from the heart

"I’m wearing special pleather leggings, and I’m tellin’ the troof—” [ Nataly laughs, watching the shiny material swish-swish in the light of the sun. It’s windy outside, though, so she’s not sweating nearly as much as she thought she would. ] "This sucks! I’m normally so good at gyrating around like a booty dancer.” [ Tentatively, the blue-haired girl starts again. ] "This sucks baaaaaaaalls!"

"Are you having a booty-block? Rhythm crisis?" [ Does she dare? Nadia stops to wipe her sweaty forehead and greedily gulp down a swig of water. ] "----maybe it's all the...I can't assume what you and Ed get up to." [ Hands come up so fast that she nearly drops her bottle. ] "Not that anything is getting up. I'm just saying  that maybe you are...distracted and you've been booty---I'm just going to drop it. Right there."

He rolled his eyes at her gaping and tried his best not to grin. “Oh, right, sure, your songs are a gift to the world, but when I play Foreigner just a little too loud, suddenly it’s like the worst thing ever.” He said, his tone filled with a mock-exasperation. He missed bantering with Nadia. Hell, he missed most things about Nadia. She had a tendency to make the weight in his head feel lighter and much more airy, which was a feeling that he had been lacking a lot since their last few encounters. It’s true, in that time, Barrett had figured out a lot about carrying his own burdens and growing up, but the feeling of lightness he felt around Nadia was still one he craved.

"----hold on there. You'll give me pigeon pickings." Nadia says, slowly prying one of the plates from Barrett's hands,other hand pulling away the saran wrap cover on a bowl of creamy mashed potatoes. "And I am a growing girl, so---" She spoons a helping and a half of the smooth potatoes onto the plate. "---my order from cocina de Karofsky will be three ribs, a lice of cornbread, two sausages, collard greens. As a start. Oh, and gravy." 

"I hate dancing. I literally hate dancing so much." [ Nataly moans through an entire faux-ballerina turn, fucking around for the umpteenth time because this move is literally impossible.] “I know I said I’d have this move down by—” [ She checks the plastic watch on her wrist, snagged from a Happy Meal ] “—fifteen minutes ago, but I was wrong. I give up!”

"Liar, liar, liar-----why are your leggings not on fire?" [ Nadia sings as she completes a new turn, hands up and hips tracking the motion along with her; a bit of a body wave of sorts, combined with a circling move Moira had 'lifted' from an English choir routine. ] "Nataly, you can dooo it. You can dooo it. Come ooooon." [ Nadia's voice continues until it starts carrying over the deck and the yard She puts a little rhythm to it. Injects a little soul. ] "Nataly you can dooo-oooooh-ooooh thiii--iiiiiiis."

"I saw your browser history."

He couldn’t help the grin that snuck onto his face at the recollection of the memory - the first time he ever met Nadia Jones. “I was six!” He defended, throwing his hands up. “Three syllables were a lot and I always liked Dia better!” He glared mockingly at her. “And you were not minding your own business, Miss ‘I’m going to sing loud enough for the whole damn city to hear!” Okay so she had been quietly singing to herself and he’d been drawn to it… so what? And so what if after that, he’d gone inside and proudly told Hal that he met the neighbor and her name was Dia and she was gonna marry him, only to get relentlessly teased about it. (Hal still doesn’t let him forget it. It’s one of the few things that legitimately makes him blush like a dumbass)

She gapes, "Sara Bareilles' hit single Gravity is a joy and a gift to the world. I was gifting it to Lima.... Before you went and interrupted me. Super, super rude." She crossed her arms then, leaned back against the fridge and mulled over their situation. Their situation. An essential piece to the episodic tween dramedies that Moira watched day an day (they'd seeped into Nadia's own tastes, eventually earning spots beside Million Dollar Listings: London) ."I'll argue that you didn't owe me anything. Forever."

“No one’s called me that in a while——I… I missed it.” Have you ever been punched directly in the gut by words? Because for a few seconds after that sentence, Barrett felt exactly the same as he did when his linemen missed a block and a defensive end came barreling through the line and lit his ass up during football season. It was hard to breathe for a second or two. “Does no one else call you that..?” He managed to ask once his breathing was back in order. For some reason, I missed that in his head was equating to I miss you and fuck he couldn’t handle that right now.

"My brother---once?" And she had promptly told Olson to shove it, far and deep into his mouth and never, ever utter it again---she'd even leveled a secret at him (how he always drank all the cranberry juice before anyone else got it) to keep in that way. "But I remember---Oh, wow, that was so long ago. You were almost...falling off the edge of the fence." Or clinging to it? She could see it from one of the kitchen's windows.The fence, repaired over the years, that split their property from the Karofsky's. "I was outside. Minding my own business," The smile wouldn't keep away, and so she hid it behind her hand---fingers pressed over trembling lips until she spoke again."And this little boy asks my name. 'Dia? No, it's Na-di-ah. That's what I said! 'Dia."  It had stuck. Forever. In her mind (and her heart). 

Barrett would be lying if he said that he hadn’t imagined having this impending conversation with Nadia before. Generally, in his head, it happened a bit differently, though. It had gone many different ways… but at no point, had he imagined he’d bump into her in his living room with his arms filled with grilled meat. And if Barrett Karofsky was anything, he was smooth as fuck. He always knew what to say, how to handle situations, and what to do to smooth things over.

"No one's called me that in a while----I... I missed it." Was offered as she grabbed a plate piled with briskets, and another with hot dogs.Clearing her throat, she added, "Alright. Let's find a place for these before the wolves descend." Oh, and how they would later on, she had no doubt. The homey side of the feast spread through every door, and window; every crack in the wood and break in the wall, and allowed the kitchen to feel warm, and comforting. Even so, with such an overpowering presence of family, Nadia's head focused on 'Dia, Dia, Dia.'  It was almost giddy---and wasn't that dumb? Wasn't that a bit of a childish fantasy? She'd be eighteen soon enough.

Almost as soon as he caught sight of her, Barrett whipped his head back around to the grill (okay so MAYBE there was like a split second where he stared because Nadia Jones was so physically perfect that he couldn’t even beg— wait, what were we talking about again? Right. Back to the point. Definitely wasn’t staring.) Blue eyes stayed glued to the grill in front of him. Shit. How had he not prepared for this? Of course she would be there. She was his neighbor, after all. But still… he wasn’t quite prepared to deal with the deep aching in the pit of his stomach that sounded a lot like 'you're a coward.' and looked a lot like tears in the eyes of Nadia Jones.

Life hated her, or rather God went about sending messages in increasingly difficult ways. Its always been hard for her, and the sounds in the house added to that; they made everything overwhelming. When Barrett appears, arms laden with freshly-grilled meats, the voices were louder, her focus become lost---And why in the hell did it smell like food, apart from the insane amount already on the tables,----He was carrying something. Right. "Oh, the burgers! I mean," She pushed the chair back a bit, standing up and away. "That smells----great." 

Barrett pressed the bottom of his spatula against one of the many hamburger patties that lay across the Karofsky grill, causing it to hiss. It’s true, Barrett lacked a lot of culinary skills, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was manning a grill. It was a skill he’d picked up early… because if you knew anything about Lima, you knew that Karofsky barbecues happened often, and were expected to be nothing less than stellar every time.

"Get over yourself, get over yourself---" And step into the god-damn house---Lord, forgive me. It works. Angry mantras were reserved for poor sportsmanship during competition ("Show choir is a bloodsport," Moira sing-songed in her head) and finals. Not for this, but it works. There were people moving in and out of different rooms, grabbing chairs, and bowls and cutlery. It's a miracle she isn't  She moved down the main hallway, which leads right into the open backdoor---and there should've been a needle scratch there because Barrett was within view of the doorway. Working away at the grill.

Where to even begin? The blonde sat in her seat with her vanilla bean drink in her hands, sipping the sweet beverage for courage. Usually the thought of hanging out with Nadia made her sick. Truth be told, she respected the brunette. She was just as driven as Lenora and the two established their role within their group. “—Yeah, well I guess I should start by saying that I’m — sorry.” Her words didn’t come off as forced and false but honest and a bit embarrassed. She had realized how immature she was to everyone in the four years they had together. Instead of sharing moments and experiencing something so special like their Senior year - Lenora spent those moments tearing everyone down, it was just disappointing that it took her so long to acknowledge what she did was wrong. She was growing up.

One. Two. Three--- Seconds are ticking by. There isn't a slap of cold to her face, or a shrill call of 'Gotcha, sucker' to be found. It's interesting, but most of all relieving. Perhaps, a little too much, as Nadia's breath rattles out of her in a small shudder. In lieu of words she takes a long drink and swallows; suddenly slapping her hands over her mouth to avoid the insane burp building at her throat.