Ricky was avoiding Anita at all cost. What was wrong with her?
"Do I smell bad?" She'd gotten up the nerve to ask Newt as school was letting out. She found him walking with her after school. Home.
"No." He smiled. "You smell like cherries."
Anita beamed. Yes, it was the cherry lip gloss, she supposed. Someone finally noticed.
"Thanks." She barely spoke now as if she were conscious of something might be going on, other than casual conversation. Oh, it was just conversation. She had to stop using her imagination so much.
"But I love that about you." She heard him say. Or maybe she wanted to hear him say so. He couldn't have said that, he couldn't have.
"What?" She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Do you want to study?" She watched his lips move. He was such a dream. Shaved head and all.
"Yes." Though, she hadn't a clue what she was saying yes too.
"I know a place." He didn't mean at her house or his. Evidently.
They didn't stroll through the cold park then, but down a back alley and a few blocks of intrigued walking to an abandoned building that Anita had never noticed before.
"Has that always been there?" She looked at him.
"Yeah, a paper factory." He told her. It was quite ancient, after all.
"Really? Huh?" She didn't know any of the history of the village. It still amazed her they'd made paper here. Whatever for, she wanted to ask, but didn't want to sound like an imbecile as he lead her up the fire escape to the top floor of an empty space.
Except for the few comforts of home. Like a mattress, wooden boxes stacked for a desk where pen and paper were and a few of his drawings.
Anita bit her bottom lip as she watched him plop down on the mattress, waiting for her to sit next to him. It was so cold, but she hardly noticed as she sat there as if she was meant to be here with him.
His stare lingered for a moment and then he frenched her as if he meant business. Anita could hardly believe it. Was this really Newt or just some longing animal inside Newt that wanted her? She frenched him back as if she'd recipicate the favor, or that she'd learned something from the process of the kiss. And they were getting better. Knowing what the other wanted, how they should react. Soon she found his hands finding more of her to touch. It wasn't possibly, happening, was it?
Just don't think. Don't think. Don't think. Go with it ..go with it.....
"Don't stop," she whispered as he was finding everything inside of her that wanted him so badly. Possibly he'd find it just miserable, but at the moment they kept kissing, and his touching could do the rest.