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She’s been coming to see Nick more frequently now. What had started as one night turned into two, then three. She used to know how many times she’d come to see him. Now she’s lost count.
The visits themselves were becoming habitual now too. She’d slip out of the house once Rita turned in for the evening and sneak back in at midnight, during the Guardian shift change. But tonight, there’s snow falling and Nick’s body is warm and welcoming, like lying next to a fireplace, and even though midnight is fast approaching she knows she isn’t ready to tear herself away.
Not yet.
And somehow, she knows if she decides to stay, it wouldn’t even be a question. Nick wouldn’t mind.
With her free hand, she pulls his threadbare quilt tighter around her body, sighing contentedly as she nestles her head against his bare shoulder, pressing her body closer against his side. His fingers start to trace slow circles on her back as she adjusts against him, their legs tangling under the quilt, and her mind is made up. She’s not going anywhere. She finally allows her heavy eyelids to flutter closed and she’s just about to slip into sleep when it happens.
Her stomach grumbles.
She ignores it, all too used to the feeling of going to bed unsatisfied after picking at her meager dinner, hoping Nick will do the same. But he doesn’t. She feels him shift under her, his head rising up from the pillow, eyebrows knitted together in concern as he looks down at her.
“You ok?”
June nods, eyes still closed, hoping if she plays it off, Nick will just lay back down.
Unfortunately, she’s not that lucky. Her stomach betrays her and it happens again, louder this time. Now Nick zeroes in on what’s wrong and he sits up.
“Hungry?”
She sighs as her eyes finally blink back open, meeting his concerned gaze. “No… well yes, but…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t need food, the hunger pangs will pass. Right now, she needs him . “I’ll be fine. Lay back down.” Nick doesn’t look convinced and she sighs, pulling herself up so she’s sitting next to him.
She shrugs. “I’m used to it. It’s okay,” she says, dismissing the topic, expecting that to be the end of it. But Nick’s eyes remain trained on her, heavy with concern. Suddenly he shifts, leaning over towards his bedside table.
“You should eat something.”
He pulls out the drawer and June peers over to see inside. A lighter, his watch, a government-issued Bible, and a picture that looks like it’s been through hell and back of two young dark-haired boys sitting at a picnic table. Immediately, she can tell the smaller of the two boys in the photo is Nick– the mop of dark curls on his head and shy, tight-lipped smile giving him away. Is the older boy a brother? A cousin? She doesn’t know, but the thought of learning even this small nugget of information about him gives her a rush so intense she barely notices him wiggle the base of the drawer loose, revealing another small stash of valuables, hidden under a false bottom.
“Help yourself,” Nick says, leaning back against the headboard, inviting her to look.
She scans the contents and she’s not surprised to find more than just food in his stash. Inside, there’s a small collection of black market goods— loose pills in an assortment of shapes, sizes, and colors; a Swiss Army knife; a handful of mini liquor bottles; almonds; chocolate chips. Oranges.
Oranges. From the kitchen.
June’s eyes go wide as she reaches for one.
“Rita said she was missing some of these.”
Nick’s eyes sparkle mischievously as June turns back to look at him, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a sly smile.
“She thought the Commander took them. She was ready to kill him.” She pauses for a moment, rolling the orange around in her hands, considering her last statement. “Kind of wish she had,” she murmurs, earning an even bigger smile and a chuckle from Nick in response. And all at once, the same rush from before returns as she notices the way his eyes wrinkle in the corners when he really smiles. Learning about him, what makes him laugh, is an addictive drug. The more she gets, the more she wants.
She clears her throat as she finally manages to tear her gaze away from his, leaning forward again to drop the orange back in the drawer. She knows he’s gotta have something better.
She lifts up the corner of a magazine and gasps when her eyes land on a familiar cellophane package. Her jaw drops as she plucks the item out of its hiding place.
“Oh my God,” she breathes out, turning to face Nick, holding up the package of Zebra Cakes. “How the fuck do you have these?”
“There’s a black market for everything. Even snacks,” Nick quips with a quick shrug of his shoulders as June looks down at the packaged snack cakes, turning them over in her hands. She hasn’t had these since she was in high school, but she can still taste the sugar and vanilla, and her mouth waters .
She licks her lips before drawing them together in a pout as she looks back up at Nick. “Are they still good?”
Nick shrugs again. “I don’t know. But I think they’re like Twinkies, they never expire.”
She glances back at the drawer, noticing that there’s not another package. This is the last, or maybe only , one he has. Maybe he was saving them for himself. As much as she wants them, she can’t take them. They’re his. Who knows what he traded to get them. Resigned, she shakes her head and leans over Nick to drop them back in the drawer.
She’ll just have the orange, he has plenty of those, and she knows he can get more.
But Nick seems to read her mind like he always does. Before she’s even had a chance to pick up an orange, he’s pulled the Zebra Cakes back out of the drawer, offering them back to her. “Take them.”
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “They’re yours .”
He shakes his head, pushing his drawer closed, his decision final. “They’re yours now.”
Her stomach grumbles again, the gnawing hunger overriding her ability to fight back. She takes the package and rips into it eagerly, her eyes closing as she savors the sugar, the creme filling, the vanilla frosting, the hint of chocolate from the zebra stripes. It’s all she can do to keep herself from moaning. She doesn’t know if it’s just the hunger or the fact that she hasn't had anything this sweet in years, but they’re somehow better than she’d remembered.
As she finishes chewing the first bite she opens her eyes and looks at Nick, sitting patiently next to her, eyes trained on her, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.
“Still good?” He asks and she nods. Silently, she holds out the package with the remaining cake in it, wanting to share the experience with him. He shakes his head.
“Nick,” she’s exasperated, wagging the second treat at him, insisting. “Come on. There are two of them. I’m supposed to share.”
He shakes his head again, his mind is made up.
“You’re hungry. I want you to have them,” he says sincerely. And in his tone, she hears the underlying message. He won’t take the cake because it makes her happy. It provides her some sense of satisfaction that she can’t find otherwise. It’s the same reason he never asks her to leave, and why he keeps welcoming her back over and over again.
He wants to help. He wants her to be happy. As happy as she can be, and he won’t withhold anything from her.
She pulls the package back and quietly finishes the first cake and then the second, up until the last bite. She hesitates for a moment and then turns to Nick. He’s already given her so much, and she’s determined to return the favor.
“Open,” she orders, holding the bite up to his lips. His eyes flick to hers and the conversation is quick but silent. It’s not up for debate. She won’t back down.
His lips fall open and she pops the last bite in his mouth, laughing when some of the creme filling sticks on his bottom lip.
She watches intently, waiting for him to finish chewing, and then, without warning, she leans in and quickly kisses the lingering sugar off his lips before pushing him back against the mattress and settling in with him again, pulling the covers up around them both.
“Thank you,” she whispers against the bare skin of his chest, falling into a completely sated sleep safe and warm against his side.