Bittersweet Notes

The Day Waverly Stopped Being Nice.

There was a time when Waverly Earp believed in the simple magic of admiration. A person could glow just by existing; a glance could feel like a gift. And no one in middle school glowed quite like Nicole Haught. If ever a name could be more fitting, Waverly couldn’t imagine it.

Nicole was the kind of girl whose presence bent the air around her, who made even the most ordinary spaces—school hallways, cafeteria benches, cracked pavement outside the gym—feel like the center of the universe. She was in eighth grade, two years older than Waverly. Nicole had bright red hair and the cutest dimple on her left cheek. She had the kind of laugh that made other people want to laugh with her. Waverly was the moon, constantly feeling pulled into Nicole’s orbit, circling her like she was the center of the universe. 

And Waverly wanted to be in Nicole’s universe. She wanted it badly.

At first, it was little things: dressing older, taking an interest in Nicole’s hobbies, lingering near Nicole’s locker just in case she dropped a casual “hey.” Waverly watched her from the edges of every room, memorizing every fine detail about Nicole, what she liked and didn’t like. The way her hands moved across the piano keys when she played, how her eyes sparkled when she laughed, how she hated mayo. Waverly studied her like an archeologist studied a new discovery—with reverence and admiration. 

But Waverly knew admiration wasn’t enough to get Nicole to notice her. She needed an opening, a way in. And then, as if the universe had granted her one, her older sister, Wynonna, started bringing Nicole to their house. The two had been friends, but everything changed when they became best friends.

Like Nicole, Wynonna was two years older than Waverly, and the gap between sixth and eighth grade might as well have been a canyon. She treated Waverly like an afterthought most days and tolerated her as a little sister at best. But Wynonna had Nicole, and Waverly wanted Nicole. 

So, Waverly made a plan.

She spent too long picking out an outfit, settling on a dark jean skirt and layered tank tops in colors that she wasn’t sure matched but hoped looked good. She clipped a pink butterfly into her long, slightly tangled hair. A delicate detail she hoped Nicole would notice.

It was time for her to make her move. 

She found them sitting outside after school, perched on the concrete steps by the gym, laughing like it was the best day in the history of the world. It was the perfect moment, and Waverly was going to seize it. 

“Hey guys!” she chirped, her voice too bright, too eager. She smiled and waved too aggressively, but she couldn’t stop herself. 

Wynonna sighed, barely sparing her a glance. “What do you want, Waverly?”

“I just thought—” Waverly turned to Nicole, summoning every ounce of courage she had. “I saw you guys sitting here and figured I’d join.”

Nicole tilted her head, examining Waverly like one might an unwelcome stray cat. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I heard you talking about the dance next Friday. I was thinking about going.”

Waverly was about to speak, to ask the question she had rehearsed a hundred times — will you go with me?

Wynonna exchanged a smirk with Nicole, a silent joke Waverly wasn’t in on. “Oh my god, Haught Shit, baby girl thinks she can hang out with us at the dance.” She groaned theatrically, throwing her hands up in the air. “Waverly, seriously? What, are you gonna bring your stuffed animals too? Why don’t you go play with your own friends and leave me and Haught Shot alone.”

It wasn’t stuffed animals—plural—it was only one snuggle turtle she may or may not have named Nicole.

Heat crawled up Waverly’s neck, and she could feel her face burning like the sun. She tried to laugh and pretend the words didn’t sting, but Waverly was hurt.

“Look, kid,” Nicole finally said, her voice dripping with amusement. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard, but let’s be real. You’re, what, ten?”

“Eleven,” Wynonna corrected.

“Right. Eleven.” Nicole’s gaze flickered over Waverly’s face, landing on the lip gloss she had applied so carefully just an hour ago. “Your lip gloss is smeared.” She gestured vaguely toward Waverly’s face. “Maybe stick to dress-up and try again when you’re our age, yeah?”

The words sank like stones in Waverly’s stomach. Heavy and hard, trying to drag her beneath the brown dirt under her feet. She fought to keep the tears pooling in her eyes from sliding down her cheeks. She wasn’t winning the war but wasn't finished with the fight. 

Waverly stood there, fingers twitching, willing herself to say something sharp, something that would make them regret their laughter. But nothing came. So she did only what she could—she turned and walked away.

She told herself it didn’t matter. She repeated in her head that she was fine. That it was just a joke. But the words rattled inside her and found places to root and grow. Cute. Kid. Trying too hard. She thought of the smirk on Nicole’s lips, the way Wynonna had so quickly joined in.

She thought of how small they had made her feel.

That night, lying in bed staring at the stained ceiling, Waverly made a decision.

She would never feel that way again.

She stopped following Wynonna, stopped looking for Nicole’s approval like a stray dog waiting to be let inside. Waverly would stop thinking Nicole was cool because she played the piano. Cute kid. If they thought Waverly was just a silly little kid, then she would become someone no one dared to laugh at.

By high school, Waverly Earp had written herself a new story. Gone was the wide-eyed girl desperate to be remembered and liked. In her place was someone sharp, polished, untouchable. She made the cheer team freshman year, she was the captain by her junior year. She learned how to walk into a room and own it and make people lean toward her instead of the other way around. She was class president, prom queen, homecoming queen, the girl everyone wanted to be or be with. The nicest person in Purgatory. 

Waverly had the crowns and sash to prove it. 

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Waverly was the nicest person in Purgatory to almost everyone. 

There was one person she treated like the dirt that had been under the day everything changed.

Nicole Haught. 

Nicole who? She faded into the background. A distant memory. 

Waverly never acknowledged her again. Not in the hallways, not at parties, not even in passing glances. She had spent years wanting to be seen by Nicole Haught.

Now, Nicole wasn’t worth seeing at all.

Waverly stared at the space between shortstop and second base. Her mind wandered to places it did not need to wander, and she was forcing herself to watch the game instead of the ginger goddess currently coaching third base. 

Waverly knew that she never stopped having a crush on Nicole Haught. Who wouldn’t have a crush on the woman? Nicole was still tall, with the same bright red hair and a cute dimple on her left cheek. She had soulful eyes the color of honey. She was sweet like honey, too. Everyone in Purgatory liked her. Nicole was kind and fun. She was a good teacher and volunteered every time someone needed anything. She was an angel on earth, and Waverly loved her for it. 

And Waverly hated Nicole for it, too.

A little growl escaped Waverly’s throat. Nicole still made her so damn grumpy. 

When they were kids, Waverly had trailed after Wynonna and Nicole like a shadow desperate for sunlight. She could admit that now. Back then, her feelings for Nicole had felt like the most significant thing in the world—so vast and all-consuming that when Nicole didn’t return them, it felt like the sky itself had collapsed. It changed Waverly forever.

By the time Nicole finally started to notice her, Waverly was already dating Champ—a decision that had felt less like a dream and more like a slow descent into something suffocating. He didn’t want Waverly to be smart, only pretty. He wanted to do his own thing but always had Waverly waiting for him. But when she told Champ she was pregnant, he ran like the boogeyman himself was at his heels.

Thankfully, dreams had a way of reshaping themselves. Of returning in new forms and angles. And Waverly found hers again—in her little boy's bright, wandering eyes.

Waverly could still vividly picture watching the pregnancy test change from nothing to everything. She had stared at the blank space between the two lines for a long time, knowing her world would be changed forever. A new dream. 

And it had been a better dream—the best reality. Walker Earp was a blessing, not the curse she first thought he would be. He was bright and kind. Walker looked like Waverly and nothing like the sperm donor, which was a blessing. Walker was smart like her, too. Waverly knew Champ was dumb, but she was so glad he was smart enough to give up all parental rights to Walker. Waverly was enough for the little boy, even though there were times she would love to have someone help lighten the weight on her shoulders. Still, Walker was the best thing that ever happened to her. 

“Haught Body looks good in a uniform.” Wynonna nodded and pointed toward third base. “Yep, she looks good. Don’t you agree, Rosita?”

Waverly looked between her sister and sister-in-law and could see meddling as clear as day.

“She does,” Rosita agreed, nodding her head. She was eight months pregnant, and Waverly knew how uncomfortable she must be at this point, especially sitting on the bleachers. “Haught as fire.”

She narrowed her eyes. Waverly prepared to ask them what they were doing, but she heard Walker’s name being called before she could ask. 

Waverly turned to watch her little boy grab a bat and walk to the batter’s box. It was his first year playing baseball, and she was nervous about it. She was worried Walker would get hit by a ball or run over by one of the bigger kids. Waverly was even more concerned he couldn’t hit the ball, which she knew would make him feel bad. He always wanted to help his team and thought home runs were the only way to do that. 

“Come on, Walker,” Waverly yelled, clapping to encourage him. “You got this!”

Walker stood inside the batter’s box with the bat on his shoulder. He watched the first pitch cross the plate without moving—not even a little movement. Someone in the stands yelled, “Swing at the ball, kid.” Waverly placed her hand on Wynonna’s arm to keep her from turning toward the voice.

“You got this, Walker!” Rosita encouraged and then spoke to her wife. “Wynonna, keep your top-shelf ass on that bench, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

Wynonna grunted and didn’t move. 

The cold aluminum of the bench cut into Waverly’s hands as she grabbed the bottom of the seat in an attempt to keep her hands to herself. Every muscle in her body tensed as she watched the white ball leave the pitcher’s hand and fly toward Walker. The red threading of the baseball was visible even from the stands, and it seemed to be moving in slow motion, but it finally made it to the home plate. 

Waverly held her breath.

Walker didn’t move. 

The crass man yelled again. 

This time, Rosita turned and told the man to shut up. Wynonna, as discreetly as she could, shot him a bird.

God, Waverly loved her family.

“Time-out!” Nicole’s voice rang out, bringing Waverly’s attention back to the field. “Walker, come here.”

Walker’s bat fell to his side, and his chin dropped to his chest. Nicole wrapped her arm around Walker’s tiny shoulder and pulled him into her for a hug. No one could hear what Nicole was saying to Walker, but Waverly knew it would only be words of encouragement. There wasn’t a mean bone in Nicole’s body, or at least there wasn’t one now. Maybe back in middle school when she was teasing Waverly, but not now. 

Also, Wynonna and Rosita were right. Nicole looked damn fine in the blue and white baseball shirt she was wearing. It matched Walker’s, making Waverly’s heart crack open a little. It was hard to be around Nicole. It was hard for Waverly to see Nicole with Walker. Every time Waverly saw them together, Waverly desperately wanted something she knew she would never get. Waverly wanted a family. She wanted a partner. She wanted someone to love Walker as Waverly loved him. 

Damn it. Waverly wanted Nicole.

Even now, after all these years, Nicole was the one person Waverly’s heart craved the most. 

But there was no way Nicole wanted Waverly and all her baggage. Not that Walker was baggage, but Waverly had not been the kind of person Nicole would date—not even close. 

Waverly had been a bitch when they were younger, and it had only gotten worse over the last few months. A grump, a grouch. A pain in the ass, as Wynonna would say.  Waverly had struggled to keep her feelings stuffed inside, and instead of telling anyone how she felt, she had been angry with herself–-a basic bitch. Waverly was doing the same thing she had done in high school. She was running from the storm brewing inside her since the day she decided to change — to be different from the pathetic cute kid who chased after Nicole.  

Waverly shook her head and tried to focus on the scene in front of her instead of some impossible dream.  

Walker nodded, agreeing to whatever Nicole was saying to him. A little smile appeared on his face, and Waverly felt that tiny smile all the way to her toes. She was so lucky to have that kid—lucky to be his mom. 

Nicole gave him one more hug before he strutted to the batter box. He held the bat off his shoulder, and when the ball reached him, he swung so hard that it spun his little body around. The ball soared over second base, in the same space Waverly had been staring at earlier, and Waverly squealed. Walker stood there. He seemed stunned and didn’t start moving until Nicole yelled, “Run!”

Nicole ran alongside Walker, clapping and encouraging him. When he reached first base, she held her hand for a high five, and Walker, with a massive grin on his face, excitedly slapped the offered hand. Waverly had always been fascinated with Nicole’s hands. Those hands that could make the piano sound as if it was made from magic. The same hands had helped Walker tie his shoes in the hallway at their house and taught him how to hold a bat. Waverly had watched Nicole’s hands pull Wynonna into a tender hug and gently rubbed Rosita’s belly as she spoke to the baby. Even now, Nicole’s hand was on Walker’s shoulder, a gentle reminder that she was there for him. She always had been there for Walker. When Waverly ignored Nicole, Nicole was always there for Walker. Nicole’s hands were perfect, as was the woman.  

Waverly wiped away a tear that had escaped and trailed down her cheek. It felt as if they were the same tears that she had held inside all those years and they were finally breaking free. Her heart was racing, and her mind was spinning. Images of Nicole and Waverly’s life flashed like lightning during a summer storm, with Nicole’s favorite piano piece playing as the soundtrack. 

It may be time to face the music and stop running from the storm. Maybe it was time to forget the things Waverly had held onto so tightly because of fear of things that may never happen and let go of childhood hurts that had cursed her. It may be time to go for what she wanted for a change. Maybe it was time to let her heart lead her, and she knew it would take her directly to Nicole. No passing go. No collecting $100. 

“It’s time,” Waverly mumbled to herself. 

“Yes, it is,” Rosita agreed. 

“Shit, yes,” Wynonna concurred with a curt nod. “Go get the ginger.”

“How did you know what I was talking about?” Waverly knew she had been obvious about her anger toward Nicole but maybe she had been obvious that her grumpiness had all been part of her show. “Never mind. I’ve got to go before I change my mind.”

After the game, Waverly lingered by the bleachers, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her toes curled inside her tennis shoes, and she wiped her damp palms against the fabric of her dark jean shorts, but nothing could steady her buzzing nerves.

It was easier to be sharp, to throw up walls, than to face the possibility that she had already ruined any chance—if she even had one—with Nicole. Not that she thought she did.

But she confessed everything to Wynonna and Rosita as they escorted Walker to her car, and now there was no going back.

“Man up and get your woman,” Wynonna had stated, kissing Waverly's forehead before slapping her on the arm.

Rosita had muttered something about it being “about damn time,” but Waverly barely heard anything.

Her pulse was too loud, rushing and roaring in her ears as she waited for the moment that could either change everything—or confirm her worst fears—and break her heart all over again. 

The same heart seemed to be racing inside Waverly’s chest, beating so hard and fast she had to take a deep breath to try and slow everything down. It didn’t work. Waverly’s breath caught inside her when she saw Nicole walking toward her. 

“Are you okay,” Nicole asked. Her head tilted to the side, and her hand reached out before dropping. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Waverly felt like she was going to be sick. She almost turned around and ran, but Nicole’s hand touched Waverly’s arm, stopping her. Nicole’s fingers danced along Waverly’s skin like she was playing her favorite song on the piano. Waverly fought against narrowing her eyes. Old habits were hard to break, and breaking through doubts and denials was even harder. 

“Waverly,” Nicole repeated Waverly’s name, concern lacing every syllable. “Where’s Wynonna?”

“She’s gone home,” Waverly stuttered but stepped closer to Nicole. Waverly took a step closer to everything she had ever wanted. Waverly walked into the storm and hoped she wouldn’t drown. “Nicole, I need to tell you something. I mean, I want to ask you something.”

Nicole’s eyes filled with surprise, and she squeezed Waverly’s arm, encouraging. “You can ask me anything, Waverly. I know you don’t want to be friends with me, but I…”

“No, I don’t want to be friends with you!” Waverly yelled, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and maybe die a little. 

Nicole took a step back, but Waverly quickly followed. 

Waverly hadn’t planned to say anything about their shared past. She had spent years pretending Nicole Haught was the scum of the earth, letting old wounds scab over with layers of indifference. But standing here now, face to face for the first time in what felt like forever, the words clawed their way out before she could stop them.

“Why were you so mean to me?” Waverly’s voice was steady, but something raw underneath made Nicole blink in what appeared to be surprise.

“Mean?” Nicole frowned, tilting her head. “Waverly, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Waverly let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Of course, you don’t. You and Wynonna—God, you used to laugh at me like I was some dumb little kid who didn’t belong. Like I was a joke.”

Nicole opened her mouth, but Waverly cut in before she could speak.

“I was going to ask you out,” Waverly admitted, glancing at her dirt-covered tennis shoes before finding Nicole’s eyes. “For the dance. When we were in middle school and you told me to ‘stick with dress-up’.”

Waverly couldn’t believe she remembered the words and the feelings those words still created inside her chest.  

Nicole’s lips parted slightly, her expression shifting from confusion to something softer, almost startled. “You were?”

Waverly shrugged, looking away. “Yeah, but you acted like I was a kid when my feelings for you were so big.”

“Waves,” Nicole whispered, and the nickname completely cracked the remainder of the wall Waverly had built around her heart. “I didn’t know. I was so happy to have a badass friend like Wynonna I didn’t even look at anyone else. Before I moved to Purgatory, I didn’t have anyone. I never had a friend, much less a best friend. I would never have hurt you. I was only trying to be cool like Wy. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know you liked me. I would have been better. I should have been nicer to you.”

Waverly continued to stare into Nicole's brown eyes, and she could feel the pain she was experiencing because of her confession. 

“You wouldn’t have said yes, would you?” Waverly asked, straightening her shoulders and preparing herself for the rejection she thought she might feel all over again.

“Not then,” Nicole admitted. “But only because I would have thought I was too old for you. Two years was so big at that age.” She paused and pressed her lips together. “Then.”

Once more, Waverly’s heart stuttered, and she took a step closer to Nicole.

“Then?” 

Nicole’s tinting cheeks answered all of Waverly’s questions, but she was still waiting for Nicole’s words to confirm what she had always thought. Waverly had caught Nicole staring at her more than once over the years, but of course, Waverly was staring at Nicole, too. Waverly may have thought she hated Nicole, but she didn’t. She never did. Waverly had loved her then and loved her now. 

“You know, I’ve always thought you were beautiful and brilliant,” Nicole said softly. Waverly almost couldn’t hear the words, but she felt every syllable. “I would have asked you out a hundred times if I hadn’t thought you hated me. If I had known it was because I was a stupid teenager, I would have apologized years ago. I never meant to be mean to hurt you.”

And just like that, the past rearranged itself into something Waverly hadn’t expected.

“Okay,” Waverly started but stopped trying to steady herself. She felt sweat run down her back, and her shoulders sagged. She was messing all of this up. She should forget it and go back home. She should bury her feelings and forget about all this trying nonsense. She didn’t deserve a chance with Nicole. “I’m sorry, too. I should have told you why. I know we were both young. I should have known you were not the words you said back then. I should have realized you're the amazing person I see daily with your students–with my son. You’re a nice person.”

Nicole chucked, and the dimple on her cheek deepened. “And you’re not a grump.”

Standing there, under the setting sun, Waverly heard a different note—one unlike the bittersweet notes of the past. She envisioned stolen kisses on hundreds of dates, a slow dance on their wedding day, and a red-haired girl running toward them—a lifetime of music, laughter, and love waiting to unfold. 

“Waverly, what is it?” Nicole touched Waverly’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You zoned out. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Waverly’s gaze fixed on the space between Nicole’s furrowed brows. She ached to smooth it away. She wanted to touch Nicole, to kiss away all the worries. Waverly wanted it all. 

Taking a deep breath, she shook off the chains of the past and finally did what she hadn’t been able to do all those years ago.

“Nicole, will you go out with me?” The words ran together, jumbled into a pile, but then Nicole smiled sweetly, and it was like the best song Waverly had ever heard.

“Yes, Waverly. Yes, I will go out with you.” Nicole’s smile broadened, and she took Waverly’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Waverly looked at their intertwined fingers, and her heart hummed like moonlight on the water, dancing like fingers along ivory keys. At the gentle press of fingers, Waverly's gaze moved to Nicole’s eyes. “How about tonight? I know a great little piano bar.”

The end.

But really only the beginning.