And I didn't respond with words. I just looked at her, into those brown eyes that I'd known and come to genuinely love. Those eyes that have mocked me, have challenged me, have comforted me. Her face softened, and I glanced at her lips, looking back to her eyes. She held my gaze, and I kissed her. While the car was warming up, surrounded by the cold air from the exhaust, I placed my gloved hands on her face and kissed her. That night, she stayed with me. And things were new again. I remembered feeling her against me...how I felt so safe and yet so afraid. Not like with anyone else. I remember how she... I jump at the sound of a sudden knock at the door. Turning away from the window I look over at the frazzled student that is peering into the room.
"Sorry...uh...are you in my econ class?" he asks.
"No, I think that group is meeting next door. Check the schedule for the time."
He leaves and I glance at my watch. Fuck...I've been here over an hour. I look over at my blank page and scattered books. I take a sip of my coffee, which is now cold. Shaking my head, I venture down to the second floor to get the other titles I'll need.
There are more people around now, though it isn't exactly crowded. Mostly people scattered in little cubicles, skimming titles in the aisles in that strange sideways stance. I make my way about a third down the length of the far wall, perusing the titles of various Spanish novellas and poetry. Octavio Paz...is not here. I placed my left hand at the back of my neck, rubbing into my skin. Taking out Neruda's Book of Questions, I flip through it unconvincingly. I reshelve it, despite the annoyed second glance of a library assistant. He points to the 'Please do not reshelve books' sign, giving me a condescending look. Is this really such a big issue? So I stand in front of the shelves with a copy of Lorca's Selected Poems when I feel a finger trail along my neck, and down over my shoulder. I look to see her, smiling in her Burberry trenchcoat. Below I can see she is wearing sweats and her favorite sneakers.
"So sophisticated," I say, smiling at her. I put the book down. She holds up the Paz book.
"Looking for this?" she asks, holding it out. I frown, then give a slight sneer, advancing toward her. She retreats, looking around her, a mischievous grin on her face. Her short hair is unkempt, though it looks like she put forth a slight effort to control it. As ever, she looks adorable.
"I need that," I say in a hushed whisper, smiling at her.
"Well come and get it, then," she says with a raise of an eyebrow. As she dashes off, I stand there in mock irritation. I really need to get this paper done. I start to walk in the direction in which she went, when I hear a clamor a few aisles away. Walking by, I see her helping up what appears to be the same library assistant who silently rebuked me a few minutes ago. He's barely containing his voice in a whisper, telling her she shouldn't be running in the library, that she could have really hurt someone, etc. She's apologizing repeatedly, sincerely. She hands him his books that had toppled over, then sees me watching her. She grins and walks off toward the chairs in the corner. I stifle a giggle and follow her.
When I arrive at the chairs, she isn't there. A jock struggling with what appears to be a copy of The Great Gatsby eyes me annoyingly as I stand there in confusion. Suddenly I am pulled back and to the right, into another aisle. She slides her arms along my waist, pulling me close to her. I can smell her perfume...that fresh baby scent she uses, that is so unique to her. Our lips are centimeters apart, and I glance around us.
"Where's my book?" I ask, smiling.
"Good morning to you too," she says, noticeably irritated. I slip my hands underneath her coat, along her waist. Her t-shirt is soft and worn, and I can feel the warmth of her body through it. I push her gently against the shelf, kissing her fully on the mouth. I smile, tasting vanilla lip balm. My hands move up over her shirt, caressing over her breasts and around to her back. As our tongues mesh, my fingers move down her spine to... I playfully pull the book from the waistband of her sweats, where half of it was tucked in.
"I win," I say with a smirk, still holding her waist with my left hand.
"Not yet, you don't," she says, running her fingers over my sweater, between my breasts. She snatches the book from me with her free hand. I stand there, shocked and excited by her behavior. My heart races and I smile nervously. Her fingertip reaches my mouth, and I kiss it gently. Her hand caresses my face, as she smiles and saunters away. Naturally, I follow. She enters the stairwell, and immediately jams the door with the book once we are inside. Pushing me against the wall, she pulls up my sweater, unfastening my bra and releasing my breasts.
"What if someone comes...." I start to ask.
"Oh, there will definitely be a lot of coming," she smiles. I feel the soft warmth of her tongue on my nipples, as my back is pushed against the cold wall. Her hands are squeezing my breasts, kneading the flesh passionately. I find it harder to stifle my moans as she begins sucking on my nipples, teasing them with her lips. I can feel them harden as she toys with them. I feel her pushing my breasts together. Looking down, I see her flicking her tongue intermittently across and around my hard nipples. I'm getting so wet just feeling her, watching her, seeing this hidden side to her.
A/N- Continue 8...7...6...5...4
Excuse mistakes
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