CHICO the fool -Legends of New York #2 (MC)

Chapter 8

"It took me years to realise that 'home' could be anywhere under the sky." 

Chico:

I blame my recklessness for a lot of things. 

Like for the fact that I'm sitting on Nari's couch, my leather jacket creaking as I shifted, my feet barely fitting in the space between her coffee table and the couch.

Nari's living room was quiet except for the low shuffle of her feet and the sound of the rain that was still heavy outside. It made me feel like I didn't belong here—but at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to get the hell out either.

I shouldn't have agreed to get inside in the first place. 

She had gone to the kitchen, making me some coffee. I couldn't help but let my eyes wander around her apartment. It was so... clean. The closest thing to chaos in here was the stack of books and papers on the side desk. 

I ran a hand through my hair and glanced at the door. Was it too late to make a run for it?

She was taking her time.

The door to the kitchen creaked open, and I straightened up. Nari appeared in the doorway, holding some papers in one hand and a black mug on the other. She had changed her wet clothes for a pair of black jeans and a white sweater and her hair was in a bun. I was sure I had never seen her look so normal. She was still hot but .... she didn't look so out of reach.

"What?" she asked noticing my eyes on her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips as she put the mug in front of me.

"Do you ever, like, relax?" I asked, pointing at the papers in her hand. I leaned back slightly, resting my head on the arm of the couch. "You know, take a break from all that... work stuff."

Nari glanced at me, her brow furrowing just slightly. She moved to leave the papers in her desk creating even more chaos there. "Relaxing isn't really an option when you have a lot of people to help." 

I grinned at her response cause it sounded so....Nari.

Lifting the mug, I winced slightly as the coffee hit my throat, but the warmth quickly spread through me, making the burn feel comforting.

"Do YOU ever get time to relax?" she asked softly turning around and sitting on her desk with her hands on either side. Her voice was so gentle as if she was trying to get to know me.

Why would she even want that?

I leaned back again, meeting her gaze. We both knew she had a somewhat clear view of what I did for the MC so there was no reason for me to hide anything.

"Relaxing isn't something I'm very good at either," I admitted, "But when I do... it's usually something simple. Like.... Going to the Placebo. Meeting friends. Having a beer. Nothing too complicated."

Her eyes narrowed at me and I could see her thinking about my words. I couldn't quite place it, but there was something in her expression, something that made my insides twist. 

I was always good with women, I knew what they wanted and it was usually me and a good time between the sheets. It never took too much time or effort to make a Pussucat interested. A look, a word, maybe a touch— was enough to make any woman believe I was worth more than just a night. 

They wanted to believe they were the exception. The illusion that they might one day become my Old Lady made them beg me for more of whatever I was giving them. Most of the time it was just a good fuck.