I Tripped and Fell in Love With You

Chapter 7: Magic

In the parking lot of a chain gym Obito swept an endless supply of sand out of the van and shut the door, looking for his next victim. The countertop. He drew a line on the surface and inspected the dirt on his finger like a butler in a movie. "We had these doors open for less than a minute. How does this place get so dirty?"

"Vanlifers have a love-hate relationship with the wind. A breeze is nice for cooling down, but goddamn, it blows every shitty spec of dust in here and aggravates my allergies," she finished her rant with a cough.

"Poor baby."

Emi hooked her toiletry bag on the cabinet's handle above the sink and unzipped it to use the mirror. Grumbling about the steam from the shower frizzing her hair, she parted it down the middle and braided it over her shoulders.

Obito abandoned the broom near the door and leaned back on the table. Braiding was something he'd seen girls do countless times in school. And yet, such a small act managed to enrapture him. It was the same technique as any other girl, but it meant more to him. All day he was finding new ways to assign affection to the little things she did. Her nimble fingers wove the hair in plaits. To him, they were magical. Those same hands held him yesterday while he broke down and cried. Those fingers tapped rhythms on the steering wheel as she drove, spooned a heart-pounding amount of sugar into his coffee, traced circles on his biceps, slicked back his hair to kiss his forehead.

"Need the sink?"

"Yeah, I need a shave." He ran a hand against the harsh bristles on his left cheek.

"Before you do.." Emi walked to his side and stopped. Her shy gaze roamed his face, seeming to debate something in her head as she moved from his eyes to the hand covering his face. He dropped it. Her decision was made.

She stood on her tip-toes and grasped the scarred side of his face and turned him to her. She leaned in. Obito pushed his jaw into her palm, tilting his head, closing his eyes. And promptly opened them.

Emi sighed, rubbing her cheek against his. The hairs tickled, stabbed, scratched her particular itch. She nuzzled harder, absorbing his amusement. His jaw moved down to speak and she moaned at the stroke.

"You are so strange."

"I know." She pulled away and swung her hand at the sink, signaling he was free to shave now that she had her fun.

Obito curled his mouth in a sly smile, eyes stuck on her lips. He uncrossed his arms and set up his razor, scoffing at her simple pleasures. "It's pretty shitty facial hair and stops right in the middle of my face." He thumbed over the slick, shiny skin on his chin where the scar started.

"It's part of you, so I like it," Emi implored. Obito scoffed again at his overly enthusiastic audience. She had sat at the table with her face on her fists, keenly observing his every movement, as if she were going to be quizzed on it later.

At least he had the decency to act aloof when he did the same to her.

Realizing shaving took too long to keep her interested, Emi changed. Taking off his t-shirt from the night before, she finished putting the finishing touches of her outfit so they could go back to the Sakura Bowl when he was done.

"Whoa."

She kicked the broom behind the driver's seat. "Hm? Too much? Should I wear something different?"

Obito took no qualms in staring. Leering. The black jeans she wore rode lower on her waist than any other pair she had. They hugged her hips and showed off her stomach. He couldn't care less about what shoes she wore. He couldn't see them in his peripheral vision anyway, because he could only look at her top. Fiery red. Delicate fluttery sleeves swooped her shoulders. The fabric tied in the front, right between ample cleavage. Hell, it hardly covered her breasts in the first place. And squishing them together like that..