Regret Me

That much

"Hey," Nat smiled sweetly, leaning against her doorframe in a loose black midi dress.

Her hair was straightened and hanging delicately on her shoulders, the red colour shining in the light of the hallway outside her flat. She wasn't wearing any makeup, but she rarely ever was, she didn't need it. Her lips though were glistening clear with a soft coat of an invisible gloss.

"Are you going to come in?" she laughed.

I nodded with a small smile, lightly placing my hands on my hips as she closed the door behind me.

"You look really pretty," I whispered between us like I was scared the mice in the walls would hear me and sense my guilt.

"Thanks, dekta," she smirked, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against mine softly.

Unlike every other kiss we've shared, this one bled into a feeling that made my stomach uneasy. There was such guilt in my heart, that I had to pull away before she deepened it.

"All okay?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

I nodded, "just hungry," I lied.

"Good," Nat smiled, turning on her toes and linking our hands together to drag me through her flat.

I had been here a few times before but every time, most of my attention was on Nat and getting her clothes off her body that I didn't even stop to look around. Her home was very warm in colour and felt cosy. The walls were made of brown brick and photos of various people she'd met in her life were framed on the walls. A huge bookcase lives on one of the far walls and housed a variety of cloth-bound stories. The small New York flat simply consisted of a bedroom and a living area, exactly as you would imagine a studio apartment looking like. When we reached the kitchen, I leaned against the side and watched Nat stirring a pot of food that smelt vaguely of paprika.

"How was brunch?" she asked me.

I furrowed my brows and quickly remembered my lie before she could follow it up.

"It was good," I nodded, desperate to swerve the topic, "what did you get up to?"

"Shopping, cleaning, same old," she told me, not yet meeting my eyes, "how are you with spice?"

"Is this a trick question?" I smirked.

She shook her head, "it's already got a lot of paprika in so I don't want to burn your tastebuds off by adding chilli flakes."

"Depends on what you're making," I laughed.

"I'm going to add the chilli flakes," she smirked.

"What if it's too spicy Miss Romanoff?" I asked.

"Well, you should've given me a straight answer Miss Y/L/N," she told me, adding in way too many chilli flakes.

"Are you trying to kill me?" I giggled.

She nodded slowly and turned to look at me with a smug smile, "can't handle a bit of chilli?"

"I hate you," I smiled.

"I know," she smiled back sweetly, "do you want a drink? The food's nearly ready."

I nodded, "I'll have whatever you're having."

"I was gonna have a beer," she replied.

"Oh, I'll um- I'll just have water," I decided.

"Ice?" she asked.

I nodded again, a small voice in the back of my head shouting at me as I recalled the memories of Lizzie when she was last in New York.

"I got a zero alcohol rosé, is that okay?"