(a/n) ok so I lied, I have not in fact updated more regularly. i'll spare you the long winded excuses. basically just work, college apps, and mental health. the usual. but BEHOLD! a new chapter! and im SORRY its so short, but GOOD news, i have a lot of time in the car this weekend so expect another update soon. for real this time. i swear on nick miller's flannels.

Nick wandered back to his room after being kicked out of the bathroom by a bloody Jess ("Nick, we do not use bath towels on blood!"). He hated when she used her teacher voice. She thought he didn't know the difference between her exasperated voice and her teacher voice, but ever since he dropped her lunch off for her at work once and heard her talking to her class, he could tell the difference clear as day.

He flopped down onto his bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. He really hated Past Nick Miller. For a multitude of reasons really, but mostly right now for getting him into this whole gym mess. And for drinking those beers last night. After giving Past Nick a strict talking to in his head and warning Future Nick to not do or say anything stupid to embarrass him in front of Jess, he slapped himself across the face and kicked his way through the trash on his floor to his clean clothes pile.

After a couple minutes of digging and several instances in which he wondered if he had mixed up his clean and dirty piles again, Nick found a pair of gym shorts and shirt that could pass for athletic apparel. He threw them on and hastily smeared on some deodorant, all the while physically restraining himself from bopping along to Jess's music seeping under his door.

Once he deemed himself to be looking and smelling somewhat decent he reminded himself that he had nothing but platonic feelings for Jess and that this whole situation was just fine. Then he walked out the door.

He had much more than platonic feelings for Jess. This situation was not fine at all.

Jess was standing by the front door with her back to him, leaning against the wall, apparently waiting for him. That was all fine. The skin tight pink leggings? Not as fine. But in a much different sense, very fine. Nick mentally deposited a fiver in the Douche Bag Jar. He was spending too much time with Schmidt. He was not a perv, but damn with Jessica dressing like that and just being so damn...Jess all the time: it was hard to keep his head above his belt line sometimes. So, sue him.

Jess heard him and spun around and Nick made another donation to the Douche Bag Jar. Jess's white tank top dipped significantly lower than her usual dresses and Nick was having a hard time keeping his gaze at an appropriate level.

"Uh, is that what you're," Jess cocked an eyebrow at him and his inner Cece warned him to redirect or get his ass kicked. "I mean, uh, I don't think I've seen those leggings before, they, uh, they look real good on ya," he peeked up to see if he came off to creepy and was relieved to see that special smile on her face that seemed to be reserved just for their moments.

"Why thank you, Nicholas!" she said, in a voice that could only be described as a sultry Daffy Duck. He should NOT find that sexy. Maybe he should see one of those eccentric sex therapists. He didn't want to end up with a boner every time he watched Looney Tunes.

He not so subtly readjusted his shorts and demanded the blood in his cheeks and other regions to promptly return to their normal positions, please and thank you.

"Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to go? Where are we headed? The Y?"

Jess looked offended. He tried again: "Anytime Fitness? That one purple place?"

Her eyebrow gave an exasperated quirk, but she took mercy on him all the same. "Crossfit, Nicholas. I'm not doing any of those wimpy workouts. I'm going to show you a real gym today."

Nick's stomach dropped. This did not bode well for he who had just searched the steps to a burpee on WikiHow last night. Jess grinned up at him and shuffled towards him, her fingertips grazing along his forearm. He didn't gulp. Not in the slightest.

"But you work you, Nick," she said, punctuating her words with a squeeze, "so you'll fit in with the Crossfit crowd just fine."

And with that she dropped his arm-now covered in goosebumps-grabbed her keys, and sauntered out the door.

Nick was silent the whole ride to the gym. Ok well not totally silent. Jess had put on her playlist again and as far as he was concerned, not singing along to T Swizzle was a crime. But other than that? Radio silence. He was all crossed arms and grinding teeth. And Jess was all bright eyes and cheery voice and annoyingly still wearing that damn tank top.

When they finally pulled up to the gym (or as Jess had bubbly informed him, the box), Jess turned off the car and flipped her torso to face him.

"Nick, if you're that uncomfortable we don't have to go. It's not a big deal, we can get some lunch and go back to the loft," she said, her eyes blasting concern at him.

Damn this girl. Here he was being a complete asshole and she was still only looking out for him. Why was he like this? He put on a smile and grabbed her hand, not letting go despite the way his stomach seemed to drop down into his ratty tennis shoes.

"No, Jess it's fine. I'm sorry I was being a jerk. Let's go inside," and then she smiled at him and squeezed his hand and some unhinged part of him decided to keep talking, "Besides I wouldn't want to miss seeing you workout in those leggings."

Time stopped. Jess blinked. Once. Twice. Nick cleared his throat.

"I mean, uh...what it do, girl..."

Jess blinked a third time before she burst out laughing and Nick could breathe again. When she finally ceased laughing at his expense, she reached over, planted a kiss on his cheek, and swung open the car door.

"Let's go find out, Nick. Let's go find out."