Chapter 8: Kitchen Talk and Quickie
The coffee maker gurgled its last wet breath, and Jaz poured two mugs, black for her, oat milk and honey for Nicole. The kitchen smelled like roasted beans and yesterday's dumplings, and something sweet underneath—incense from the night before, maybe, or the way Nicole's skin held onto sleep.
Nicole sat on the counter, legs dangling, bare feet knocking against the cabinets. She wore one of Jaz's old practice shirts and nothing else, the hem riding up her thighs every time she reached for another dumpling. Her hair was a wild, unbrushed cloud around her face. She looked like a painting someone had left unfinished on purpose.
Jaz handed her the mug. Nicole took it without looking, her attention on the takeout container in her lap.
"You're gonna eat all those," Jaz said.
"These are mine. You had your chance last night."
"I was busy last night."
"Exactly." Nicole popped a cold dumpling into her mouth and chewed slowly, deliberately. "So these are mine."
Jaz leaned against the counter, close enough to feel the heat coming off Nicole's body. The window above the sink let in a wash of pale morning light that caught the steam rising from her cup. A pigeon landed on the fire escape, eyed them through the glass, and decided they weren't interesting.
"I talked to Rayna this morning," Jaz said.
"Before I woke up?"
"Texted. She's insufferable."
"She's always insufferable."
"No, like—extra insufferable. She keeps sending me screenshots of dating apps. Asking me to help her write openers." Jaz took a sip of coffee. "One of them said, and I quote, 'I'm looking for someone who can handle my energy.'"
Nicole winced. "That's bleak."
"She needs to get laid."
"She needs more than that. She needs someone who can match her." Nicole set the takeout container aside and wrapped both hands around her mug. "Rayna's loud. She's intense. She needs someone who isn't scared of that. Someone who can give it right back."
Jaz raised an eyebrow. "You got someone in mind?"
Nicole's mouth curved. Slow. Knowing.
"I might."
"Tell me."
"I have this friend. Dani. Puerto Rican, like me. Poet. She does spoken word at this little café downtown every other Thursday." Nicole took a sip of coffee. "Mouth like a sailor. I mean, she can curse in three languages and make it sound like poetry. Heart of gold under all of it. She'd eat Rayna alive."
"Figuratively or literally?"
"Both, probably." Nicole shrugged. "Rayna needs someone who won't flinch. Dani doesn't flinch. She leans in."
Jaz grinned. "Okay, I'm listening."
"There's also Priya. She's—" Nicole paused. Tilted her head. "She looks innocent. Like, really innocent. Big doe eyes, soft voice, wears cardigans. But she has this mean streak. In bed. Like, she likes to be in control. She likes to make you beg for it."
"Rayna doesn't beg."
"Exactly. That's the point."
Jaz set her mug down. Crossed her arms. The ideas were already spinning, already forming into something real.
"So we bring them to the kickback."
"What kickback?"
"The team kickback. Next weekend. Coach is hosting at his place, doing burgers and beers in the backyard. Low-key thing. No pressure." Jaz shrugged. "Perfect setup. Rayna's already coming. You bring Dani and Priya. Let them all meet. No expectations. Just—"
"Chaos."
"Chaos. Yeah."
Nicole laughed. It was a real laugh, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made her whole body shake. She set her mug down and swung her legs over the edge of the counter, hopping off.
"You're trying to set up a love connection or just create a mess?" she asked.
"Both."
"Both." Nicole stepped closer. The practice shirt had ridden up, and Jaz could see the curve of her hips, the softness of her stomach, the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric. "You're dangerous."
"I'm helpful."
"You're a menace."
"Same thing."
Nicole reached up. Took the waistband of Jaz's boxers between her fingers. Tugged.
Jaz didn't move.
"You want something?" Jaz asked.
"I think I deserve a reward."
"For what?"
"For being so agreeable. For helping you plan this whole thing. For giving you the idea that's gonna change Rayna's life." Nicole tugged again, harder. "Or at least get her laid."
"Rayna's life isn't your responsibility."
"It's not." Nicole stepped closer, close enough that her breath was warm against Jaz's throat. "But you asked. And I said yes. That deserves something."
Jaz looked down at her. At the mess of her hair and the sleep still in her eyes and the way her lips parted, just slightly, as she waited.
"You gonna make me work for it?" Jaz asked.
"I'm not making you do anything."
"Bullshit."
"Fine." Nicole leaned in. Her mouth brushed the shell of Jaz's ear. "I want you on your knees. I want your mouth on me. I want to come on your tongue before the coffee gets cold."
Jaz's jaw tightened. Her hands curled at her sides.
"Then let go of my boxers."
Nicole let go.
Jaz dropped.
The kitchen tile was cold against her knees, a shock that ran up her thighs and settled somewhere low in her gut. She looked up—Nicole standing above her, backlit by the window, the practice shirt bunched at her waist, her thighs bare, her cunt already glistening.
"You're so fucking pretty," Jaz murmured.
"Less talking."
Jaz didn't talk.
She pushed Nicole's legs apart. Hooked her hands under her thighs. Pulled her forward until Nicole's hips tilted, until she was open, exposed, perfect. And then she put her mouth on her.
The first lick was slow. A flat stroke of her tongue from Nicole's entrance to her clit, tasting salt and skin and everything she'd been dreaming about since she woke up. Nicole's hands flew to Jaz's head, fingers threading through her hair, gripping tight.
"Fuck," Nicole breathed.
Jaz licked again. Slower this time. Teased her clit with the tip of her tongue, then pulled back, then pressed in again. She was in no hurry. The coffee could wait. The dumplings could wait. The whole world could wait.
Nicole's legs started to shake.
"Jaz—"
"Mm?"
"Don't tease."
Jaz laughed against her. Low. Dark. She added two fingers, slid them inside, curled them up. Nicole gasped. Her hips bucked.
"Like that?"
"Yes—fuck—like that—"
Jaz worked her fingers in and out. Slow and deep. Her tongue kept moving, steady circles, steady pressure. Nicole's fingers tightened in her hair. Her breathing came in short, sharp bursts.
"I'm close," Nicole whispered.
"I know."
"Don't stop."
"I won't."
Jaz sucked Nicole's clit between her lips. Soft pressure. Hard suction. Nicole's back arched. Her heels dug into the floor. And then she broke.
She came with a cry that was half-moan, half-swearing, her whole body curling forward, her cunt clenching around Jaz's fingers. Jaz kept working her—slower now, gentler—until Nicole's hands pushed at her head and she yelped from the overstimulation.
Jaz pulled back. Wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Looked up.
Nicole was staring down at her. Chest heaving. Eyes wild.
"Get up," Nicole said.
"Why?"
"I want you to fuck me."
"Where?"
"Here." Nicole turned. Braced her hands on the edge of the kitchen island. Bent over. The practice shirt rode up, exposing her ass, the curve of her spine, the soft folds of her cunt still wet and open. "Right here."
Jaz stood up. Her knees popped. She didn't care.
She grabbed Nicole's hips. Adjusted her angle. Pressed the head of her cock against Nicole's entrance.
"Ready?"
"Shut up and fuck me."
Jaz pushed inside.
Nicole gasped. Her fingers curled around the edge of the island, knuckles going white. Jaz went slow—inch by inch—watching the way Nicole's body opened for her, the way her back curved, the way her breath caught.
"You okay?"
"More."
Jaz pulled out. Thrust back in.
"More."
She gave her more.
She fucked Nicole with a rhythm that was punishing and precise. Hard strokes that pushed Nicole forward, that made the island groan against the floor. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the kitchen. Wet and loud and obscene.
"Harder," Nicole said.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't. Harder."
Jaz slammed into her. Once. Twice. Three times. Nicole cried out—not pain, not quite pleasure, something in between that made Jaz's whole body vibrate.
"You like that?"
"Yes—fuck yes—"
"You like my cock in your pussy?"
"God, Jaz—"
"Say it."
"I love it—I love your cock—I love—"
Jaz grabbed Nicole's hair. Pulled her head back. Bent her deeper.
"You gonna come again?"
"Yes—"
"On my cock?"
"Yes—"
"Then come."
The command hit like a slap. Nicole's body convulsed. She screamed—a raw, broken sound that echoed off the cabinets and the walls and the coffee that had long gone cold. Her cunt clenched around Jaz, tight and hot and perfect.
Jaz didn't stop. She fucked her through it. Kept pounding until Nicole's scream turned into a sob, until her legs gave out, until she collapsed forward onto the island with Jaz still buried inside her.
And then Jaz came. Not physically—she didn't have that equipment—but something else. Something in her chest that cracked open and spilled out. She pressed her forehead to Nicole's back. Breathed her in.
"Fuck," Nicole whispered.
"Yeah."
"My legs don't work."
"I know."
"I think I'm gonna fall."
Jaz pulled out. Caught her. Turned her around and lifted her onto the island, so they were face to face. Nicole's eyes were wet. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were swollen.
"You okay?" Jaz asked.
"I'm amazing." Nicole laughed—breathless, shaky. "I'm so amazing."
Jaz kissed her. Soft this time. Tender.
When they pulled apart, Nicole looked past her at the coffee mugs on the counter.
"You owe me fresh coffee," Nicole said.
"I'll make you a whole pot."
"You better."
Jaz kissed her again. Then she stepped back, grabbed the mugs, and poured them both fresh cups. Her hands were steady. Her heart was full.
Outside, the pigeon had flown away. The sun was climbing higher. The city was waking up.
And somewhere across town, Rayna was probably sending another terrible opener to a stranger who didn't deserve her.
Jaz smiled.
"Call Dani," she said. "Call Priya. Tell them Saturday."
"Saturday," Nicole agreed.
"Saturday."
They drank their coffee in the wrecked kitchen, sunlight pooling around their feet, and planned the chaos to come.
They drank the coffee in the wrecked kitchen, sunlight pooling around their feet, and planned the chaos to come.
Nicole fired off texts to Dani and Priya while Jaz cleaned up the disaster they'd made—the dumpling container, the cold mugs, the lube still sitting on the counter like a confession. The coffee had gone tepid, but neither of them cared. Nicole read the replies aloud, laughing at Priya's response, which was just a string of emojis that somehow conveyed both enthusiasm and menace.
Dani wanted to know if Rayna was "actually hot or just hot for a straight girl," which made Jaz snort so hard she nearly choked on her last sip. She typed back, "Hot. Very. And she plays center. You'll love her."
The week crawled by after that.
Practice ran long every day. Coach worked them like he was punishing Jaz for something she hadn't done, drills until her knees ached and her lungs burned. She didn't mind. Sweat was simpler than feelings. Sweat she could control.
Rayna caught on by Wednesday.
"You're up to something," she said, sitting on the locker room bench, hair still dripping. "You've got that face."
"What face?"
"The face you make when you're planning something that's gonna get me in trouble."
Jaz just smiled and shrugged. Let her stew. That was half the fun.
Friday night, Jaz sat on the floor of Nicole's living room while Nicole braided her hair—tiny, intricate braids she'd learned from her abuela, fingers moving fast and certain. Mami the cat watched from the windowsill, unimpressed.
"You nervous?" Nicole asked.
"About what? Rayna's the one meeting two women who might eat her alive."
"Not about that. About tomorrow. The team. Everyone meeting—" she gestured vaguely, "—us."
Jaz was quiet for a second. The braid tugged at her scalp. Not painful. Grounding.
"No," she said finally. "I'm not nervous."
"Really?"
"Really." Jaz turned her head, just enough to catch Nicole's eye. "I told Coach. I told Rayna. I told you. At this point, being scared would be a lot of wasted energy."
Nicole kissed the top of her head. Said nothing. Kept braiding.
Saturday arrived hot and loud and full of people.
Coach's backyard was a sprawl of trampled grass, folding tables, coolers, and a grill so old it looked like it might fall apart but somehow kept producing perfect burgers. Half the team was already there, sprawled on lawn chairs, shoving food into their mouths. Someone had brought a massive Bluetooth speaker and was playing a mix that swung wildly from dancehall to early 2000s R&B.
Jaz and Nicole walked in together, and a few heads turned. Just a few. Nobody made it weird. Rayna spotted them from across the yard and started elbowing through the crowd toward them.
"You made it," Rayna said, pulling Jaz into a one-armed hug.
"I told you we were coming."
"You also told me you were coming. So I didn't know."
Jaz shook her head. Nicole hugged Rayna next, quick and warm.
"Your friends coming?" Rayna asked, trying to sound casual. She failed completely. Her voice cracked on the word friends.
"Should be here any minute," Nicole said.
Rayna licked her lips. Glanced at the gate.
"Relax," Jaz said. "They're just people."
"Nobody's just anything when you look like that."
Jaz looked at Nicole. Nicole looked back. They both bit back smiles.
Dani arrived first.
She came through the gate like she was walking onto a stage—head high, hips swaying, a grin already spreading across her face. She wore cutoff shorts that showed off legs for days, a cropped tank top, and hoop earrings big enough to serve dinner on. Her hair was up in a messy bun that looked effortless but probably took forty minutes.
She spotted Nicole and squealed. Ran over. Hugged her so tight Nicole's feet lifted off the ground.
"Look at you," Dani said, holding Nicole at arm's length. "Happy. Disgustingly happy. I hate it."
"You love it."
"I love it." Dani turned to Jaz. Her eyes traveled up—way up—and her grin widened. "So you're the basketball player."
"I'm Jaz."
"You're also tall." Dani stepped back, still grinning. "I mean, damn. Nicole said you were tall but I thought she was exaggerating."
"I don't exaggerate," Nicole said.
"She doesn't," Jaz confirmed.
Dani laughed. Loud and genuine and exactly the kind of laugh that made everyone around her feel like they were in on the joke.
Then Rayna made her way over.
Jaz watched Dani's face change. The grin softened. The eyes sharpened. She looked at Rayna the way you look at a meal you've been anticipating all day.
"You're Rayna," Dani said.
"I am."
"Jaz didn't tell me you were pretty."
Rayna blinked. "She didn't—I mean—thank you?"
"You're welcome."
Priya arrived ten minutes later.
She was the opposite of Dani in every way—soft-spoken, small, wearing wide-leg linen pants and a thin white blouse that made her look like she'd just come from a poetry reading or a protest or both. Her hair was in neat box braids down her back. Her smile was gentle.
Until she opened her mouth.
"You must be Rayna," Priya said, voice like velvet. "Dani wouldn't stop talking about you on the drive over. It was exhausting."
Rayna looked at Dani. Dani shrugged, unapologetic.
"I like your energy," Priya continued, stepping closer. Too close. Close enough that Rayna had to tilt her head down to meet her eyes. "It's big. Uncomfortable. Loud. I like that."
"I—" Rayna started. Stopped.
"You're flustered," Priya observed. "That's cute."
Jaz turned to Nicole. Nicole was already grinning.
"We're not watching this," Jaz said.
"The hell we're not." Nicole grabbed two drinks from the nearest cooler, handed one to Jaz, and pulled her toward a bench where they could see everything.
So they watched.
Dani was relentless. She stayed on Rayna's left the entire afternoon, touching her arm, leaning in when she spoke, telling stories that were clearly designed to impress. She talked about the spoken word night, about a poem she'd written about her grandmother's hands. Then she switched gears and told a joke so filthy it made Rayna choke on her burger.
Priya stayed on Rayna's right. Quieter. More patient. She didn't compete with Dani. She didn't have to. She just waited for the gaps—a glance that lingered too long, a hand on the small of Rayna's back that no one else could see.
By the time the sun started dropping, Rayna was a mess.
Her face was flushed. Her laugh was too loud. She kept fanning herself with a paper plate and blaming the heat, but everyone knew the heat wasn't the problem.
Jaz and Nicole sat on the bench, eating cold burgers and drinking beer, watching the disaster unfold with the purest joy.
"She's gonna explode," Nicole said.
"She's gonna combust."
"Should we rescue her?"
"Absolutely not."
They laughed. Clinked bottles.
The team drifted around them—freshmen playing cornhole, seniors arguing about the NBA, Coach flipping burgers and pretending not to eavesdrop. The speaker switched to a slower song, something with a bass line that made the air feel thick.
Jaz finished her burger and stood. Held out her hand.
"Dance with me."
"Here? In front of everyone?"
"Especially here."
Nicole took her hand. Jaz pulled her close. They swayed more than danced—cheek to cheek, arms wrapped around each other, the world shrinking to the space between their bodies.
"Holy shit," Nicole whispered.
"What?"
"Rayna's letting them touch her."
Jaz turned her head. Sure enough—Dani had one hand on Rayna's hip. Priya had the other on her shoulder. Rayna was standing there, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, looking like she was either about to scream or cry or kiss them both.
"Should we—"
"Nope."
They kept dancing.
The song changed again. Faster this time. Somebody grabbed Nicole's hand and pulled her into a bigger circle, where half the team was jumping and spinning and laughing. Jaz followed. Within minutes they were part of it—all of them, Dani and Priya and Rayna too, the whole group dissolving into a sweaty, joyful mess of arms and legs and off-beat clapping.
Rayna ended up between Dani and Priya in the circle. They flanked her like they'd planned it. Every time she moved, they moved with her. Every time she laughed, they leaned in a little closer.
"Oh, she's done for," Nicole said, voice raised over the music.
"She was done the second Dani walked in."
"Should we form a rescue team?"
"Absolutely not." Jaz wrapped an arm around Nicole's waist, pulled her out of the circle, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Weekend's not over yet."
The night stretched on.
Burgers became brownies. Beer became something stronger someone had smuggled in. The string lights Coach had hung years ago flickered against the dark, casting everything in a soft, forgiving glow. People paired off in corners, talking low. Rayna had disappeared to a hammock with Dani and Priya wedged on either side, and nobody had seen her since.
Jaz and Nicole claimed a patch of grass near the fence.
Nicole lay back, head on Jaz's thigh. Jaz traced shapes on her shoulder, watching the stars blink into place.
"Happy?" Nicole asked.
"Yeah."
"Me too."
They lay there in comfortable silence. The music slowed. The conversations got quieter. Somewhere across the yard, Rayna was either having the best night of her life or losing her mind entirely—maybe both. Jaz didn't need to know which. Some things were better left to unfold.
The night was warm. The grass was soft. Nicole's breath evened out against Jaz's leg.
Jaz closed her eyes and let herself feel it—all of it. The quiet. The chaos. The woman in her lap. The certainty that whatever came next, whatever drama the season brought, whatever words Coach had for her at the next meeting, she wasn't walking into any of it alone.
That was enough.
That was more than enough.