Chapter 4

Kit sat with Nichelle at the Sweet Bean and sipped from a tall masala chai. She reached for his hand and they locked fingers.

“This was a good idea,” he said. “Live music ... good coffee and chai ... tasty snacks.”

“Friday is an open jam session,” she replied. “What kind of music do you like?”

“I like about anything that’s done well. I don’t have a favorite genre.”

“I’m the same way ... except for country.”

“Yeah ... There is some country I can listen to. I kinda like Bluegrass ... in small doses, that is.” He sipped more of his drink. “You said you were here on a scholarship.”

“Yeah ... I was eligible for a grant that covers just under half the costs here. It makes the place competitive with the state schools. My great-grandmother is in assisted living and that takes some resources. My mom didn’t want me taking out loans, so with Great-Gram’s caretakers and the break on tuition we can make ends meet. What about you?”

“I’m here on a full ride,” Kit replied.

“Full ride? Really?”

“Yeah ... I come from one of the poorest and least-populated counties in Pennsylvania. The state -- commonwealth to be exact -- comprises three regions: Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Appalachia.”

“I’m from Philadelphia,” she interjected. “I’ve never been anywhere else in the state ... commonwealth.”

“Well, I’m from Appalachia. We had exactly one school in the whole county with about seven hundred students.”

“That doesn’t sound so small,” she noted.

“Seven hundred total, K through twelve. There were seventy-seven in my graduating class and I was one of twelve to go to on college.” He sipped his chai.

“Where did the rest of your class go?” she asked.

“Vocational school ... trades ... to the farms ... somewhere else ... or to jail. There were coalfields in the area but the last of those shut down in the sixties. The whole county’s been dying a slow death ever since.” He drained his cup. “I’m the first in my family to go to college. It’s my ticket out of there and I am more than eager to leave.” He regarded her cup. “Another chai?”

Nichelle shook her head. “No -- I’m good.”

“I’ll walk you back to Whalen.” Kit picked up the check.

Nichelle opened her bag. “Here -- let me help.”

“I asked you out -- I’m paying,” he replied.

“Then, I’m paying next time,” she replied.

“Only if you ask me out next time.”

“Kit -- no reason the guy should bear all the expenses.”

Nichelle stood and Kit scanned her up and down. She was wearing a light blue A-line dress with short sleeves and a hem that came a few inches above her knee. “You look pretty in that dress,” he remarked as they stepped into the autumn evening.

“Why, thank you,” Nichelle replied sweetly.

“Mild night,” Kit added.

“Nights will be cold enough, soon enough. I wanted to get some wear out of this before winter.”

“Your great-grandmother -- is she’s the one who married a white man?”

“That’s right -- right after the war.”

“World War Two?”

“Yup, in nineteen forty-eight if memory serves.”

Kit let out a low whistle. “That must’ve taken some courage in that day.”

“It did,” Nichelle replied. “They had to move away from West Virginia due to the anti-miscegenation laws there. That’s how my family settled in California. He was estranged from his parents ... and, the rest of his family. It wasn’t until his mother died in the eighties that they reconciled.”

“Tough price to pay for love,” he mused. “Think about it -- have to move to California to get married.”

“And for his career. Great-Gramp was a college professor -- he taught English literature.”

“So you come from a family that values education.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Unlike mine. If I didn’t have a full-ride scholarship here, I wouldn’t BE here. My parents didn’t understand why I wanted to go to college. They discouraged me from even applying.”

“What did they want you to do?” she asked.

“Learn a trade like my dad. He’s an electrician, but work for him is hit-or-miss. There’s very little new construction, so most of his work is fixing problems.”

“You’re so bright, Kit. That would be a waste of your talent.”

“I’m glad you think so. My parents don’t. They think being here is a waste of time and a good pair of hands.”

They walked from the coffee shop to campus and approached Whalen House. “Would you like to come up and see my room?” she asked.

“Sure. I’ve never been in Whalen ... past the lobby, that is.”

They stepped into the lobby. Nichelle scanned her ID and opened the door to the residence floors. Together they climbed stairs to the third floor. She used her key to open a door marked 305.

Kit stepped in and looked around. A slender blonde girl reclined on the sofa. “This is very nice,” he remarked as he scanned the room. “This is your common lounge?”

“Right,” Nichelle replied.

“You even have a little kitchen ... with a full sized fridge. Billy and I share a micro-fridge.”

Nichelle motioned him into the room. She approached the girl on the sofa. “Michelle -- this is my friend Kit Wainwright. Kit -- Michelle Faye.”

“Hi,” Michelle replied.

“Pleased to meet you,” Kit replied.

“This is my space,” Nichelle said, leading Kit through a door marked with a capital D. She closed the door behind her.

“Bunk bed -- do you sleep on top or bottom?”

“Bottom ... though sometimes I climb up on top to study or read.”

“I like how you draped the blankets to make curtains ... like your own sanctum sanctorum.”

“It’s cozy...”

“It’s small ... but with the common lounge ... It’s a nice room, Nichelle.” She approached him and he instinctively stepped back, until bumping into her desk stopped him.

Nichelle rested her forearms on his shoulders, her fingers against the back of his neck. “Something wrong, Kit?” she asked.

“I wasn’t sure what you were...”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Kit. I know you’re smarter than that.”

“I ... I wasn’t expecting a kiss on a first date,” he replied.

“This is at least our third.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Since you seem to think what defines a date is who pays ... We sat in the lobby and you bought two ginger ales...”

“That doesn’t count,” he protested.

“Hear me out ... Then, we went to the Sub Station and I paid, so that’s date number two...”

“That wasn’t a date,” he persisted.

“All right ... Whether this date is first, third or some other number ... it doesn’t feel like a first date to me. Kit -- you gave me the kiss of life. It couldn’t have been pleasant for you, given the condition I was in. I thought maybe you’d appreciate a better tasting one ... Or, is it some color thing interfering?”

“No color thing.” Kit held her around her waist.

Nichelle lifted up on her toes and kissed his lips. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked.

“It was kinda nice,” he replied.

“I thought so, too.”

“You know -- I think I must’ve performed mouth-to-mouth on you for fifteen or twenty minutes before the paramedics arrived and got set up...”

“And, you think because of that you deserve more than one kiss?” Nichelle rolled her eyes in thought. “You’re probably right.”

Kit embraced her and they kissed again. “Just one more?” he asked.

“Oh, certainly.” Holding each other in a tight embrace they kissed long and passionately. He released her and then planted a quick kiss on her nose. “You’re a good kisser, Kit,” she said.

He caressed her cheek. “You’re a pretty girl, Nichelle.”

“For...” she replied.

“For?”

“You’re supposed to say, for a black girl.”

He shook his head. “You are a pretty girl, Nichelle. Period.” He regarded her and smiled. “And, one who’s accustomed to getting her way.”

She returned his smile. “That’s because I always do get my way.”

Kit slipped one arm behind her knees. Placing his other behind her back he scooped her up, carried her to the lower bunk and sat, positioning her on his lap. Putting his hand behind her neck he drew her lips to his and they kissed again.

“Tell me, Kit,” she said, “what would be so wrong with kissing on a first date?”

“It’s too soon,” he replied. “On the first few dates each is getting to know the other ... see if they’re interested.”

“I think we know each other,” she replied. “At least, I think we understand each other. And Kit -- I am interested. I’m as interested as hell.”

“I’m interested, too. To tell the truth, I was interested after that first lab when you poked me.”

“To be honest, I was interested after that lab, too. So, you see Kit -- this doesn’t feel like a first date to me.”

“I suppose you’re right. It doesn’t seem like a first date to me, either.” He placed his hand on her knee, ran it under her dress and up her thigh a short distance and savored her smooth, brown skin. “Just how far are you willing to take this?”

“As far as you want, Kit ... and as fast as you want. You took care of me that night. I know I can trust you.”

“Love is giving and trust,” he remarked. “I know I’m falling in love with you, Nichelle. Are you falling in love with me?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not -- I already have.”

Kit stroked her cheek. “One slight problem tonight ... I didn’t bring any protection. I can run back to my room and see...”

“It’s okay, Kit. I have protection. I have an IUD.”

“An IUD?”

“That’s right, and I don’t have any STDs, Kit ... so unless...”

“I’ve only ever done it with a condom,” he said. “So, if you’re game...”

Nichelle grinned and kissed his lips. “Kit -- the fact you were concerned enough for me to protect me ... I know more than ever I can trust you.”

“My dad had a talk with me before I headed here. I think he imagined college as a place of promiscuity and wild debauchery. He told me he raised me to be a real man, and a real man protects his woman.”

“Spoken like a real man,” she replied.

Kit caressed her face. “You are so pretty,” he said and kissed her forehead. “I love your bedroom eyes.”

“What are bedroom eyes?” she asked. “I’ve heard that expression but don’t know what it means.”

Kit leaned toward her face. She closed her eyes and he kissed her eyelids. “It’s this little extra skin the obscures your eyelid.”

“Oh, that ... That’s why I could never figure out how to wear eye makeup.”

“I’m glad you don’t. Your eyes have a ... dreamy...”

“Drowsy?” she suggested.

“More sensual than that.” He kissed her lips. Nichelle held the back of his head and relaxed her jaw so their tongues touched. Then, she drove her tongue past Kit’s teeth. He drew back, caressing it with his lips.

Kit began awkwardly unbuttoning her dress. “Here,” she said and stood. Nichelle unbuttoned her dress, gathered the hem and lifted it off of her. She folded it and set it on a chair. Standing before him with her arms to her sides she said, “There. What you see is what you get.”

“I like what I see...” Kit regarded her. Underneath the dress she wore a sleek white camisole with matching tap pants. Nichelle was slender and petite from her waist up, however her hips were full and her legs muscular. About two-thirds up her right thigh she had a tattoo that encircled it. It was done in black to mimic a lace garter belt.

She hopped back onto his lap and began unbuttoning his polo shirt. Kit smoothed his hand along her thigh, admiring the tattoo. “How long have you had this?” he asked.

“A couple years. I got it once I turned eighteen.”

“Frankly, I don’t like seeing too much ink on a girl’s body. This, however, is sophisticated, clever and very sexy.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You said you were a runner. I’d like to see you run a race with this showing.”

“I ran my last event long before acquiring that,” she said.

Kit smoothed his hand along the inside of her thigh and down her calf. He noticed a surgical scar. “What happened here?”

“I tripped and fell in a race and wrecked my knee. I needed surgery. It ended my running career.”

“That’s too bad. You don’t run at all, now?”

“Certainly not competitively,” she replied as she tugged the hem of his shirt from his waistband. “Lift your arms.” Nichelle lifted his shirt from him and set it atop her dress on the chair. She ran her hands along his shoulders. “I like what I see, too. It does look like you have some strength in those arms.”

“I’m just a country boy,” he replied. Kit ran the backs of his fingers along Nichelle’s camisole. “This is very pretty. It’s satin?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“It looks good against your dark skin.” Kit traced the outline of the bodice, starting with one shoulder strap and running his finger down, across and up again.

“I can’t ever find underwear that fits me, so I wear this sort of thing instead of a bra.” She made a little snort. “I don’t need one of those -- there’s nothing there to support.”