Chapter 6: Backseat Confession
The apartment door barely closed before Nicole had Jaz pressed against it, fingers working the buttons of her shirt with frantic precision.
The hallway light bled through the gaps in the blinds, striping the walls in pale gold. Incense clung to the air—lavender, earthy and sweet—mixing with the faint ghost of last night's dinner. Somewhere in the apartment, a radiator hissed. The whole place felt warm and close and alive, like a held breath.
Jaz's back hit the door. Her head thunked against the wood. She didn't care.
Nicole kissed her like she was trying to crawl inside her skin.
"Bedroom," Jaz managed between kisses. "Where's the—"
"Left. End of the hall."
They stumbled through the dark, knocking into a bookshelf, a chair, something that clattered to the floor and rolled. Nicole laughed against Jaz's mouth—a low, breathless sound—and kept pulling her forward.
The bedroom was small and cluttered and perfect. Moonlight poured through a window framed by gauzy curtains. Plants crowded every surface. A tapestry hung crooked on the wall, depicting something Jaz couldn't make out in the dim light. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled, and it smelled like Nicole—like coconut and shea and something warm underneath.
Nicole pushed her.
Jaz hit the mattress with a grunt, arms splayed, staring up at the ceiling. Before she could move, Nicole was on top of her, knees bracketing her hips, hair falling loose around her face.
"You," Nicole said, "have been driving me crazy all night."
"Me?"
"The dress. The staring. The way you touched my back like you owned it."
"I don't own anything."
"You're right." Nicole leaned down, lips brushing Jaz's ear. "You don't."
Jaz's breath caught.
Nicole sat back up and went to work on the button-down. She took her time. Each button slipped free with a soft pop. Each inch of brown skin revealed earned a kiss—collarbone, sternum, the flat plane of Jaz's stomach. The Cuban chain caught the moonlight, links gleaming.
Nicole traced it with one finger. "This is nice."
"My mom gave it to me. Graduation."
"I like it." Nicole lifted it over Jaz's head and set it carefully on the nightstand. "I'll give it back."
"You better."
"I will." Nicole kissed her jaw. "After."
Jaz's shirt fell open. Nicole pushed it off her shoulders, and Jaz shrugged out of it, letting it pool somewhere on the floor. She reached for Nicole's dress, fingers finding the zipper at the side, but Nicole caught her wrist.
"Not yet."
"What?"
"I said not yet." Nicole pinned Jaz's wrists to the mattress, one on either side of her head. Her grip was firm—not painful, but absolute. "Stay put."
Jaz's heart hammered. "You're bossy."
"You love it."
"I—"
"Shh." Nicole kissed her quiet. "Let me take care of you."
She released Jaz's wrists. Jaz kept them where they were.
Nicole's mouth moved south. She kissed the hollow of Jaz's throat, the dip between her collarbones, the curve of her breast above the sports bra. Her teeth grazed the fabric. Jaz hissed.
"Off," Nicole murmured. "This needs to come off."
She tugged the bra up and over Jaz's head. Jaz's breasts spilled free—full, dark, nipples already hard. The cool air hit them, and Jaz shivered.
Nicole looked down at her. Really looked. Her eyes traveled from Jaz's face to her chest to the waistband of her jeans and back up again.
"Fuck," Nicole whispered.
"What?"
"You're gorgeous. I knew you'd be gorgeous. But this is—" She shook her head. "You're a lot."
"I've been told."
"Not like that." Nicole's voice dropped. "I mean you're a lot to handle. In the best way."
Jaz didn't have a response. Nicole didn't wait for one.
She lowered her head and took Jaz's nipple into her mouth.
Jaz arched off the bed. "Shit—"
Nicole sucked hard, tongue flat against the peak, and Jaz's hands flew to her hair. She tangled her fingers in those dark waves and held on.
"Fuck, Nicole."
Nicole hummed against her skin. The vibration shot straight to Jaz's cunt. She was already wet—had been since the car, since the party, since the first moment Nicole walked into that classroom months ago and refused to be impressed.
Nicole switched to the other breast. Same treatment. Lick, suck, graze of teeth. Jaz squirmed beneath her, hips rolling, seeking friction that wasn't there.
"Please," Jaz breathed.
"Please what?"
"Please—fuck—do something."
"I am doing something." Nicole kissed down her sternum, over her stomach, tongue dipping into her navel. "I'm enjoying you."
"Nicole—"
"Patience."
Jaz groaned. She was going to lose her mind.
Nicole's hands found the button of her jeans. She popped it open, dragged the zipper down, and hooked her fingers into the waistband.
"Lift up."
Jaz obeyed. Nicole pulled the jeans down her legs, taking her underwear with them, and tossed them aside. Jaz lay there, completely bare, completely exposed, the moonlight painting her in shades of silver and shadow.
Nicole sat back on her heels. Her dress was still on. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were swollen and red. She looked like something out of a dream.
"You're not gonna take that off?" Jaz asked.
"Eventually." Nicole's hands slid up Jaz's thighs, pushing them apart. "Right now, I have other plans."
"Like what?"
Nicole answered with her mouth.
She kissed the inside of Jaz's thigh—soft, teasing, so close to where Jaz needed her that it almost hurt. Then the other thigh. Then higher. Then higher still.
When her tongue finally touched Jaz's cunt, Jaz saw stars.
"FUCK—"
Nicole didn't stop. She licked a long, slow stripe from Jaz's entrance to her clit, and Jaz's whole body jerked. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her heels dug into the mattress.
"You taste good," Nicole murmured against her. "Better than I imagined."
"You imagined this?"
"Every night for a month."
"Fuck, Nicole—"
Nicole's tongue flicked her clit. Jaz's brain short-circuited.
She worked her like that—slow circles, firm pressure, switching between broad licks and focused flicks. Jaz couldn't keep still. Her hips bucked, her thighs trembled, her breath came in ragged gasps.
"Don't stop," she begged. "Please don't stop."
"I'm not stopping."
Nicole slid two fingers inside her.
Jaz cried out—a raw, broken sound that echoed off the walls. Nicole curled her fingers, found the spot, and pressed while her tongue kept working Jaz's clit.
"You're so wet," Nicole said. "So fucking wet for me."
"Yeah—yes—fuck—"
"Say my name."
"Nicole—"
"Again."
"Nicole—"
"Again."
"NICOLE—"
The orgasm hit her like a truck. Her back arched so hard her spine cracked. Her vision went white. She came on Nicole's fingers and tongue, shaking, gasping, completely undone.
Nicole worked her through it. Gentle now. Soft licks and slow pumps. Until Jaz collapsed against the mattress, boneless and trembling.
"Jesus Christ," Jaz whispered.
Nicole crawled up her body. Her lips were slick, her chin wet, her eyes dark with something that made Jaz's stomach flip.
"Okay?" Nicole asked.
"More than okay."
"Good." Nicole kissed her. Jaz tasted herself on Nicole's tongue—salty and intimate and so fucking hot it made her dizzy. "Because I'm not done with you."
"No?"
"No." Nicole sat up and reached for the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled it open, rummaged for a moment, and produced a harness—black leather, soft with wear.
Jaz's breath caught.
"You want this?" Nicole asked.
"I want this."
"You sure?"
"I said I want it." Jaz's voice came out rough. "Get the strap."
Nicole smiled. She stood up and shimmied out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor. Then her underwear. Then she was naked, all curves and warm brown skin, and Jaz couldn't breathe.
"You're so beautiful," Jaz said.
"Shh." Nicole stepped into the harness and adjusted the straps. Then she retrieved a dildo from the drawer—deep purple, curved, thicker than two of Jaz's fingers. She fitted it to the harness with practiced ease.
Jaz watched. Her heart pounded.
"Spread your legs," Nicole said.
Jaz did.
Nicole climbed onto the bed. She knelt between Jaz's thighs, the strap jutting forward, slick with lube. She leaned down and kissed Jaz—soft, reassuring.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Nicole pushed inside her.
Jaz gasped. The stretch was slow, deliberate, inch by inch. Nicole watched her face the whole time—every flicker of pleasure, every twinge of discomfort.
"You okay?"
"Keep going."
Nicole did. She bottomed out, hips flush against Jaz's, and paused.
"Look at me," Nicole said.
Jaz's eyes opened. They locked onto Nicole's.
"Stay with me," Nicole whispered.
"I'm here."
Nicole pulled out—slow, so slow—and pushed back in.
Jaz's mouth fell open. No sound came out.
Nicole set a rhythm. Deep. Steady. Unhurried. She fucked Jaz like she had all the time in the world, like she wanted to memorize every inch of her.
"Fuck," Jaz breathed. "That's—fuck—"
"You feel so good. So fucking good."
"You too—God, you too—"
Nicole's hips snapped forward. Jaz cried out.
"You like that?"
"Yeah—yes—more—"
Nicole gave her more. Faster now. Harder. The headboard knocked against the wall. The mattress creaked. Sweat slicked their skin.
"Touch yourself," Nicole said.
"What?"
"Touch your clit. I want to feel you come on me."
Jaz's hand slid between them. Her fingers found her clit, slick and sensitive, and she worked it in time with Nicole's thrusts.
"Close," she gasped. "I'm close—"
"Come for me."
"I—"
"Now, Jaz. Come now."
And she did.
The second orgasm ripped through her—sharper than the first, more intense. She clenched around the strap, body convulsing, mouth open in a silent scream. Nicole didn't stop. She kept fucking her through it, watching her face, their eyes locked.
When Jaz finally went limp, Nicole slowed. Gentle strokes. Until Jaz whimpered from overstimulation and Nicole pulled out.
"Shh," Nicole whispered. "I've got you."
Jaz couldn't move. Couldn't speak. She lay there, chest heaving, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
Nicole unbuckled the harness and let it fall. Then she collapsed beside Jaz, face turned toward her, one hand resting on Jaz's stomach.
The room was quiet. Just their breathing. Just the hum of the radiator.
"Holy shit," Jaz finally said.
Nicole laughed. Soft and warm. "Yeah."
"I think you broke me."
"I hope not." Nicole kissed her shoulder. "I have plans for you."
"Who says I'm staying?"
"You're staying."
Jaz turned her head. Looked at Nicole. The moonlight caught the curve of her jaw, the swell of her lips, the warmth in her eyes.
"Am I?"
"Yes." Nicole traced a slow pattern on Jaz's stomach. "You're staying."
Jaz closed her eyes. Breathed. The taste of herself was still on her tongue. The ache between her legs was deep and satisfying. The weight of Nicole's hand was warm and real.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?"
"Yeah." Jaz opened her eyes. "I'm staying."
Nicole smiled—that slow, warm smile that made Jaz's heart stutter.
"Good," Nicole said. "Because I wasn't letting you leave."
Jaz laughed. Exhausted. Content. Sore in the best way.
Tomorrow, there would be practice. Classes. Text messages from Rayna demanding details. The world would intrude, as it always did. But right now, in this moment, there was only this: Nicole's body curled against hers, the hum of the radiator, the faint scent of lavender.
Jaz turned her head. Kissed Nicole's forehead.
"Sleep," she whispered.
"You first."
"You're impossible."
"I know."
Jaz closed her eyes. Let the exhaustion pull her under. And for the first time in a long time, she felt something she couldn't name—something warm and steady and terrifying.
It felt like the beginning of everything.
It felt like the beginning of everything.
Jaz woke to sunlight and the smell of coffee.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The ceiling was wrong—too many shadows, too much texture. The sheets were wrong—softer than hers, smelling like someone else. Then Nicole shifted beside her, and everything clicked into place.
Jaz turned her head.
Nicole was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt now—Jaz hadn't seen her put it on—and nothing else.
"How long have you been staring at me?" Jaz asked.
"A while."
"That's creepy."
"That's romantic." Nicole smiled. "There's coffee. I made it while you were snoring."
"I don't snore."
"You absolutely snore. It's cute. Like a little bulldog."
Jaz groaned and rolled onto her back. Her body ached in places she'd forgotten she had. Her thighs were sore. Her wrists were sore. There was a faint mark on her collarbone that she was pretty sure was a hickey.
"You left a mark," she said.
"Good."
"People are going to see."
"Good." Nicole leaned over and kissed the spot. "Let them."
Jaz laughed. It hurt her ribs.
She sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around her waist. The apartment looked different in daylight—cluttered but cozy, plants everywhere, books stacked on every surface. A cat she hadn't noticed the night before was curled in the windowsill, watching her with yellow eyes.
"You have a cat?"
"That's Mami. She hates everyone."
"She's staring at me."
"She's judging you." Nicole swung her legs out of bed. "Come on. Coffee."
The kitchen was small and bright. Dishes sat in the sink. A half-empty bag of coffee beans sat on the counter next to a grinder and a French press. Nicole moved through the space like she'd done this a thousand times—measuring, pouring, waiting.
Jaz leaned against the counter and watched her.
"What?" Nicole asked.
"Nothing. Just... this is nice."
"Don't get sappy on me."
"I'm not sappy."
"You're looking at me like I'm a puppy."
"You're the one who called me a bulldog."
Nicole laughed. She poured two cups and handed one to Jaz. "Here. Black, right?"
"How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess."
They sat on the couch—the same worn leather couch from the study group, Jaz realized—and drank their coffee in comfortable silence. Mami the cat eventually wandered over and sniffed Jaz's ankle before deciding she was acceptable.
"So," Nicole said.
"So."
"Last night."
"Yeah."
"You're not freaking out?"
Jaz considered the question. She waited for the familiar panic to rise—the urge to deflect, to joke, to run. It didn't come.
"I thought I would be," she said. "But I'm not."
"Good."
"Are you?"
Nicole shook her head. "I told you. I don't do things I don't mean."
Jaz took a sip of coffee. The warmth spread through her chest. "What does that mean for us?"
"What do you want it to mean?"
"I'm asking you."
Nicole set her cup down. She turned to face Jaz fully, tucking her legs beneath her. "I want to be with you. Not casually. Not just hooking up. I want to see where this goes."
Jaz's heart stuttered. "You barely know me."
"I know enough." Nicole's voice was steady. "I know you show up for people. I know you're scared of being seen. I know you're funny and charming and you use both to keep people at arm's length."
"That's a lot of knowing."
"I pay attention." Nicole reached out and took Jaz's hand. "I'm not asking for a promise. I'm asking for a chance."
Jaz looked down at their joined hands. Nicole's fingers were warm. Her nails were painted a chipped purple. There was a small scar on her thumb that Jaz hadn't noticed before.
"I don't know how to do this," Jaz admitted.
"Do what?"
"Be with someone. Actually be with someone. I've never—" She stopped. Swallowed. "I've never let anyone get this close."
"Why not?"
"Because it's easier not to." Jaz met her eyes. "If you don't let anyone in, they can't leave."
Nicole was quiet for a moment. Then she squeezed Jaz's hand.
"I'm not going to leave," she said. "But I need you to trust me. And I need you to let me in. Even when it's hard."
"It's always hard."
"Then we'll do it anyway."
Jaz exhaled. The knot in her chest—the one that had been there for as long as she could remember—loosened. Just a little.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Yeah." Jaz squeezed back. "Let's do it anyway."
Nicole smiled. That slow, warm smile that made Jaz feel like she was standing in sunlight.
"Good," Nicole said. "Now finish your coffee. I'm making breakfast."
Jaz ended up on the couch while Nicole cooked. The smell of eggs and onions and peppers filled the apartment. Mami the cat relocated to Jaz's lap and promptly fell asleep.
"Your cat likes me," Jaz called out.
"She tolerates you. There's a difference."
"Feels like the same thing."
Nicole appeared in the doorway holding two plates. "You're learning."
They ate breakfast on the couch. Eggs and peppers, toast, too much hot sauce. Jaz's phone buzzed continuously—texts from Rayna, from Tasha, from the group chat. She ignored them all.
"You're popular," Nicole observed.
"I'm avoiding them."
"Why?"
"Because they're going to ask a million questions. And I don't want to share this yet."
Nicole chewed slowly. "Share what?"
"This. I want to keep it for myself. Just for a little while."
Nicole's expression softened. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." She nudged Jaz with her elbow. "But you're going to have to tell them eventually. You can't hide me forever."
"I don't want to hide you."
"Good. Because I'm not hiding."
Jaz set her plate down. She turned to Nicole, suddenly serious.
"I'm not ashamed of you," she said. "I want to be clear about that. I've dated girls and felt like I had to explain myself. Like I had to justify who I was. I'm not doing that with you."
Nicole's eyes flickered. "Ever?"
"Ever." Jaz took a breath. "You're not a phase. You're not an experiment. You're not something I'm going to look back on and cringe. You're the real thing. And I want people to know."
"So tell them."
"I will. Just—not yet." Jaz smiled. "The world can wait a little longer."
Nicole studied her for a long moment. Then she leaned in and kissed her—soft, gentle, tasting like hot sauce and coffee.
"The world can wait," Nicole agreed. "But your teammates can't. Your phone's been buzzing for ten minutes."
Jaz groaned. "Fine. Give it here."
The group chat was chaos. Tasha had posted a dozen photos from the party. Marcus had started a poll about whether Jaz was going to "wife her up." Rayna had sent a single text: You alive?
Jaz typed back: Alive. Busy.
Rayna's reply came instantly: Busy with WHO?
Jaz: None of your business.
Rayna: So Nicole.
Jaz: No comment.
Rayna: You're blushing right now. I can feel it.
Jaz: I hate you.
Rayna: Love you too. Bring her to lunch tomorrow.
Jaz looked up. Nicole was watching her from the kitchen, drying dishes.
"Rayna wants to have lunch tomorrow," Jaz said. "With you."
"Okay."
"Just like that?"
"I like Rayna." Nicole shrugged. "And I told you. I'm not hiding."
Jaz smiled. "Okay. Lunch tomorrow."
She was about to put her phone down when another text came through. This one wasn't in the group chat. It was from her coach.
Jaz's face went pale.
"What?" Nicole asked.
"Coach just texted." Jaz's voice was tight. "He wants to meet with me tomorrow. Before practice."
"Is that bad?"
"I don't know." Jaz stared at the screen. "It could be about the scouts. Or the team. Or—" She stopped.
"Or what?"
"Or it could be about something else."
Nicole crossed the room and sat beside her. "What else?"
Jaz didn't answer right away. She thought about the season—the games she'd played, the interviews she'd given, the way she'd been putting off certain conversations. She thought about what it meant to be a Black masc lesbian on a team that didn't always know what to do with her. She thought about the things she'd been ignoring for months.
"I'll tell you after I talk to him," she said.
"I want to talk about it now."
"I know. But I need to think first." Jaz reached for her hand. "I promise. No running."
Nicole held her gaze. Longer than was comfortable. Long enough that Jaz felt the weight of the promise hanging between them.
"Okay," Nicole said finally. "But you're not doing this alone. Whatever it is."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Jaz pulled her closer. Pressed a kiss to her temple. Breathed in the scent of her—lavender and coffee and something warm underneath.
"I'm learning," Jaz whispered.
Nicole leaned into her. "Good enough."
They stayed like that for a while—wrapped up in each other, the morning light spilling through the curtains, Mami the cat purring on the armrest. The world was still out there. The coach's text was still waiting. The questions Jaz didn't want to answer were still unanswered.
But right now, none of that mattered.
Right now, there was only this. Only her. Only them.
Jaz closed her eyes and let herself have it.