cigarette perched between my lips. sat on the sidewalk, i stared silently at him. he was smiling, laughing. he looked happy, unlike me. his eyes crinkled, bright, straight teeth showing, dimples appearing on both cheeks.
i froze when he turned, thinking he would catch me staring. but of course he wasn't looking at me. he didn't notice me, the "typical stoned 17-year-old" or "freak." i also got the occasional "emo whore" and "attention-seeking bitch" but let's not get into that.
he was with a girl (who i supposed he was dating) which infuriated me. it was unhealthy for me to keep watching, but i honestly couldn't help it. despite the fact he would never know me, seeing him was addicting. like nicotine.
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nicotine // l.h.
Teen Fictionmy parents warned me about the drugs in the street, but never the ones with bright blue eyes and a heartbeat
