Someplace Like Home |n.j

15.

"Here," Nami's nimble fingers ripped a piece of her pizza and gestured me to open my mouth. I part my lips and watch her stuff it in with the most delicate smile I've ever seen from her.

We're alone in her studio, sitting on the floor as the sun from the window painted our skins, wearing nothing but our undergarments. We've already understood each other's body from head to toe, there was no need to cover up, but I cannot say the same about our minds.

"How many days ago was this?" I chewed on the pizza with a twisted grin.

"It's not that bad..." She paused, tucking her hair behind her ear shamefully, "Two days."

We fall into restrained laughs, our high pitched giggles filling the room. I take a bite from my own, "I knew something was wrong with this."

Nami was playful when she lifted her foot to jab at my leg, "Then don't eat it, give it back to me."

Grabbing her foot with my clean hand, I bite my lip as I watched her struggle to retract it, "Don't touch my foot, it's disgusting!"

"Try kicking me again, try it." I tease, and despite her complaints, she was smiling. I just wanted to look at this for as long as I can. Nami doesn't smile a whole lot, I know to be grateful when I do see it.

I drop the pizza in my hand and sit up to my knees. My hand pulls on her foot and forced her body closer to mine as her eyes widened. I bend over and tickle her stomach, watching her face contort while her smile changed into a loud laugh.

"No!" Nami barely managed to yelp out while I naturally began straddling her waist, "Your hands-touched the-pizza!"

Nami's cries went unheard as my eyes became entranced with the sight before me. She was so gorgeous. She has on the most unflattering expression with the loudest laugh, but the happiness on her face made me realize I've never seen her prettier.

The woman beneath me noticed me pause, and let out an exhale with tears being nearly squeezed out of her eyelids.

"...what?" Her brown orbs scanned my face, then my legs that were on either side of her. She looked back at my face. My fingers were no longer moving, my hand was now resting softly on her stomach.

I shake my head, "I've got your stomach all oily."

As if snapping out of the euphoric atmosphere in an instant, Nami glares at me, "I'm going to the bathroom."

I don't know when I got so bold, "Can I join this time?" Were we getting too comfortable? Would she want us to be?

With her lips parted, she stood up and watched me stumble to the floor, "What do you think, Namu?"

The woman treaded into the bathroom soon after, leaving me in the space of her studio. I took the time to gather our trash and took them to the garbage can in her kitchen, along with the pizza box.

After washing my hands in the sink, I welcomed myself to a tour around the place. It's still strange to me, no matter how many times I've been here.

There are no photos of family on her fridge, no lists or paper proof of some achievement. At first I thought, maybe she stores these things somewhere else, maybe by the bed, or on the wall. But no, nothing. Nami must not have too great of a relationship with her family. They never come up in conversations, and even if they do, the atmosphere instantly becomes awkward, like an automatic switch.

Speaking of family, my eyes darted to my phone that laid on the floor. I squint my eyes to look from a distance and scrambled to the device after seeing my mother's contact.