness. “Especially when I think about everything I missed when they were little. Sheri and I tried to make it work, but… my career got in the way. Touring, recording, all that—it pulled me away from them.”

Chas studied him for a moment, noting the vulnerability in his eyes. “But you’re still a part of their lives, right? I mean, they know how much you care.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, I’m doing my best to be there for them now. Izzy's into football, so I go to his games when I can. Tobby loves art—he’ll spend hours sketching. I try to show up for the big moments, even if I can’t be around all the time.”

Chas smiled softly. “They’re lucky to have you. And it sounds like you’re doing everything you can for them.”

Nick looked down, his expression thoughtful. “I hope so. They’re the best thing I’ve ever done. No matter what else I’ve messed up, at least I got them right.”

Chas's gaze lingered on him for a moment, her tone gentle. “You’re a good dad, Nick. I can tell just by the way you talk about them.”

Nick met her eyes, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence as Chas let the weight of Nick's words settle. For the first time, she felt like she was truly beginning to see a different side of him—one filled with love, regrets, and a fierce devotion to his sons.

By the time they circled back to the center of the room, Chas had a newfound appreciation for the space—and for Nick. She plopped into the armchair by the window, looking up at him. “This might be my favorite room in the house.”

Nick leaned against a nearby shelf, crossing his arms. “Well, don’t get too comfortable. I might have to charge you rent for hanging out here.”

Chas grinned. “Deal. As long as you let me borrow a few books.”

He smiled back, the ease between them growing with every passing moment. “Alright, Princess. You’re welcome here anytime.”

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Their first ever Dinner Prep together

The soft clatter of pots and pans echoed in the kitchen as Nick opened the fridge, scanning its contents. “So, Chas,” he called over his shoulder, “are you a ‘let’s order takeout every night’ kind of person, or can you actually cook?”

Chas stood at the counter, examining a cutting board Nick had set out for her. “Excuse me, actually cook? I’ll have you know I make a mean instant ramen,” she teased, tying her curls into a loose bun.

Nick turned around, smirking. “Impressive. What’s next, scrambled eggs?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Hey, I can follow recipes. I just never really had a big kitchen to mess around in.” She glanced around his spacious kitchen, with its sleek countertops and pristine appliances. “This is, like, a dream kitchen. Are you sure you even use it?”

“Fair point,” Nick admitted, leaning against the fridge. “I’m usually more of a takeout guy myself. But I thought we could make dinner together tonight. You know, as a housewarming… bonding thing.”

Chas raised an eyebrow, amused by his choice of words. “Bonding thing, huh? Sounds like someone’s trying too hard.”

Nick grabbed a bag of vegetables from the fridge and set them on the counter with an exaggerated flourish. “Fine, then. I’ll do the cooking, and you can sit there and look impressed.”

“Not a chance,” Chas shot back, stepping closer. “What’s on the menu, Chef Nick?”

“Something simple. Stir-fry and rice. Sound good?”

Chas nodded, rolling up her sleeves. “Alright, teach me your ways.”

As Nick washed the vegetables, Chas busied herself measuring out rice and rinsing it under the tap. She squinted at the shiny rice cooker on the counter. “Okay, how does this thing work? Is there a button I press or…?”

Nick glanced over, amused. “You’ve never used a rice cooker before?”

“Nope,” she admitted, poking at the buttons like they might bite. “I’m used to boiling it the old-fashioned way. This feels too high-tech.”

Nick stepped behind her, leaning slightly to point at the buttons. “Here. Just press this, and it does the rest.”

Chas turned her head to look at him, realizing how close he was. For a second, she froze, catching the faint scent of his cologne. She quickly turned back to the rice cooker, her cheeks warming. “Got it. Thanks.”

Nick didn’t seem to notice her flustered reaction and returned to chopping vegetables. “You’re a fast learner,” he said lightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chas muttered, setting the rice cooker to work. “What’s next, boss?”

“Chopping,” Nick replied, sliding the cutting board toward her. “Think you can handle the bell peppers without slicing your fingers off?”

“Please,” Chas scoffed, grabbing a knife. “I’ve got this.”

The Chaos of Cooking

Five minutes later, Nick leaned against the counter, watching in mild horror as Chas’s “perfectly diced” bell peppers turned out to be uneven chunks.

“I thought you said you’ve got this,” he teased, holding back a laugh.

Chas glared at him, tossing a piece of pepper in his direction. “Don’t judge me! It’s not about how they look—it’s about how they taste.”

Nick caught the flying pepper mid-air, popping it into his mouth. “Fair enough. But maybe next time, leave the chopping to me.”

“Noted,” Chas grumbled, setting the knife down.

They worked side by side, Nick expertly sautéing the vegetables while Chas managed the sauces. At one point, she accidentally poured too much soy sauce into the pan, earning a dramatic gasp from Nick.

“Chas! That’s like a gallon of soy sauce!”

“Oops,” she said, biting back a laugh. “Guess we’re having extra savory stir-fry tonight.”

Nick shook his head, smiling despite himself. “If this turns out edible, it’ll be a miracle.”

Dinner is Served

Eventually, they plated their somewhat chaotic creation and sat down at the dining table. Chas took a bite, her eyes widening.

“Okay, not to toot my own horn, but this is actually pretty good,” she said, grinning.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Your own horn? I did most of the work!”

“Excuse me,” Chas retorted, pointing her fork at him. “I was the one who poured the soy sauce that saved this dish.”

Nick chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. You get partial credit.”

They ate with easy conversation flowing between them, their earlier nerves from the afternoon completely gone.

Nick leaned back in his chair, holding his glass of water. “So, how would you rate our first homemade dinner together? Be honest. I can take it.”

Chas pretended to think, chewing thoughtfully. “Hmm. Well, the veggies are cooked perfectly, the rice is fluffy… but someone went way overboard on the soy sauce.”

Nick almost choked on his water, laughing. “Oh, I went overboard? You were the one pouring like it was a free sample at the supermarket.”

Chas grinned, pointing her fork at him. “That’s called flavor. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Nick rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, Master Chef, I’ll give you that. But next time, I’m putting you in charge of dessert instead. Safer that way.”

“Dessert, huh?” Chas leaned forward, smirking. “You mean like a microwave brownie or instant pudding? Because that’s where I truly shine.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Nick replied, shaking his head.

As they continued eating, Chas glanced at Nick, a curious expression on her face. “So, what’s the deal with you and this house? You live alone, but it’s big enough for, like, five people. Did you always want a mansion, or are you just bad at estimating space?”

Nick chuckled, setting down his fork. “It’s not a mansion. And honestly? I bought it when I thought I’d be settling down for good. You know, big family, white picket fence, the whole dream.”

Chas’s smile softened. “And now?”

He shrugged, his tone lighter. “Now, it’s just me and an overstocked fridge. But hey, at least I can host decent dinner parties.”

Chas raised an eyebrow. “Dinner parties? Is that a regular thing, or is this your polite way of saying you actually don’t cook and just order catering?”

Nick laughed. “Okay, fine, busted. I’m more of a ‘hire someone else to make the food or order a take out' guy . But I guess now that you’re here, I might have a cooking partner. Assuming we survive the soy sauce wars.”

Chas tilted her head, smirking. “Oh, I see. You brought me here just to cook for you. Typical.”

“Exactly,” Nick deadpanned, leaning back with a small grin. “You’ve figured out my master plan.”

The conversation turned more personal as the meal went on.

“What about you?” Nick asked, twirling his fork absentmindedly. “What’s your big dream? Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

Chas blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Oh. I guess… I’ve always wanted to be a psychologist. You know, help people. Maybe have my own practice someday.”

Nick nodded, genuinely interested. “That’s impressive. You’ve got the drive for it, I can tell.”

Chas smiled, her cheeks warming. “Thanks. What about you? What’s your big dream?”

Nick hesitated for a moment before answering. “I guess… I just want to get back to making music that matters. Something I’m proud of. And, I don’t know, maybe figure out this whole ‘life balance’ thing along the way.”

Chas tilted her head. “Life balance?”

He gave a small smile, his tone tinged with self-awareness. “Yeah. I spent so much time chasing the next gig, the next paycheck… I kinda forgot how to just live. You know?”

Chas nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “Yeah. I get that. Sometimes, it feels like everyone’s rushing to the finish line, and you’re just trying to keep up.”

“Exactly,” Nick said, meeting her eyes. For a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them.

By the time they finished eating, the plates were empty, and the air between them felt lighter.

Nick stood and started gathering the dishes. “Alright, I’ll do the dishes. You cooked, after all.”

“Technically, we cooked,” Chas corrected, standing up and grabbing a glass. “So I’ll help.”

Nick grinned. “Fine. But if you break a dish, you’re officially banned from the kitchen.”

Chas gasped in mock offense. “I’m offended. I’ll have you know I’ve only broken, like, three dishes in my entire life.”

“Famous last words,” Nick teased as they headed to the sink, their laughter filling the kitchen once more.

-------------------------------------------------------

As the evening settled in, the soft glow of the living room lamp lit the space, complementing the quiet hum of the TV. Nick and Chas sat at opposite ends of the couch, an unspoken distance still hanging between them.

Nick reached for the remote and flipped through channels aimlessly before stopping on a random sitcom. The canned laughter filled the room, but neither of them seemed fully focused on the screen.

“So…” Nick started, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “Are you one of those people who can’t sit still during a show, or can you actually relax and watch something?”

Chas smirked, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I can relax just fine. Unless it’s boring. Then I’ll start asking too many questions.”

Nick chuckled, leaning back. “Good to know. I’ll keep my explanations ready, just in case.”

The conversation started slow, but Chas's natural curiosity began to peek through. She glanced around the room, taking in the subtle decor. “So, is this… your style? Or did someone help you set this place up?”

Nick raised an eyebrow, following her gaze. “What? You don’t think I can have decent taste?”

Chas bit back a grin. “I mean, it’s not bad. Just very… neutral. I don’t see any personality here. No awards on the walls, no embarrassing childhood photos. It’s like a catalog house.”

Nick laughed at her bluntness. “I guess I like things simple. Besides, I’m not one to plaster my own face on the walls. That’s just… weird.”

“Fair point,” Chas admitted, tilting her head thoughtfully. “But I still think you need a little color in here. It’s too… serious.”

“Oh, great,” Nick teased, “I invite you to stay, and you’re already redecorating my place.”

Chas laughed, her shoulders relaxing as the banter continued.

As the sitcom played on, they fell into a comfortable rhythm of light chatter. At one point, a particularly cheesy joke on the show made Chas snort, which sent Nick into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, I didn’t expect that sound,” Nick said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Chas groaned, covering her face. “I can’t help it! It caught me off guard.”

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Nick teased, his smile softening.

Chas shrugged, her expression playful. “Maybe. You’ll just have to find out.”

The sitcom continued to play in the background, its cheesy humor blending with the warm atmosphere of the living room. Chas had finally relaxed, her posture more casual as she leaned against the armrest, her legs tucked beneath her. Nick stretched out, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his gaze shifting from the screen to her.

“Chastin,” Nick began suddenly, his tone thoughtful. “I’ve been meaning to ask—your name. It’s… unique. Chastin Honeydew.”

Chas’s brows rose slightly, and a small, amused smile tugged at her lips. “Let me guess. You’re about to say what everyone says.”

Nick grinned, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, guilty. But seriously, it’s kind of a cool name. Odd, sure, but in a beautiful way.”

Chas chuckled, brushing her curls away from her face. “Yeah, I get that a lot. People are always like, ‘Is that really your name, or is it your gamer tag?’” She shook her head, laughing. “Nope, it’s my actual name.”

Nick leaned forward slightly, intrigued. “So, where did it come from? Does it mean something?”

Chas’s smile softened as she traced an invisible pattern on the couch cushion. “Carol—said my biological parents were the ones who gave it to me. She has no idea why they chose it, though. Sometimes I feel weird about it, like it’s too much, you know? But other times… I’m kind of proud of it. It’s different. Memorable.”

Nick nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It definitely stands out. Honestly, I like it. Has this… melodic vibe to it, like it could be a song title.”

Chas rolled her eyes, smirking. “Sure, let’s add that to your next album. ‘Chastin Honeydew,’ an instant hit.”

Nick laughed. “Hey, don’t tempt me. I might just write it.”

Chas tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “What about your name? Nick sounds normal enough, but is that short for something?”

Nick smirked, leaning back. “Oh, here we go. My full name’s Nicholas David Sinclair. Not exactly groundbreaking, right? Definitely no ‘Honeydew’ in there to spice it up.”

Chas laughed, shaking her head. “No offense, but yeah, your name is kind of… generic. Like the hero in every rom-com ever.”

“Wow,” Nick said, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Chas teased, her grin widening.

As the banter subsided, Nick’s tone grew softer. “You know, I think your name suits you. It’s like… it matches your energy. Unique, a little unexpected, but definitely memorable.”

Chas blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” she said, her smile more genuine now. “I guess it does feel like me, in a way. I mean, I’m kind of all over the place, so… it fits.”

Nick chuckled. “All over the place, huh? That’s one way to put it. But I think you’re just… full of surprises. In a good way.”

Chas shrugged, her expression playful. “Maybe. You’ll just have to stick around to find out.”

Nick met her gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I plan to.”

For a moment, the room fell quiet, save for the canned laughter from the TV. The space between them didn’t feel so vast anymore, a subtle warmth settling in its place. The playful exchanges and honest conversation had woven a delicate thread of connection, and as the evening wore on, that thread only grew stronger.

As the night grew later, Chas let out a small yawn, leaning slightly into the couch. Nick noticed and turned the volume down.

“You can crash early if you want,” he offered. “Long day and all.”

Chas shook her head, stifling another yawn. “I’m fine. It’s… nice, actually. Just sitting here. Feels normal.”

Nick's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. Normal’s good.”

For the first time that day, the distance between them didn’t feel so wide. Though they were still two people navigating an unexpected situation, the quiet laughter and shared moments hinted at a connection waiting to grow.

-------------------------------------------------------

As the night deepened, Chas finally retreated to her new room. It was cozy and of course more spacious than her cramp dorm room , the pale blue walls bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp Nick had left on for her. The bed was neatly made, the scent of fresh linen faintly in the air. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, letting out a long breath as she glanced around.

It was quiet here, quieter than she was used to. No faint murmurs of other kids whispering in their bunks, no distant hum of Robert’s late-night news programs, and no comforting creak of the stairs signaling Carol checking in on everyone before bed.

Chas lay back on the bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t worrying about how to make rent or . It was strange—not having that constant weight pressing on her shoulders. Instead, there was this new feeling. A tentative hopefulness. A chance for something better.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought about the kindness Nick had shown her. Moving in with him had felt like such a leap, but so far, he had been nothing but patient and welcoming. Maybe this really was the fresh start she needed.

But as the quiet of the room settled around her, memories began to surface. She thought of the orphanage, of the warmth it had always carried despite the chaos of so many kids. She missed the sound of her siblings laughing, the teasing arguments over who got the last slice of cake, and the way Carol and Robert could make any bad day seem bearable with a hug or a simple word of encouragement.

Her chest ached as she remembered the nights she had sat with Carol in the small kitchen, sharing her fears about the future. Those nights had felt safe, like nothing in the world could go wrong as long as Carol was there.

Her thoughts began to drift, turning to the endless pressures she faced now. College loomed large in her mind—assignments, exams, and the constant fear of failure. She worried about whether she could handle it all, about whether she deserved this new opportunity Nick had given her.

Then there was work. The long hours at the café weighed on her more than she liked to admit. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion of being on her feet all day or dealing with difficult customers or coworkers ; it was the way the stress of it lingered, following her home and invading her thoughts when she tried to study. The balancing act of trying to stay afloat in college while earning enough money to cover her expenses left her feeling drained. Sometimes, it felt like she was running on empty, with no end in sight.

And then, as always, her thoughts wandered to him. Martin. It had been months since they broke up, but the sting was still there. She could still picture the way he had looked at her, the way they used to laugh together, the promises he made. Promises that, in the end, hadn’t mattered.

Now he had someone new. Someone prettier, someone better. The thought gnawed at her, and she hated herself for caring so much. But it was hard not to. Hard not to wonder why she hadn’t been enough.

The familiar heaviness pressed on her chest as tears began to slip from the corners of her eyes. She didn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, she let them fall silently, soaking into the pillow beneath her head.

This was her nightly ritual—the overthinking, the tears, the ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain. She hated it, but it was the only way she knew how to cope.

Eventually, the tears slowed, her breathing evened out, and the weight on her chest began to lift just enough for her to drift into sleep. Her last thought, before the darkness claimed her, was a quiet prayer for strength—for the courage to let go of the past and embrace this new chapter.

Even as her heart ached and the exhaustion of the day clung to her, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would be a little brighter.

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