Lips Like Coffee

cup: 11

Norma

I felt terrible. My stomach hurt, and my mouth tasted like old butter. Rolling over, I buried my face in Pen's abdomen as I wrapped my arms around him and groaned. Pen stroked my hair as he laughed, which made me groan even more; it wasn't funny.

We had just gotten back from our movie –which was absolutely amazing, the graphics were to die for– and my stomach was cramping like crazy. I had gotten a ton of butter on my popcorn, and was now regretting it, especially since it was expired butter. (In the middle of the movie, the counter attendant came sprinting up to our seats in a huff. Once she had caught her breath, she explained that I shouldn't eat my popcorn because the butter machine she used was broken. They hadn't been able to change the butter in it for two weeks. Lucky me, I had practically finished the bag already.) Pen laughing at my misfortune was almost just as bad as how my stomach was feeling.

"I'm sorry, Puddin," he said, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

"She had it out for me, I know it," I said, looking up at him from his lap.

That time, I smiled as he laughed and I turned my face back to into him. I closed my eyes as I inhaled deeply, he smelt so good. He scent was a mixture of kiwi and a hint of cigarette smoke, which was weird because I had never saw him smoke. There weren't any ashtrays around the apartment, and I had never seen him buy cigarettes either but he did keep a lighter. It was a grey, stainless steel with an intricate cross engraved on it –he carried it wherever he went. Although I wondered about why he had it, I never got the courage to ask, too afraid of being shut out.

"You should get some sleep," Pen whispered, his hand moving from my hair to my shoulder.

Tightening my grip on his waist, I shook my head no. He chuckled a little, then took my arms from around his body. I sat up, crossing my arms over my chest as I pouted. Pen cupped my cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb in a small circle then leaned in close to me.

"Go to sleep," he smiled, then pulled away as I stared at him with widened eyes.

He was so close to my face, that I could smell the watermelon gum on his breath. Kiwi, watermelon and smoke: my new Holy Trinity. That was a weird thought, especially since I had never put much thought into the way he smelt before. But there was something about his scent, that I found...attractive. Without a doubt, Pen was attractive –jet black hair that fell in layered waves on his shoulders, framing his sculpted face; impossibly dark brown eyes, nearly the color of pitch, that seemed to look through me; and a strong Roman nose that sat asymmetrically above plump lips that looked flower petal soft. Yes, he was attractive, and I was attracted to him.

I was attracted to him, oh God. Was it really attraction, or did I just really appreciate how good he looked? Glancing over at him, my face felt a bit warm as I watched him lick his lips while he focused on his phone. When he looked at me from the corner of his eye, I covered my face to hide my blush and pretended to watch television.

The couch sprung beside me, and I looked up to see Pen standing to his feet. He raised his hands to the ceiling, fingertips just barely grazing it, and grunted as he stretched. Once he finished, he bent down to look me in the eyes and pressed his forehead against mine.

"I'm going out for a bit," he said, and I furrowed my brows at this. Where could he possibly have been going at this time of night? Granted this wasn't the first time he left the house this late, but where would he go? "Don't wait up for me, okay?"

"Will you not be home tonight," I asked, and he pulled away from me while straightening to his full height.

He looked to his right as ran a finger down his jaw, then glanced back at me. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it as he shook his head.