Closure

Cherry Red (5)

I looked at my friends from the view of the balcony, staring at Jamie like a cat watching a goldfish. Carter was starting breakfast, going on and on about some graphics in a game I hadn't heard of. Gina was sunbathing, trying to cure that pasty white pigment her skin has been forever.
The aroma of charred canned corned beef & hash wafted through the air.
I took a deep breath.
The sun sparkled on the water.
It would have been an aesthetic view if not for the swarming flies.
Changing into a white cropped shirt, jean mini skirt, and flip flops, I headed down to join the crowd.
"You seem like a happy clam.", said Gina.
I blushed and wondered how obvious it was.
Jamie fanned herself with a paper plate.
Carter took it from her and piled the meat and potatoes on it, making the plate cave in at the middle.
"Rude.", Jamie fake gasped.
We knew she didn't give a shit, but also that Carter should have asked.
I sat myself next to Jamie at the table.
"Do we have any popsicles left?", I asked Carter.
He pointed his busy spatula at the cooler next to me.
I reached in and pulled out a blue one, "Do you want one?", I persuaded Jamie.
She nodded,"Red, please."
I shivered. Cherry is arguably the worst flavor of anything, with grape being a close second. The two always tasted like cough syrup, and nothing like actual cherries or grapes.
For some reason unbeknownst to me, cherry was always a hot girl's favorite, painting their tongue and lips with sticky, glossy residue.

I handed her the last red, my blue raspberry melting already in my hand.
My nipples stuck through my shirt.
Her ice lolly dripped, trailing down her finger, then her silver bracelet, then making little splatters on her chest. She noticed the leakage, licking from her wrist to the top of the popsicle to beat the next droplet at its own game.
It mimicked a tall red dildo.
Or was it just my own dirty mind making things interesting?
"What's next, a wet T-shirt contest?", Carter said, breaking into my daydream.
He'd stopped what he was doing almost completely, to stare at the woman shoving flavored ice past her gag reflex.
His words were humorous, but his face showed desperation.
Oh, to be a popsicle.

He resumed his cooking, Gina stood to grab her inhaler from her car.
I wrapped my fingers around Jamie's thigh.
Popsicle hanging from one side of her mouth, she gripped my wrist, removing it from the forelimb I'd made a mess on just hours before.
She turned her back to me, walking away to spark up a conversation with Carter about a Dungeons and Dragons campaign.
What doesn't she do?
More importantly, what did I do?
Is it because she didn't get to cum? Because I ask too many questions? Was it too early for PDA?
I wondered if she was even a morning person.
Tearing up and fearing the worst, I stormed inside to dry my eyes.
Hearing the screen door open, I bolted upstairs.
I wasn't going to be caught crying over a woman I barely knew when we haven't established a label for our relationship yet, if you could go as far as calling it that.
And I wasn't going to ruin everyone's good time by forcing them to care for their overly sensitive friend.
I shut the bathroom door behind me and turned the shower knob all the way to "lava".