Sheets | ✓

SEVENTEEN

It was now Friday, and everyone has noticed that Nico was attending school far more often than before. Sure, he sometimes turned up late, or left in the middle of the day for smokes, but he was always back by lunchtime, only to disappear somewhere on campus. It had also become some sort of appointment for me to leave my friends at the end of lunch to head to the pool storeroom under the guise of needing to meet with teachers about school work. People hadn't put two and two together, and frankly, I didn't expect them to; Nico and I were never in the same thought bubble, since we were two very different people with very different reputations. But, somehow, it always ended up being the two of us in the back storeroom surrounded by the smell of chlorine and the feeling of foam kickboards under our backs.

I frowned as Nico lit a cigarette above my face, inhaling deeply before exhaling a plume of swirling grey. I let out a slight noise of disgust from my breath, Nico just snickering in response and blowing a waft down towards my face. Nico was sitting with his back against the brick wall of the storeroom, his legs laid out flat as my head rested comfortably on his thighs. Though not the softest things in the word, his legs were comfortable enough and I didn't want to move, even if he was blowing that putrid smoke into my face.

"If you want to get cancer go ahead, but I'm good without it, thanks," I said, scrunching my nose as Nico just looked down at me in amusement. My fingers twitched as I had to push back the urge to reach up and run my fingers through his dark hair, which hung over his eyes as he bent his neck to face me. After looking at my crinkled nose for a second longer, Nico sighed and crushed the cigarette against the stone ground, orange embers dying as the lit end was snuffed out. 

"Happy now?" Nico asked, rolling his eyes a little, though his mouth was smiling as I nodded, humming. 

"Much happier. Those things taste like shit, I don't even know why you smoke them," I said, Nico laughing. 

"It's something that keeps my hands busy. And you get used to the taste," Nico said, eyes alight as he leaned down, kissing me. My eyes fluttered closed as I relished in the feeling of his mouth on mine, not really minding the slight taste of tobacco which had, unfortunately, become something I was growing used to.

"I guess you really do," I murmured against Nico's mouth, the boy grinning as he pulled back, a little triumphant. Letting my hand move upwards, I slapped Nico's hand as he began to reach for another cigarette. "Nope. This is a cancer free zone, asshole. Keep your hands busy another way."

"Like this?" Nico said, linking his fingers with mine in the air. I stared at our intertwined hands and felt my stomach flip as his rough thumb drew a circle on the back of my hand slowly. 

"It's an improvement," I replied flippantly, Nico letting out a snort as he lowered our hands onto my stomach, still clasped together tightly. I found my eyes closing against as Nico's free hand started to fiddle with my hair, his fingers raking through the locks lazily as he found another way to keep his fingers busy. Better than smoking, I guess, even if it made my toes curl every time his nails would tickle my scalp.

It felt like an eternity until either of us spoke again, both of us just basking in the comfortable silence and feeling of our hands on each other, even if the touches were (mostly) innocent. Feeling his warmth on my stomach and cradling my head was comforting, and comforting wasn't usually something that accompanied Nico. Something about the ease of being by his side stirred something inside me, but I didn't want to figure out what that was and just crushed the feeling down like the butt of his cigarette.

Nico was the one to break the silence, his fingers stroking my hair stilling as he spoke.

"That girl you're always with," Nico said, my eyes opening as he paused. I swallowed, turning my body and head to the side to avoid his gaze, though I couldn't being myself to lift my head off his thigh. Nico's hand in my hair pulled away as I moved, but reattached itself as I stilled again.