9

It was the weekend, and the house had accumulated a fair bit of dust from the busy week. Nick and Chas decided it was time to clean up, but rather than making it feel like a chore, they turned it into a lighthearted event.

Chas, with her natural enthusiasm, was the first to jump in, grabbing a feather duster from the closet and twirling it around. “Alright, let’s turn this cleaning session into a party!” she announced, causing Nick to chuckle from the other room where he was gathering cleaning supplies.

“Do you even know what a party is without music?” Nick teased as he walked into the living room, carrying a mop.

Chas grinned mischievously. “I know just the thing!” She grabbed her phone and started playing an upbeat playlist, the familiar sounds of pop hits filling the house. She wasn’t just mopping the floor—she was performing a full-on routine to her favorite pop diva songs: this time is Kylie Minogue’s songs.

The sound of Kylie Minogue’s upbeat hits filled the house. Chas wasted no time turning the living room into her stage. She danced with the feather duster like it was a microphone, twirling and shimmying to the beat with exaggerated flair. “Better the devil you know\~!” she belted out, dramatically pointing at Nick mid-song.

Nick leaned against the doorway, watching her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Chas, we’re supposed to be cleaning,” he said, though his grin betrayed him.

“I am cleaning!” Chas insisted, sweeping the duster over the coffee table with a flourish before spinning dramatically. “Multitasking, Nick. Learn it.”

Nick shook his head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Chas shot back without missing a beat, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Nick chuckled, picking up the mop and starting on the kitchen floor. “I don’t know if I’d call this cleaning or an audition for a reality show.”

Chas didn’t miss a beat, switching songs and stepping up her routine. With a mock-serious expression, she dropped into a sliding pose on the floor, nearly slipping but catching herself just in time. She erupted into laughter, her energy contagious.

“That’s it,” Nick said, his own laughter spilling out. “If I join this ‘show,’ it’s gonna be for comic relief.”

Chas grabbed a spare duster and tossed it his way. “Come on, you’re up next! Show me what you’ve got, mop man.”

Nick caught the duster mid-air, shaking his head. “Fine, but don’t blame me when I outshine you.”

Chas crossed her arms, smirking. “Big talk. Let’s see it.”

Nick rolled his eyes but gave in, doing an awkward two-step while half-heartedly dusting a shelf. His exaggerated lack of rhythm sent Chas into a fit of laughter, her voice ringing through the room.

“You’re hopeless!” she teased between giggles, doubling over as Nick tried—and failed—to spin the duster with flair.

“Hopeless but effective,” he quipped, holding up the now-dusted shelf as evidence.

After the playful chaos of their cleaning dance-off, Nick and Chas settled into a more relaxed rhythm. Chas wiped down the dining table while Nick worked on polishing the windows. The sunlight streaming through the glass made everything feel warm and peaceful, a sharp contrast to the laughter-filled madness from moments ago.

Chas, still smiling from their antics, glanced over at Nick. “You know,” she began, her voice carrying a nostalgic tone, “cleaning wasn’t always this much fun. Back at the orphanage, it was kind of a battleground.”

Nick looked over, intrigued. “Battleground? Now that’s a strong word. What happened?”

Chas chuckled, setting down the cloth she was using. “Well, Marcia—one of the older girls, and my closest older sister—and I always ended up on cleaning duty together. And we’d argue. A lot. But not about what you’d think. It wasn’t about who cleaned what or how—it was about who was the best pop diva.”

Nick laughed, leaning on the windowsill. “You’re kidding me. You fought over pop stars while cleaning?”

“Absolutely,” Chas said, grinning. “I was team Kylie Minogue all the way. Marcia, though? She swore by Janet Jackson. Every time we’d be scrubbing floors or dusting shelves, we’d end up in these full-blown debates. Like, ‘Janet’s choreography is iconic!’ and I’d be like, ‘Okay, but Kylie’s voice? Her stage presence? Come on!’”

Nick smirked, clearly enjoying the mental image. “So, basically, your cleaning sessions were secret fan debates.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Chas said, her eyes lighting up. “When we weren’t debating about Kylie and Janet, we’d shift to Little Mix versus Girls Aloud. I was die-hard for Little Mix. Their harmonies? Their energy? Unmatched. But Marcia was all, ‘Girls Aloud paved the way, Chas! Respect your elders!’”

Nick laughed so hard he nearly dropped the cloth in his hand. “She said ‘respect your elders’?”

Chas nodded, laughing along. “She really did! And it didn’t stop there. We’d drag Cindy, one of the younger kids who's also close to us like a younger sister, into it. Poor Cindy just wanted to avoid drama, but we’d be like, ‘Cindy, you have to pick. Who’s better: Kylie or Janet? Little Mix or Girls Aloud?’”

“And what did Cindy say?” Nick asked, grinning.

Chas shook her head, laughing at the memory. “She’d try to be diplomatic. She’d say something like, ‘Um… both?’ And we’d groan like she just committed the ultimate betrayal. Marcia would be like, ‘You’re so indecisive, Cindy!’ and I’d say, ‘No loyalty, Cindy, no loyalty!’”

Nick leaned against the wall, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “You were such a little terror.”

“Me?!” Chas feigned offense, placing a hand on her chest. “Marcia was the terror! I was just defending my taste.”

Nick shook his head, still smiling. “You two must’ve driven everyone else at the orphanage insane.”

“Oh, totally,” Chas said, grinning. “But looking back, those silly arguments were some of the best memories I have. It made cleaning—well, tolerable. And Cindy eventually got wise to us. She’d bribe us to stop arguing by offering to do extra chores if we just left her out of it.”

Nick laughed, picturing it all. “Smart kid.”

“The smartest,” Chas agreed. She leaned back against the table, her expression softening. “It’s funny, though. Back then, those arguments felt so important, like they were these big, life-defining battles. But now, I just look back and laugh. I guess it’s little things like that that made the orphanage feel more like home.”

Nick stepped closer, resting his hand on her shoulder. “You know, I think I would’ve been on your team. Kylie and Little Mix? No contest.”

Chas raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, really? That’s suspiciously convenient.”

“What can I say?” Nick teased, his tone light. “I have excellent taste.”

Chas grinned, reaching for the feather duster and pointing it at him like a microphone. “In that case, better the devil you know, huh?”

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “I walked into that one.”

As they resumed cleaning, the house was filled with a mix of Kylie’s hits, laughter, and memories. It wasn’t just cleaning—it was another layer of their story being written, one playful moment at a time.

As the nostalgia lingered in the air, Nick leaned on the mop handle, his expression softening. “You know, hearing you talk about your orphanage days reminds me of my childhood,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Chas looked up from where she was reorganizing the bookshelf. “Oh, yeah? Were you and Simon big chore champions back in the day?”

Nick chuckled, shaking his head. “Not exactly. My parents believed in ‘teamwork,’ but with Simon being older, he always found a way to delegate the hard stuff to me. He’d say, ‘Nick, you do the dishes while I supervise.’”

Chas laughed. “Sounds like Simon was a natural-born manager.”

“Or a natural-born slacker,” Nick quipped, rolling his eyes fondly. “But, to be fair, we did have some fun. Like, one time, my mom left us in charge of cleaning the living room while she went out to run errands. Instead of just getting it done, Simon turned it into this ridiculous competition.”

Chas’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “A competition? What kind?”

Nick leaned against the wall, his grin widening. “He made it a race. We each got a section of the room, and the challenge was to clean it the fastest without missing a single speck of dust. Of course, he ‘assigned’ me the side with all the cluttered bookshelves while he took the easy part—vacuuming the open floor.”

Chas gasped, mock scandalized. “That’s so unfair!”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Nick said, laughing. “When my mom came back, Simon convinced her that he’d done most of the work, and she gave him extra dessert that night.”

Chas burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. “No way! And you just let him get away with it?”

Nick shrugged, grinning. “What could I do? He was my older brother. But I got my revenge later.”

“Oh, do tell,” Chas said, leaning forward eagerly.

“There was this one time we were supposed to clean out the garage,” Nick began, his tone conspiratorial. “Simon left halfway through to hang out with his friends, so I took all the stuff he was supposed to sort and piled it on his bed.”

Chas gasped, covering her mouth. “Nick! That’s diabolical!”

Nick laughed, his shoulders shaking. “He deserved it! And when my mom saw it, she made him clean the garage by himself the next day.”

Chas clapped her hands, delighted. “Justice served! I love it.”

Nick nodded, still smiling. “Looking back, though, those chores were more about spending time together than anything else. Even when Simon was being a pain, those were the moments that made us close.”

Chas tilted her head, her expression softening. “That’s sweet. Sounds like you and Simon had a lot of fun growing up.”

“We did,” Nick admitted, his voice tinged with warmth. “And it’s funny how those simple things—like cleaning the house or arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes—end up being some of the best memories.”

Chas nodded thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand. “It’s the same for me. Even when Marcia and I were at each other’s throats over pop divas, or when Cindy got caught in the middle, those little moments are what I cherish the most now.”

Nick gave her a small, knowing smile. “I guess it doesn’t matter where or how you grow up. It’s those small, silly moments with the people around you that stick with you the most.”

Chas smiled back, her heart full as she turned to dust the last shelf. “You know what, Nick? I think you’d get along with Marcia. She’d totally team up with Simon to gang up on us during chores.”

Nick laughed. “Oh, no doubt. But don’t worry, I’d have your back.”

With the room finally spotless, they stood back to admire their work. It wasn’t just a clean house they’d achieved—it was another layer of understanding between them, built on shared stories, laughter, and a growing sense of home.

By the time they finished, the house was spotless, though neither of them felt like they’d been working. Instead, it felt like one of those rare days when everything just… clicked.

As Nick wiped his hands on a towel, he glanced at Chas, who was busy fixing her playlist. Her energy had slowed, but her smile remained as bright as ever.

“Thanks for making cleaning tolerable,” Nick said, his tone light but sincere.

Chas glanced up, feigning offense. “Tolerable? Nick, this was legendary.”

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, legendary. I’ll give you that.”

Chas grinned, leaning back on the couch as Kylie’s voice faded into the background. “You know,Nick,” she said, her tone softening just slightly, “I think we make a pretty good team.”

Nick leaned against the mop, looking at her thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “We do.”

The unspoken weight of their words hung in the air, but neither of them moved to address it. Instead, they let the moment linger, filled with nothing but the warmth of shared laughter and the satisfaction of a job well done.

As they moved from room to room, Nick couldn’t help but notice how natural everything felt between them. The playful banter, the shared moments of laughter, and the comfort they found in each other’s company made the day feel less like work and more like a bonding experience.

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

Upstairs, the house still had its fair share of work to do. Nick headed toward his home studio, a space he hadn’t properly organized in months, while Chas went to tackle her own room. As they split off, the music continued to play faintly from the living room, filling the air with upbeat energy.

Nick in His Home Studio

Nick opened the door to his studio, immediately greeted by a mess of guitar cables, sheet music, and a stray tambourine rolling across the floor. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “How does this even happen?” he muttered to himself, stepping over a pile of papers.

As he started sorting through a stack of old song lyrics, he called out, “Chas, are you winning over there, or has the dust taken you hostage?”

From her room, Chas yelled back, “Winning, obviously! My room is practically a palace compared to your chaos dungeon.”

Nick laughed, shaking his head. He carefully untangled a microphone cable, but as he bent down, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye—a tiny spider crawling on the edge of a shelf.

“Oh, no,” Nick muttered, grabbing a tissue and carefully approaching the creature like it was a wild animal. “You picked the wrong studio, mate.”

Chas in Her Room

Meanwhile, Chas was wiping down her desk, humming along to the music. She opened a drawer and stumbled across an old scarf she’d left there. Wrapping it around her neck, she struck a pose in front of the mirror. “Nick, you’re not ready for this level of fashion!” she called out, laughing.

But as she turned around, a sudden creak from behind the door made her freeze. Her eyes darted toward the closet. Did something move in there?

She tiptoed toward it cautiously, holding her feather duster like a sword. “Alright, if there’s a monster in here, just know I’m trained in combat… sort of.”

She yanked the door open dramatically—only to find a mess of shoes and coats. Rolling her eyes at herself, she muttered, “Get a grip, Chas.”

The Studio Prank

As Nick finished organizing his keyboard, he decided to check on Chas. On his way out, he spotted a fake snake he’d used as a stage prop years ago, tucked in a corner. A mischievous grin spread across his face.

Moments later, Nick knocked lightly on Chas’s door. “Hey, need any help in there?”

Chas opened the door, eyebrow raised. “Help? From the guy who couldn’t even fold his own lyric sheets? I think I’m good.”

Nick shrugged, stepping inside with his hands behind his back. “Just thought I’d check—” Before he could finish, he whipped out the fake snake and held it toward her.

Chas let out a piercing scream, jumping back onto her bed. “Nick! What the—oh my God, you jerk!”

Nick was doubled over laughing, holding his sides. “You should’ve seen your face! Priceless!”

Chas grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “You’re the worst!” she shouted, though she couldn’t hide her own laughter.

Chas’s Revenge

A few minutes later, Chas decided it was time to get back at Nick. She crept into his studio, spotting him crouched by his guitars, completely engrossed in wiping down the strings.

Quietly, she slipped behind him and grabbed a nearby tambourine. Raising it over her head, she shouted, “BOO!” and shook it furiously.

Nick jumped so high he nearly hit his head on the shelf above him. “What the—Chas!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

Chas collapsed into a fit of giggles, clutching her stomach. “That’s what you get for the snake, mister big shot rocker!”

Nick glared at her playfully, then sighed dramatically. “Fine, truce. But you’re washing the tambourine now—it’s got your evil fingerprints all over it.”

Bonding Amid the Chaos

As the cleaning continued, their playful banter carried on. Chas found an old stack of Nick’s CD Demos and insisted on listening to one while they worked, making him cringe at his early vocal style. “You sounded like a baby goat,” she teased, earning an exaggerated groan from Nick.

By the time they finished, Nick’s studio sparkled, and Chas’s room was perfectly organized. They collapsed on the couch upstairs, out of breath but grinning.After hours of cleaning, laughter, and pranks, Nick and Chas found themselves sprawled on the couch in the upstairs lounge. The house was spotless, but the day’s fun had left them both comfortably worn out.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” Nick said, stretching his legs.

“Yeah,” Chas agreed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “We make a good team.”

Nick glanced down at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. “We do,” he said quietly, the weight of the day’s laughter and shared memories making him feel closer to her than ever.

Chas leaned her head back, eyes closed, while Nick fiddled with a stack of CDs she’d unearthed from a dusty corner of his studio. Among them was one particular case that stood out—a stark black-and-white cover with the bold title Human Racing. He smiled softly, running a thumb over the edges of the case.

“Alright,” Nick said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Since you’ve already mocked my baby goat vocals, maybe I should redeem myself with this.” He held up the CD like it was a prized artifact.

Chas opened one eye, curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

“This,” Nick began with mock grandeur, “is my breakthrough debut album. Human Racing. It came out ten years ago and was kind of a big deal—at least for me.”

Chas sat up, snatching the CD from his hand to inspect it. “Ten years ago?” She squinted at the minimalist artwork and the tracklist on the back. “Oh, I think I’ve heard one or two songs from this! Wait…” She paused, her eyes narrowing as she tried to piece it together. “Oh my God! You’re that guy?”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. What guy?”

“The guy who was everywhere that year!” Chas laughed, holding the CD like it was a relic. “I remember seeing your music video play on TV. My older brothers used to talk about you all the time.”

Nick smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I had my moment, I guess.”

Chas leaned back again, grinning. “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly know you, y’know? I mean, I was ten back then.”

Nick blinked. “Ten?”

“Yeah, ten,” Chas said matter-of-factly. “While you were out there making angsty ballads about heartbreak, I was…what? Playing Just Dance and trying to convince my best friend I could do a perfect cartwheel.”

Nick burst out laughing. “Wow. Thanks for making me feel ancient, Chas.”

She waved a hand dismissively, grinning mischievously. “Oh, come on. It’s not my fault you’re a senior citizen in disguise. Now, are you gonna play it, or are you too scared I’ll roast you again?”

Nick rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “Fine, but you’d better show some respect. This album put me on the map.”

As the opening notes of the first track played, Chas listened intently, occasionally nodding in approval. Despite her teasing, it was clear she was genuinely impressed.

“You know,” she said as the chorus swelled, “I can see why this was such a hit. It’s good.”

“Good?” Nick feigned offense. “It’s great.”

Chas chuckled. “Okay, okay. Great. I mean, for someone who wasn’t on Just Dance, you did alright.”

Nick shook his head, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

By the time the album ended, they were both quiet, basking in the nostalgic mood the music had brought. Nick glanced at Chas, who was still holding the CD, looking thoughtfully at the cover.

“Hey,” she said softly, “ten or not, I’m glad I know you now.”

Nick smiled, leaning his head back against the couch. “Yeah. Me too.”

Chas turned the CD case over in her hands, inspecting every detail. Her eyes landed on the cover—a black-and-white photo of a much younger Nick. His hair was dyed platinum blonde, styled into a perfect blowout, with every strand seemingly placed with purpose. He wore a sharp grey tailored suit, his expression brooding and intense, like he was gazing into the soul of whoever looked at the album.

She bit back a laugh but couldn’t resist commenting. “Oh my God, Nick,” she said, holding up the cover. “This is you? The platinum blonde era?”

Nick glanced over and cringed slightly. “Yeah… that was a thing.”

“A thing?” Chas snorted. “This wasn’t just a thing, this was a moment! Look at you—Mr. Serious Rockstar in a fancy suit. Did you spend more time on your hair than your lyrics?”

Nick chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, the label had a lot of say in my look back then. The suit, the hair—it was all part of the ‘brand.’ They thought the blonde would make me stand out.”

Chas squinted at the cover, her grin growing wider. “You look like you just stepped out of a high-end shampoo commercial. Did you have to, like, bleach it every week?”

“Something like that,” Nick admitted with a groan. “It was a nightmare to maintain. I don’t know how I put up with it for two years.”

Chas shook her head, clearly amused. “I can’t believe this. You were only 25, and you looked like you were running a Fortune 500 company and a boyband at the same time.”

Nick laughed, reaching over to gently pull the CD from her hands. “Alright, alright, let’s not overanalyze my fashion choices from a decade ago. It was the style.”

“Sure, sure,” Chas teased, leaning back on the couch. “But I have to admit… you looked good.”

Nick glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re complimenting me?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “I mean, it’s still a little over-the-top, but yeah, you pulled it off. Very rockstar-meets-Vogue.”

Nick shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Well, I’m glad you approve, ten-year-old Chas.”

She laughed, throwing a cushion at him. “Don’t make me regret saying that!”

They sat there for a moment, the laughter fading into a comfortable quiet as the nostalgia settled between them. Chas glanced at the cover again, this time with a softer expression.

“You know,” she said, her tone more thoughtful now, “I can see how this was such a big deal for you. You really worked for it. I mean, I can only imagine how hard it must’ve been to get to that point.”

Nick nodded, his smile turning more reflective. “Yeah, it was a whirlwind. But looking back now, it’s kind of surreal. I’ve changed so much since then—what I care about, how I see success. It’s not all about the image anymore.”

Chas leaned her head on his shoulder, holding the CD case close to her chest. “I think that’s a good thing. I like this Nick a lot better anyway.”

Nick glanced down at her, warmth spreading in his chest. “Yeah?”

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. This Nick doesn’t need platinum blonde hair to stand out. You’re already unforgettable.”

Nick leaned back on the couch, letting out a chuckle as he took the CD case back from Chas. “You know, the platinum blonde phase was just the beginning of my… let’s call it my hairstyle journey. The things I’ve done to my poor hair over the years…”

Chas raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, now this I’ve got to hear. Spill it, Rockstar.”

He smirked, pointing to the platinum blonde cover photo. “Alright, so we’ve established this was year one—platinum blonde, sharp suits, and far too much hair product. It worked for the look, I guess, but maintaining it? A nightmare. My scalp still hasn’t forgiven me.”

Chas laughed, picturing him sitting in a salon chair for hours. “I can’t believe you survived that. What came next?”

“Year two,” Nick said, rubbing his chin as if recalling a distant memory. “Brunette mullet. I don’t know what possessed me—probably someone on my team convincing me it was edgy—but I grew out the back and kept it shorter on top. I looked like I was trying to join an ’80s rock tribute band.”

Chas doubled over laughing. “A mullet? Nick, I need pictures of this. Please tell me you have proof.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing along. “Oh, there’s proof. But good luck finding it—I’ve buried those photos deep.”

“Challenge accepted,” she teased, wiping away a tear from laughing so hard. “Okay, what about year three? Did you stick with the mullet?”

“Nope,” Nick replied with a grin. “Year three and four, I went for the clean-cut look. Short, neat brunette hair. You know, to show everyone I was ‘maturing’ as an artist. I wanted to look serious and professional, which mostly meant I just looked boring.”

Chas tilted her head, considering. “I bet you still pulled it off. But what’s next? Tell me you tried something wild again.”

Nick groaned, running a hand through his current hair. “Year five and six… I decided to grow it out. Still brunette, but longer this time. Think ‘wannabe grunge artist meets stressed indie singer.’ It was a mess—never quite long enough to look intentional, but too long to manage. I was always tucking it behind my ears like a schoolboy.”

Chas covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh no, I can’t picture that. You with long hair? Did you at least rock a man bun?”

“Thankfully, no,” Nick said, shaking his head with a laugh. “It was too uneven for that. By the seventh year, I gave up and decided to go back to something normal. I went for a brownish blonde—closer to my natural color but easier to maintain. I’ve stuck with this ever since.”

Chas leaned closer, examining his hair playfully. “So this is the final form of Nick Sinclair, huh? No more experiments?”

He smiled, brushing a strand out of his face. “No more experiments. I’ve learned my lesson. Besides, I’m not 25 anymore—I don’t have the patience for all that upkeep.”

Chas tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know, I think I’d love to see you try the mullet again. Just for old time’s sake.”

Nick groaned dramatically. “Don’t even joke about that.”

She grinned, poking his shoulder. “Oh, come on. It’d be hilarious. You could bring it back in style!”

“No way,” he said firmly, though his laughter betrayed him. “I’m done with hair experiments. But thanks for reminding me of all my past mistakes.”

Chas leaned against him, smiling warmly. “Hey, I think it’s cool. Shows how far you’ve come, you know? From mullets to mature, handsome Nick.”

Nick glanced at her, his expression softening. “Mature, huh? I guess I’ll take that.”

She smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head, Rockstar.”

Chas leaned against the edge of Nick’s desk, her fingers absently playing with a strand of her red-brown hair. “You know,” she began, her tone thoughtful, “growing up in the orphan house, I always felt… different. I mean, most of the kids there were white—blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin—and then there was me, with my Filipino and Latin roots. Caramel-colored skin, jet-black curly hair. I stood out like a sore thumb.”

Nick’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze soft. “Did that bother you?”

Chas shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Not really. If anything, the other kids actually loved it. They thought I looked exotic, unique. I was like their little doll sometimes. They’d play with my hair, beg me to show them how my curls worked. It was… kind of sweet, actually.”

Nick chuckled. “Sounds like you were the star of the orphan house.”

She laughed softly. “Not quite. But I guess I did have something they didn’t. My curls were my thing, you know? And as much as I loved it, there were times when I didn’t really know what to do with it. That’s where Marcia came in. She was my rock when it came to my hair. She’d sit with me for hours, helping me detangle it, style it, make it look presentable.”

“Marcia,” Nick repeated, leaning forward. “She’s the sister you’re closest to, right?”

Chas nodded, her smile growing warmer. “Yeah. She was a lifesaver in so many ways. When I turned seventeen, she took things a step further and helped me dye my hair brunette. It was the first time I’d ever changed it, and it felt like this huge transformation. Like I was finally stepping into who I wanted to be, not just the ‘unique’ kid with wild hair.”

Nick grinned. “So, brunette Chas was born.”

“Exactly!” she said with a laugh. “Marcia made it a whole event. She was so excited, more than I was, honestly. And that wasn’t the last time she helped me. Anytime I wanted to switch things up—whether it was a new style or color—she was always there with her brushes and her advice.”

Nick reached out, gently brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “And now we have this red-brown phase. Which, by the way, suits you perfectly.”

Chas smirked, leaning into his touch. “Thanks. I feel like this color is… me right now. It’s bold, it’s fun, and maybe just a little bit extra.”

Nick laughed, his hand dropping to his side. “A little extra, huh? That’s the understatement of the year.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Hey, don’t act like you’re any less dramatic. I saw those platinum-blonde photos from your early days.”

Nick groaned, throwing his head back with a laugh. “Why is that haunting me today?”

“Because it’s hilarious,” Chas teased, her grin widening. “But seriously, we’ve both come a long way, haven’t we? From the wild curls and platinum blondes to where we are now. It’s been a journey.”

Nick nodded, his smile softening as he met her gaze. “It has. And I wouldn’t change a thing about where we ended up.”

Chas felt her heart warm at his words, her fingers absently playing with her hair again. “Neither would I, Nick. Neither would I.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning Chas with a soft but playful smile. “You know, you really do have this… striking look. Exotic, but in this completely effortless way. It’s like you walked out of a painting or something.”

Chas raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “Are you hitting on me, Nick?” she teased, twirling a strand of her red-brown hair.

Nick chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just saying what’s true. I mean, the caramel skin, the curls, the whole vibe—it’s hard not to notice.”

Chas placed a dramatic hand on her chest, as if deeply moved. “Well, thank you, sir. I’m flattered to know that I have the approval of the one and only Nick—you know, the platinum-haired wonder from Human Racing days.”

Nick groaned, laughing. “Okay, okay, you got me. I walked into that one.”

Chas tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know, if you keep buttering me up like this, I might start expecting compliments on a regular basis.”

Nick smirked, crossing his arms. “Don’t push your luck.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the room, but as the laughter faded, a comfortable silence settled between them. Chas glanced at Nick, her expression softening. “Thanks, though. I mean it. Growing up, I didn’t always feel… special, you know? It’s nice to hear.”

Nick’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his smile warm. “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re definitely special. And not just because of how you look.”

Chas felt a slight flutter in her chest at his words, but she quickly brushed it off with a playful smirk. “Careful, Nick. If you keep saying things like that, I might think you’re my biggest fan.”

Nick laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

As the moment stretched between them, something subtle shifted. Neither of them could quite put their finger on it, but there was an undeniable spark—a quiet, unspoken connection growing stronger.

Chas broke the silence with a playful grin, her usual energy returning. “Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. I’ve got a floor to mop, and you’ve got, like, ten more shelves to dust, biggest fan.”

Nick laughed, shaking his head as he stood up. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m letting you win this cleaning race.”

“Oh, please,” Chas shot back with a wink. “I’ve been winning since I walked into this house.”

As they returned to their playful banter, the little spark lingered between them, unnoticed but undeniably there.

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In the laundry room, Nick was folding a pile of towels, trying to keep his focus, but Chas had other ideas. She was sorting through clothes, her back to him as she hummed along to the next pop song on the playlist. But suddenly, she let out a dramatic gasp.

“Oh my god,” she said in mock horror, holding up a pair of Nick's old band t-shirts "fusion". “These have to be vintage, right? Like, how old are these? Are you planning to wear them again, or are they just here for the nostalgia?”

Nick looked up, catching her teasing smirk as she waved the shirts in front of him. “Those are from before I even joined the band,” he said, smirking. “I just keep them for sentimental value.”

“Sentimental value?” Chas raised an eyebrow, holding up the faded shirts like they were relics. “You know, they probably still have dust from the early 00s on them.” She pretended to dust one of the shirts and playfully tossed it at him.

He laughed, easily catching it mid-air. “Well, you’re not wrong,” Nick chuckled. “I can’t just toss these. They’ve got character.”

Chas rolled her eyes, leaning against the washing machine. “Character, huh? Well, I guess you and those shirts have something in common. Both extremely full of character.”

Nick grinned, giving her a playful glance. “Hey, these shirts were part of a legendary era. Don’t knock them until you’ve lived it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Chas laughed, teasing him as she held up a pair of his old socks. “And these? Do these have nostalgic value too, or are you just collecting all the socks that went rogue from the dryer?”

Nick raised an eyebrow, pretending to be serious. “Those are the ones that survived. They’re survivors, Chas.”

“Survivor socks, got it.” She shook her head, chuckling to herself. “You really have a whole philosophy about laundry, huh?”

“Of course,” Nick said, a grin spreading across his face. “It’s not just laundry, it’s a lifestyle.”

Chas snorted, clearly amused. “A lifestyle? Are you telling me you have a vision for your laundry?”

“Well, it’s not just laundry. It’s an art form,” Nick teased. “And you’re lucky to be witnessing it.”

Chas playfully slapped his arm, giggling. “You’re ridiculous. I should start a Laundry with Nick YouTube channel. Maybe it’ll go viral.”

Nick grinned. “I’ll join you, but I’m not making any promises about how much people will actually enjoy it. My laundry art isn’t for everyone.”

Chas raised an eyebrow, a cheeky grin on her face. “Oh, it’s for everyone. Trust me.”

As they both laughed and bantered in the laundry room, the playful teasing and easygoing atmosphere made Nick realize just how comfortable they’d gotten with each other. The mundane chore of laundry had somehow turned into one of their funniest, most lighthearted moments together. And despite the sarcasm and silly banter, there was an undeniable warmth between them that made the whole experience feel so effortless and natural.

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After the whirlwind of cleaning, Chas and Nick took a much-needed break, both feeling accomplished as they stood in the doorway of Nick's backyard. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the space. The backyard, with its mix of cozy seating and small garden, felt like a peaceful oasis.

Nick kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto one of the lounge chairs with a relaxed sigh, the soft breeze brushing through his hair. Chas, still in her comfy outfit, flopped down onto the grass next to him, stretching out lazily.

“That was more work than I thought,” she said, laughing softly as she lay back, looking up at the sky. “But I feel so much better now that everything’s organized. It’s like we turned the house into a home.”

Nick turned his head to look at her, his smile warm. “Yeah, you really did a number on this place. I should’ve asked you to move in sooner.”

Chas grinned and nudged him playfully with her elbow. “I’m just here for the snacks and the clean house. But hey, I’m not complaining.”

“You’re a natural at this whole ‘making a place livable’ thing,” Nick said with a teasing tone. “If you ever get tired of your degree, I’m sure you could start your own cleaning business.”

Chas laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I think I’ll stick to my psychology career, thanks. But if you ever need a professional organizer, just say the word.”

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the evening sky now a deep shade of purple. The quiet rustle of the wind in the trees and the distant sounds of the city were the only noises around them, adding to the serene vibe of the evening.

Nick tilted his head back, gazing up at the sky as he spoke again, his voice softer now. “It’s nice, though. Having you here… it feels more like a home.”

Chas looked over at him, her expression softening. She smiled to herself before speaking up. “I feel the same way, honestly. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into when I decided to move in. But it’s… nice. Really nice. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Nick turned his head to meet her eyes, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, me too. And hey, if you ever get tired of me making bad jokes or my music blasting at weird hours, just say the word.”

Chas raised an eyebrow and gave him a mock-scowl. “Well, I can’t promise I’ll be able to put up with your dad music for much longer,” she teased, her tone playful.

Nick raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “I’ll try to keep the Bowie and The Beatles to a minimum for you.”

She laughed, resting her head back on the grass again, feeling the cool evening air on her skin. “You’re alright, Nick Sinclair. You’re alright.”

As they continued lounging in the backyard, Nick suddenly sat up, his eyes lighting up with a playful spark. “You know what? I’ve got an idea,” he said, turning to Chas with an enthusiastic grin. “How about we go grocery shopping together?”

Chas raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. “Grocery shopping? Are you serious? You want me to go grocery shopping with you?”

Nick nodded, leaning back on his hands as he looked at her. “Yeah! It’ll be fun. I mean, we’ve done a bunch of cleaning, we’ve got the house looking great. Now we need to fill it with food, right? Plus, I need someone to help me make sure I don’t buy nothing but chips and cookies.”

Chas chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless, Nick.” But she could see the genuine excitement in his eyes, and the idea of spending more time with him sounded pretty fun. “Alright, you’re on. But only if we can get snacks. Lots of snacks.”

Nick grinned. “Deal! I’m gonna get all the junk food I’ve been hiding from myself, and you can get whatever you want.”

Chas playfully rolled her eyes but stood up, brushing off her pants. “Well, since it’s for the house, I guess I can’t say no. Let’s go make this grocery shopping adventure happen.”

Nick stood up, clapping his hands together as if to mark the start of an event. “Alright, let’s do it! You’re gonna love this. We’ll make a day out of it. Snacks, drinks, and who knows? Maybe some surprises.”

They headed toward the door to get ready, Chas feeling surprisingly excited. As much as grocery shopping seemed like a mundane task, it was moments like these—simple, spontaneous adventures—that made her feel more at home, more connected to Jack. She couldn’t help but laugh as Jack grabbed his keys, looking like he was about to head into a major mission.

“Alright, I’ll let you lead the way, Captain Snack,” she teased.

Nick shot her a playful wink. “You got it. Let’s go get some real food, not just my usual ‘dad snacks’.”

And with that, they headed out the door together, ready to turn an everyday task into yet another fun and memorable moment between

The evening air was cool and filled with the faint hum of crickets as Nick and Chas made their way to the car. Nick swung his keys around his finger, his grin infectious. “You ready for this?” he asked, glancing at Chas as she slid into the passenger seat.

Chas smirked, buckling her seatbelt. “It’s grocery shopping, not a covert mission. I think I can handle it.”

Nick started the car, the low rumble of the engine blending with the faint music from the radio. “You say that now,” he teased, “but wait until we’re in the snack aisle. It’s a battlefield.”

Chas rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’ll make sure to keep you from loading up the cart with a year’s supply of chips and cookies.”

He raised a playful eyebrow. “Don’t underestimate my dedication to snacks. But fine, I’ll allow you to supervise.”

The short drive to the store was filled with their usual banter, Nick flipping through radio stations while Chas mocked his inability to stick with a single song. By the time they arrived, the stars were just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky.

Inside the store, the fluorescent lights illuminated the aisles in a way that made everything seem far more serious than it was. Nick grabbed a cart and immediately started pushing it with exaggerated purpose. “Alright, let’s strategize. Do we start with produce or go straight for the fun stuff?”

Chas tilted her head, pretending to think. “Well, I’d say we should balance the healthy stuff with the snacks. So… snacks first.”

Nick laughed, steering the cart toward the snack aisle. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

As they wandered through the rows of brightly colored packages, Nick's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. “Alright, non-negotiable,” he said, tossing a family-sized bag of chips into the cart.

Chas raised an eyebrow, grabbing the bag to inspect it. “Spicy jalapeño? Bold choice. But I approve.”

She added her own favorites—a mix of chocolate bars and popcorn—earning a nod of approval from Nick. “This,” he said, holding up a box of cookies, “is a classic. You can’t go wrong.”

Chas shook her head, smirking. “You’re like a snack connoisseur. Should I be impressed or concerned?”

“Both,” he replied, grinning.

They moved on to the other aisles, filling the cart with a mix of essentials and impulse buys. Nick insisted on picking out the “perfect” carton of eggs, much to Chas's amusement. “Are you inspecting each one individually?” she teased, leaning on the cart.

“Quality control,” he said seriously, earning another laugh from her.

By the time they reached the checkout, their cart was a chaotic mix of fresh vegetables, frozen pizzas, and an alarming number of snack items. As the cashier scanned their items, Chas nudged Nick. “We’re definitely not eating all this in a week.”

“Who says it’s all for a week?” Nick quipped, grabbing a pack of gum from the display. “This is our ‘just in case’ stockpile.”

They loaded their bags into the car, their laughter carrying into the night as they headed home.

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As they arrived home with their bags of groceries, Nick and Chas quickly got to work in the kitchen, excited to make dinner together. They unpacked the bags, Nick making a show of pretending to be a chef as he pulled out the ingredients, while Chas rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Alright, what’s on the menu tonight?” Chas asked as she sorted through the veggies and pasta.

Nick grinned mischievously. “I was thinking of doing something simple but delicious—spaghetti bolognese. I’ve got the secret sauce, you know.”

“Secret sauce, huh?” Chas raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s not just store-bought?”

He winked. “You’ll have to find out. But first, I need your help chopping these onions.”

Chas sighed dramatically. “Onions? You know I’m going to cry, right?”

Nick laughed. “I have faith in you! You’ve got this.”

As they began chopping and preparing the ingredients, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about everything—childhood memories, their favorite foods, and funny stories about their pasts. Nick shared some wild tales from his early band days, while Chas talked about her more quiet but quirky upbringing in the orphanage. Every story they shared made them feel a little closer, a little more connected.

Once the sauce was simmering and the pasta was cooking, they found themselves leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for dinner to be ready. Nick reached over, playfully stealing a piece of garlic bread from the tray.

“Hey!” Chas protested, but she couldn’t help laughing. “You’re eating our dinner before it’s even done!”

Nick shrugged with a mischievous grin. “A chef needs to taste his work. You know how it is.”

Chas rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of bread for herself. “You’re impossible.”

They continued chatting as they set the table, Jack helping to serve the pasta and sauce, Chas throwing in her own little twists as they went. As they sat down to eat, the conversation became even more relaxed and intimate. They shared stories about their day, their hopes, and even their personal dreams for the future. The topics were wide-ranging, but what stood out was how easily they fell into a natural rhythm, like they had known each other for years.

As they ate, the laughter never stopped. Nick teased Chas about the “over-the-top” way she organized her things, while Chas made fun of Nick's “rockstar” image, claiming that he still had the “rock and roll” attitude even in a quiet home.

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After dinner, they moved to the living room, where Nick set up a playlist of laid-back songs while they curled up together on the couch. Chas, feeling full and content, tucked her feet under her and leaned her head on Nick's shoulder. There was no need for big gestures or elaborate words—they just enjoyed being in each other’s presence. The evening was cozy, and the comfort they felt with each other was undeniable.

“Hey,” Chas said softly, breaking the silence after a few moments. “Thanks for today. This whole… everything. It feels… nice. Really nice.”

Nick smiled, his arm gently around her. “Of course. You make it nice.”

They sat there for a while longer, the world outside fading away as they became more in tune with each other’s company. The evening had turned into one of those quiet, simple moments that made life feel full of possibility, and neither of them wanted it to end. Chas's heart swelled with a warm, content feeling, knowing she was starting to build something real—something that felt like home—with Nick.

As the night grew later, they didn’t want to part, lingering in the comfort of each other’s presence.

The quiet hum of the music filled the room, and Chas, feeling more relaxed than she had in days, slowly drifted off to sleep. Her head rested comfortably on Nick's shoulder.

Nick, on the other hand, stayed perfectly still, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment. He could feel her soft breathing, the rise and fall of her chest against his arm. He knew she was exhausted from her busy days, her job, and all the changes in her life recently. He wanted to let her rest, to give her that peace of mind. Nick just sat there, holding her in his arms, quietly watching over her as she slept. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. There was something so tender and comforting about having her in his arms like this—no words, no need for anything more. Just the simple act of being there, sharing the space together.

The warmth of the evening, the soft glow of the lamp beside them, and the quiet stillness of the house made the moment feel perfect. Nick could hear the faint sound of Chas's peaceful breathing, and it brought him a sense of calm, too. He wasn’t in a rush to move, not wanting to break the calm atmosphere they’d found together. As the night deepened and the music softened into the background, Nick slowly leaned back into the couch, adjusting himself to make sure Chas was comfortable. She shifted slightly in her sleep, but stayed nestled against him, unaware of anything around her.

He didn’t mind the stillness. He didn’t mind waiting for her to wake up when she was ready. For now, he was content to simply be there, holding her close, letting the world go on without them for just a little while longer. The room was wrapped in a cocoon of tranquility, the only sounds being the soft hum of music and the occasional rustle of the breeze outside. Nick sat there, feeling the weight of the moment, a peaceful contrast to the usual rhythm of his life. Chas's presence, her trust in him as she slept so effortlessly, made him feel grounded in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

He glanced down at her, a faint smile lingering on his lips as he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. She looked so serene, her usual energy replaced with a quiet vulnerability. Nick couldn’t help but marvel at how easily they had fallen into this rhythm together—like two pieces of a puzzle that just fit. As the minutes stretched on, his thoughts began to wander. He thought about how she had turned his once quiet, somewhat solitary life upside down. The way her laughter filled the house, the way she teased him about his love for dad music, and the way she managed to make even mundane tasks like grocery shopping an adventure—it all made him feel like he was finally living, not just existing. He remembered the moment she’d first arrived, her uncertainty about moving in, and how quickly that had shifted into a sense of belonging. She had a knack for making a place feel warm and inviting, a skill that had spilled over into their growing bond. Nick felt a spark of something deeper—something he wasn’t sure he could put into words just yet, but it was there, undeniably real.

Chas stirred slightly in her sleep, her hand brushing against his arm, and Nick froze for a moment, worried he’d woken her. But she simply let out a soft sigh and nestled closer, her breath warm against his neck. His heart swelled at the trust and comfort in her movements. For the first time in a long time, Nick didn’t feel the familiar pang of restlessness that used to haunt him during quiet moments like these. Instead, he felt whole, as though he’d found something he didn’t even realize he’d been missing. As the night deepened, the music shifted to a softer melody, wrapping the room in an even deeper sense of calm.

Nick let his head rest back against the couch, his eyes drifting shut as he matched his breathing to hers. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that—minutes, hours? It didn’t matter. What mattered was the feeling, the unspoken connection between them. In that moment, Nick realized something: this wasn’t just a fleeting comfort or a temporary arrangement. This was something worth holding onto, something that felt like it could be the start of something extraordinary. Emma had become more than just a part of his life—she was becoming the reason he looked forward to each new day.

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