Sky's The Limit

vi

six | ishaan

Her bedroom door was whisked closed behind me as I began taking off my backpack. Upon setting it down on the floor, I glanced around at the decor.

There was a floor lamp, providing us with the slightly romantic lighting we currently stood in. Her dresser stood against the left wall, and on top of it was an array of nail polish and picture frames. Her closet was right next to the furniture, edging into the corner of the room. Then, there was the window, which was front and center to where I stood. Looking out onto a fire escape, there was a desk positioned in front of it. On it were books and open notes, a black desk lamp, her alarm clock, and a small turntable. And finally, in the corner, lined right up against the wall on the right side was her bed.

I didn't get to fully take in the posters she had on her walls, let alone the smaller details before she urged me to get comfortable.

I started to come out of my windbreaker, unveiling the plain white Nike t-shirt I wore underneath. She took the loud material into her hold and laid it onto the back of her desk chair. Meanwhile, I sat on the edge of her twin sized bed.

I glanced around a little more, admiring how most of the posters on her wall were of rap album covers. Usually, when I was making myself comfortable in a girl's room, I had to do so with R&B niggas watching, grins and smirks plastered on their papery faces. So, this was a cool change of scenery.

My eyes found her again, watching as she placed the Teena Marie record I picked for her under the needle.

"You like what I picked?" I found myself anxious at the thought of her saying no.

"Yeah, they're all really good. This one's my favorite," she smiled slightly as music began to play.

"Oh, so you fuck wit' Teena?" I mirrored her expression, a sense of relief sinking into me.

"Yeah. She's got a lot of soul. I also appreciate that you got the album version of this single. It's the best version," she found a seat next to me— right next to me, so close that personal space became a figment of our imaginations.

"I know right," I concurred, scratching the back of my head a little probably because I could feel myself becoming nervous in her presence.

"Did you like what I picked?" she asked.

"Definitely," a smile melted onto my lips while a breath of a laugh escaped from between them.

"Which was your favorite?" she asked.

"I can't pick one."

"Okay then pick two."

I chuckled.

"The Stretch & Bobbito tape," I nodded.

"Okay, that's one."

"Aaaand.... the Cypress Hill joint."

"Really?" her eyebrows shot up and her eyes glimmered with surprised delight.

"Yeah, it had a dope instrumental on there," I confirmed.

"That's why I picked it," she nodded.

"Say word?" my tone indicated that I didn't believe her.

"For real! I know you be doin your thing. Even if you don't use it, I wanted to show my support somehow," she explained just as her hand found my knee.

"That's sweet," I watched her smile.

She gave a modest half-shrug.

"You always this sweet or are you just sweet on me?" I leaned back, my weight shifting onto my elbows as I used them to prop myself up.