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Objectively, this was the worst date she’d ever been on.
First—the scooter.
Nick hadn’t been kidding about how bad it was. They’d worked together to shove the thing around the corner and, after a brief conference that consisted mostly of well, it’s downhill, decided to coast as far as gravity would allow.
Nick had accidentally kicked it into gear while they were trying to get back on. He’d grabbed the clutch on instinct, the engine had coughed like it was offended by the effort, and somehow—miraculously—the thing had sputtered back to life.
They’d fist-bumped in triumph, laughing like idiots.
That should have been her first warning.
Because once they were seated, Judy realized the throttle was jammed open.
The ride to the park was quick.
And terrifying.
Rush hour traffic was bad enough on its own, but the scooter—older and somehow dodgier than her favorite fox—managed to make everything ten times worse. It was like it changed tactics every block, constantly innovating new ways to kill them.
When they accelerated, the scooter lurched left into traffic, the handlebars shuddering violently. When Nick squeezed what were optimistically referred to as brakes, the scooter jumped right, the wheels either locking solid or spinning freely depending on what the scooter felt was most threatening in the moment.
The entire time, the acrid smell of something burning followed them.
It also kept getting worse.
“How much longer till we get there?” Judy yelled over the engine’s tortured whine.
“Not long!” Nick yelled back, far too cheerful. “Hungry?”
“Yes,” she shouted, tightening her grip on his jacket, “but I’m also worried about bursting into flames. Feels like that’s about to happen any second now.”
He nodded like that was reasonable feedback and leaned the bike around a corner. Then he pointed ahead.
“Land ho!”
She felt a rush of relief as they barreled toward a small patch of green. The park. She could see clusters of happy mammals, food trucks lining the curb, and a band of dik-diks jamming on the corner.
It looked like the perfect spot for a fun, casual date.
A spot they were approaching very rapidly.
“Uh, Nick,” she said, grabbing his shoulders and pointing ahead, “any chance you’d want to stop soon?”
She paused.
“Preferably now.”
“Love to, Carrots,” he said, squeezing the brakes again.
Nothing happened.
“The brakes,” he added, voice climbing half an octave, “have decided to take the rest of the night off.”
He glanced back at her, eyes wide.
And for one insane second—just one—Judy thought, wow, he still looks cute like this.
I still have to kill him, though, but at least he’ll leave a pretty corpse.
Then the scooter hit a pothole and bounced into the air. When it smashed back into the ground, something broke.
Maybe all the things broke, because the engine died, the tires popped, and they started to slow rapidly.
Nick managed to steer toward a break in the curb, swerving past a few startled mammals before smacking into the raised edge of a small fountain. They both toppled forward—Nick catching himself on the handlebars, Judy catching herself on Nick’s ears.
They wobbled over the murky water before managing to drop back onto the scooter’s silent bulk. They panted for a few seconds before they started to laugh.
Judy punched Nick’s shoulder, and he jumped out of range with a hiss.
“Excessive force, officer,” he grinned with mock outrage. “Why do you feel the need to abuse poor foxes just trying to have a nice night out?”
“That’s the least you deserve for the ride,” she said, dropping her helmet onto the seat and giving her ears a toss. “Now that I’ve survived, I believe I’m owed something for my troubles.”
Nick smiled, dropping his helmet onto the dead scooter alongside hers before crooking his arm toward her. “Allow me to escort you, mi bunny. I believe I owe you a sandwich with pickles and half a soda.”
“Extra pickles and my own soda, cheapskate.” She slipped her arm through his and gave him a little hip-bump.
“Can’t blame a humble fox for trying,” he said as he guided them toward a food truck advertising something called a banh mi. “I’m just happy we didn’t get soaked in the fountain. I think that deserves celebrating—sandwiches, drinks, and we can split a side.”
“Ugh, wet fur is the worst,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze. “But I could go for veggie chips. Not getting wet is definitely worth celebrating… and something else too.”
She winked at him, and he beamed back.
Then the sky flashed white and thunder cracked overhead. The formerly clear sky filled with bulging storm clouds.
The bands started packing up. The food trucks waved off their lines. Someone shouted, “Glitch at the weather wall—we’ve got a flash storm coming in!”
Nick slapped a paw over his face and groaned. Judy was still trying to figure out what a flash storm was when a drop of water landed squarely on her nose.
Her eyes crossed as she stared at it. Then she looked up at Nick.
He was holding a paw out, testing the rain.
It was already picking up, and there was nowhere to run.
They looked at each other and, in perfect unison, said, “That was your fault.”
An extremely wet hour later, they were trudging back to her apartment, squelching through puddles.
“Chip?” Nick asked, proffering the little bag one of the food trucks had tossed at them in pity.
She shook her head, eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead. They were almost to her place.
“Thirsty?” he tried.
She sighed and turned to him. Almost there.
“Nick,” she said softly, “if I say yes and then you tell me to look up and open my mouth, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it.
“I withdraw the question,” he grunted.
“Smart fox.”
They turned onto her block, and Nick sighed loudly. “Objectively, this has to be the worst date you’ve ever been on.”
She opened her mouth to object—then closed it. “If it helps, I haven’t been on many dates. So maybe it’s just bad by comparison.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you might think,” he said, giving her a sidelong look. “What’s second place?”
“Uh… my mom set me up on a blind date. He was a lawyer. Very rude,” she said. “It was awful.”
“That doesn’t sound that bad,” Nick said. “I might need you to go on a bunch of bad dates to make me look better in comparison.”
“I forgot to mention he was married and I arrested him before the bill came. Suspended license,” she added with a shrug. “Worst part? I paid for both our meals.”
They reached her steps. Nick grinned. “I almost feel proud now. I mean, that’s a bad date, and the fact I managed to limbo under that bar is kind of impressive.”
“You’re definitely one of a kind, Nick,” she said, resting a paw on the handrail, half turning toward the door. “Most mammals wouldn’t… inflict this objectively bad date on someone else. Any reason I’m so lucky?”
“About a million,” he said, spreading his paws. “But the basics work. You’ve got a terrible sense of risk, and maybe because of that you still like me.”
“Sorry about that,” he added. “I’ll try to do better next time… if you’ll let me.”
She snorted. “I’m not so sure. What’s in it for me? And just so we’re clear—pickles and a soda won’t work this time.”
Nick lifted the soggy bag of chips with show-mammal flair. “Ta-da.”
She laughed. He looked pathetic—fur soaked, shirt plastered to his lanky frame, up to his ankles in the stream running along the sidewalk.
“You’re lucky I love you, you big dumb fox,” she said, laughing.
“That’s probably my finest quality,” Nick agreed. “When I die of pneumonia in ten minutes, put that on my gravestone: Here lies Nick Wilde—Judy Hopps kind of loved him. Sometimes. Mostly.”
She shook her head. “Nope. Love you all the time. Despite this.” She tugged his tie gently. “Since you owe me a literal rain check, the next date must include a roof.”
“You should also consider how wonderful I am for giving you a second chance.”
“Well,” he said, grinning, “those are pretty good chips…”
That grin made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. She considered that thought for a beat—then tugged his tie again.
It’s the least he owes me for this disaster.
A quick brush of lips and muzzles.
Nick’s eyes went wide as saucers.
She realized she was staring right back.
She let go of his tie and retreated toward the building door. Nick remained frozen in the rain.
She yanked an umbrella—she really hoped it was hers—from the stand and tossed it to him. “Here. See you later, Nick. Call me.”
She ran inside, water trailing behind her. From her apartment window, she watched Nick swagger down the street under the umbrella.
She should have invited him in. To dry off. Watch a movie. Take off his…
Nope. That was her mom’s bad influence talking.
She reached for her phone to call Nick back and it blared to life.
Mom.
“So, hun-bun,” her mother chirped, “tell me everything. How was your date?”
Judy spun the phone so her mom could see her. “Oh Judy, you’re soaked! What happened?”
A goofy grin split her muzzle.
“Objectively,” Judy said, “I had the best date ever.”