Below is the fifth addition to Caramel Cigarettes.
Still need to catch up? Click the links below:
The door was already unlocked.
I walked in to find Nicky lying on her bed, looking up at the ceiling, and two different outfits wrinkled like newspaper in opposite corners of the room: a vanilla bean gown, a pair of jeans and a red hoodie.
She was wearing a black V-neck, frosted with cleavage. In that shirt, her torso looked like marble cake. I assumed she had been wearing the crumpled, cornered jeans, as she tucked her bare legs in – heels to butt – and turned on her side, facing me. Her thong was red, matching her hair that was braided and swung over her left shoulder.
I closed the door behind me. “Hi,” my eyes darted to the floor because I couldn’t trust myself.
“Didn’t expect you to be here so soon.” She said. “I would have put my pants back on.”
My gaze transitioned from the floor to her jeans. They sat upright – waist’s jaw open, unzipped, unhinged – with the legs wrinkled and balled up like miniature posts. It looked like Nicky could just step right into them.
“How was your day?” I eyed her left knee and outlined a triangle, connecting the three freckles, with my gaze over and over again.
“Not as busy as yours. Why didn’t you text me back?” Her voice lowered.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. My eyes met hers. “I’m sorry?”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Kelly.” She sat up and ventured towards her jeans. “What do you want anyway? I’ll see you in chem tomorrow, right?” She stepped into the denim lips, one foot at a time. As the waist drew closer to her hips, I grew jealous. They were so tight, so close to her. As Nicky buttoned the jeans and reached down to pull up the zipper, I heard myself saying, “Stop!”
She stopped zipping mid-way and looked at me. She raised her eyebrows; three lines appeared on her forehead. “Stop what?”
“I missed you today.” My heartbeat quickened.
The lines on her forehead faded. “But, we just saw each other on Saturday. How can you miss me?”
I thought back to how many times Nicky texted me that day. I thought to how we both dreamed of each other the same night. I walked in on her half naked; she had her left leg on her right while facing me, like she knew I had a freckle fixation. She was playing me but I had no right to be mad, because I had been doing the same thing.
I retrieved my phone. There was a text from Jacqueline: “If you’re not busy later, you can totally come over. My room # is 232.”
Hand on doorknob I said, “I didn’t come here for this,” and turned away.
“Kell, no.” She whined. I felt her acrylics on my back. As she scratched gently, scaling my spine, I imagined the scratching getting harder, deeper and less frequent and could hear her moan my name.
“Kelly,” she whispered into my left ear. Her chin resting on my shoulder; her lip ring rubbing against my ear lobe.
“Nicky,” I whispered back, still facing the door.
“You smell good.” She continued to whisper.
“You always smell good.” I rolled my head back; venturing up my back, her scratching transitioned into more of a massage once she reached my shoulders.
“You wanna sit?”
I could hear her lick her lips. As I walked to her bed, she stood behind me and pushed me closer and closer. Once my knees were against the mattress, she pushed me one last time, making me fall face-first onto her unmade bed. Nose deep into her comforter, which was folded over as if it had been kicked off, I could smell mint and thought of Jacqueline. Jacqueline who I left high and dry when she asked about dessert, on account of a vibrating phone in my back pocket that pulsed every couple minutes, reminding me that another girl needed me. I picked myself up and turned towards Nicky, who was standing in front of me, smiling. I smiled back. She giggled. We made eye contact and simultaneously bit down on our lips. “Whoa.”
She looked down for a moment and then at me. Her cheeks blushed; her hands untangled the braid. She leaned forward to whip her wavy hair forward and then back. I could see down her shirt before her hair curtained her face. Whipped back, her hair curled past her shoulders. One strand parted down her face. She attempted to blow it out of the way, until finally disposing it behind her ear. “Lay on your side.” She said.
She crawled onto the bed – one foot planted on the floor, both hands on mattress, one knee balancing on the edge. “Lay on your side.” With her hand, she touched my shoulder and molded my embrace. She motioned me to the left.
My head was now on her pillow; back was against the wall. “Like this?” I asked, holding back a laugh, not because I was nervous, but because I was excited to see what would happen next.
She nodded and crawled towards me. She too, put her head on the pillow; her back was facing me. She reversed until her ass met my belt buckle. She then inched down; ass was now on my zipper. Her hair, over my face like vines, smelled of blueberry. “Where’s your hand?” She asked.
I raised my arm and dangled my hand over her face, waving my fingers. She laughed before reaching up and maneuvering my arm over her side. Her fingers slipped in between mine; her thumb massaged the center of my palm. Our hands were merely inches away from the frosting that topped her shirt.
“You good, Kell?” She whispered, bringing our hands closer to her chest. My thumb accidentally slipped into the V-neck. She inhaled and I felt her warm skin as her chest rose. I took my thumb out.
“Yeah. Are you?” I breathed in the blueberry.
“I like this.” She said, not in a whisper, but with a small voice, almost raspy.
I smiled, thinking I was the only person to hear it. She scooted ahead, her ass no longer touching me. I let go of her hand, and like legs, my index and middle finger walked atop her torso and I pressed my palm into her waist.
“You want me to come back, don’t you?” She giggled. “I didn’t know you liked being the big spoon.”
“I didn’t know you’d spoon with me.” I slipped my fingers beneath her shirt, not leaving her waist crevice. Nicky didn’t stop me. She reversed until her ass met my crotch, pressing harder against my zipper than the first time. Her warm, smooth skin turned bumpy like she had goose bumps. “You cold?” I stopped touching.
“Why’d you stop?” She asked, using that same raspy, small voice.
I continued to rub her waist’s indentation. I slowly lowered my fingers to her tummy. A trail of goose bumps followed my fingers. I pinched the dangling belly button jewel between my thumb and pointer, while my pinky gently circled right above her jean button. My heart catapulted to my throat. Sweat streamed the sides of my neck. I let go of her belly button piercing and shuffled my fingers beneath her navel. My pinky was now on her button; my arm draped over her hips; remainder of my hand was still under the shirt. I didn’t think twice, burrowing my ring finger under her waistband. I could feel the lace of her thong. I couldn’t wait to inch in deeper – underneath the zipper fly – to feel her warmth. I wanted to reach her thighs, get in between, because I wondered if she was wet (knew she was wet).
“Kelly!” Her voice was no longer raspy or small.
I pulled my hand away. My heart coursed down my throat, back to my ribcage, like an elevator, pulsing heavily at each floor.
She remained lying on her side. Her back was still to me. “I’m just lying here with you.” Her breath grew heavy; when exhaling, her torso shook.
“Nicky,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I just wanted to relax with you.”
“I know. I know.” I sat up and proceeded to the end of her bed. I stood up, pulled at the denim bunched around my crotch. “I should go.” I headed for the door.
Nicky didn’t stop me. She remained on her bed in the same position I had left her. She didn’t stop me like how she didn’t stop my hand.
I pinched myself twice just to make sure it wasn’t a dream.
Leaving her dorm, I could smell her blueberry.