The night air chilled Savannah to the bone. It was completely dark out; the street lamps were all shotty and gave off little light, yet another reason why she didn't like to be out so late at night. She hadn't thought to change out of her short, lacy white dress that she'd worn to school that day when Nick had suggested that they check out the evidence vault again after sunset. She may have been freezing cold, but his rough hand pulling her along by her thin wrist made her cheeks hot and her heart beat just a bit faster. The mere idea of sneaking around the station underground after hours gave her butterflies; but she had to remember that they were in fact trespassing, so she had to keep her head on straight.
The investigation of the Madison Mansion was going swimmingly, aside from a few mishaps here and there. Nick had been surprisingly helpful about the whole thing, despite his mixed - more silent than mixed, really - feelings in the beginning. Savannah could hardly believe how far their relationship had pushed since the original encounter in the hallway at Wayward High. After that afternoon with Marc, Andy, and Nick, she'd been almost convinced that none of them would ever talk to her again. But she'd followed her gut the way she always did and practically cornered Nick in the hallway, forcing him to hear her out.
Since then, they'd been practically inseperable, most of their time consumed with the investigation, and well, each other. While Nick, the scruffy boy with the nose ring, looked oddly out of place on the arm of Savannah, the girl in the dress, they walked the halls at school with heads close together, whispering inquisitions and theories about the mystery they were solving. Of course many took the sight as a romantic display, and perhaps Savannah did, too, but as far as she could tell, Nick didn't return the opinion.
It wasn't long before they'd snuck into the police station and made their way down to the evidence locker the way they'd done before. Nick hurried over to the filing cabinet which held the typed version of every report from the present to around 2003. As he was digging through the papers, she pulled the small metal safety deposit box filled with physical evidence from the Madison case down off the top shelf and sat herself down on one of the cold metal rolling tables to search through it.
All of the same things were still in the box: the torn page of Melinda Ward, Marc's sister's, journal that contained nothing of particular importance, Andrew Landon's broken glasses, and a pair of walkie-talkies that the kids used to communicate the night of the disappearance. Savannah sighed, unsatisfied, and looked up at Nick, who was closely examining the papers from the file. She was about to ask him if he was looking for something specifically when he reached up with one hand to scratch his nose for perhaps the ninth time since they'd arrived.
She frowned, wondering for the first time why he was always doing that so much. Honestly, no person's nose could be itching them so much, so frequently. She locked up the safety deposit box with the key that she kept on a chain around her neck and set it down on the table, sliding off and walking over to him. She watched him curiously, grinning slightly when she looked his way.
"What are you staring at?" He asked gruffly, arching an eyebrow.
"Oh, just you," she replied simply. "I grew especially curious just a moment ago, about something that you did." She boosted herself up onto the table that the open file was sitting on and crossed her legs, tilting her head as she observed him. He sighed, setting down the paper he'd been examining; she'd succeeded in catching his attention.
"What did I do?" He inquired, leaning his hands against the table.
"You scratched your nose for the oh, ninth time in the ten minutes we've been in here," she remarked, looking at her left wrist as if she were wearing a watch. "I'm just wondering how your nose could be bothering you so much that you feel the need to scratch it every chance you get. Do you have a nose problem? Some sort of strange affinity for noses? If so, I have to say I'd rather you didn't look me directly in the face. You might scare my nose off."
"So now I'm going to scare your nose off because mine itches?" He smirked, obviously amused by the random inquiry. Savannah had a knack for that.
"You might, if you continue scratching yours. At this rate, you won't have any nose left by the time you're thirty." She smiled, leaning forward slightly and reaching out to touch his nose lightly with the tip of her finger. "It doesn't feel like there's anything wrong with it, I don't know why you abuse it so much. It's just a nose, doing all sorts of...nosy things. Hm, you know when you think about it, if a nose had friends, couldn't it tell everyone everything about you? Then again, that implies that a nose could talk...though when I blow my nose it does make a rather loud wailing noise...why are you laughing?" Nick was chuckling, placing all of the papers neatly back in the folder and put it away in the filing cabinet.
"Nothing, just you," he said. "But if you really want to know, there's nothing wrong with my nose. It's just a habit." She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Well that explanation is less than satisfying," she grumbled. "I was hoping for a little more excitement, maybe you had some kind of parasite up there or something...stop laughing at me!" She said shortly, fighting the goofy smile that was threatening to over-take her frown.
"Seriously, Savannah, it's just a stupid habit," he insisted, holding up his hands in surrender. "Anyway, I didn't find what I was looking for, so we should go." He took her hand and she hopped off the table, following him out of the room and to the stairs.
"Oh," she groaned. "I'm tired, and I hate stairs." She grinned up at him endearingly and he sighed. She queaked giddily, jumping quickly up onto his back and him hooking his arms through the crooks in her knees to keep her there. "Thanks Nicky!" He rolled his eyes and laughed, carrying her up the stairs and out the ally door of the station. When he shut the door with his boot and carried her out of the ally, he felt the sudden need to scratch his nose again. But Savannah knew, and because she knew, she watched his face amusedly. His nose crinkled and his eyes fluttered. "Hold on, hold on," she said quietly, reaching out one hand to scratch his nose with her finger nail. "There. Better?"
Nick smiled a rare smile, but Savannah couldn't see it in the dark. She could hardly see anything in the darkness. She could feel it though, because in that quiet moment, he craned his neck around to give her a soft kiss on her mouth; a smiling, unpracticed kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. And for Savannah, that's all that mattered.