The day I wrote a song about you

Chapter 45: Tu me manques

"Nico, stop." I whined. "It hurts."

Nico let out a big breath and let his body fall beside me, his forearm covering his eyes.

"I'm sorry." I murmured. I could see my hand shaking as I cautiously placed it on his chest, that moved up and down with his heavy breathing.

We had been trying to do it several times this weekend before he left to Cuba. I really, really wanted to have sex with him. But it hurt. As I had mentioned before, its size was not average and it was painful just thinking about it. I was ready, I really was, but I couldn't seem to relax.

"Don't be sorry." He said, not looking at me. I glanced down at his dick. He had taken off the condom but it was still hard against his stomach.

"I can do something-"

Nico lifted his arm from his face and grabbed my cheek, giving me a determined look. "Don't be sorry, okay? We'll get there." He kissed my lips and got up from the bed, locking himself in the bathroom.

I needed to do something. I didn't know if it was my past experience that didn't let me enjoy or if it was simple anatomy, but he had done it with girls before, it wasn't impossible. I needed to talk to someone. The last thing I needed was these awful thoughts that I couldn't satisfy him in my head. I had that competition in two months and I had to focus if I wanted to win.

I was lost in my thoughts looking out the window when Nico got out, sweats covering now his lower body. "Do you want some water?"

"It's okay, I can grab it." I said, getting up.

"Cara." He smiled. He didn't look mad. "Stay there, I'll grab it."

I let out a breath and began to put on my underwear. When he came back with a glass of water I thanked him with a smile and sat on the bed again, sipping on it as I looked around for my T-shirt.

Nico grabbed a cigarette and sat on a chair near the window, opening it as he rested the cigarette between his lips, the muscles in his back flexing, making me stare.

He took a long puff, the light morning breeze brushing his curls from his face. I sat down on the other chair beside him and lifted my legs up against my chest. It was warm already outside. Spring was my favorite season. The colors of the leaves, the sun, the flowers, the climate. Soon the rain would go away for a few months and it'd be too hot to even go for a walk.

"You don't care that I smoke." Nico stated. It wasn't a question, he knew it. He was also staring at me, he did that a lot. I was beginning to get used to it, with that saying that I didn't blush as hard as I did before.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Why?" He cocked his head. "Everyone in Paris smokes. It's really common. Not here, though. I really thought the day I would settle down I'd have to quit. But you really don't care." He narrowed his eyes before taking a drag.

"I don't know." I shrugged again, lowering my T-shirt so it covered my legs. "My parents used to smoke when I was a kid, my dad still did it before he passed away. It's something I've seen. What really bothers me sometimes it's the smell. Like that smell when the smoke hit your face. But you don't do that. You don't even smell."

"I try not to." He chuckled. "I might quit, though."

"That's good."

"Yeah." He sighed, fighting a smile. "It's bad, you know?"

"I know. It's pretty bad." I said, trying to suppress my smile, too.

We stared at each other for a moment, Nico's arm resting on the window. "It's okay if we take our time, Cara."