Smoke Me.

Chapter 3: Near the Sky

His lips were cold.

I shut my eyes without thinking.

Not knowing if I should deepen it or not after my lips touched his.

I simply wished we were frozen in time.

I should take advantage of this moment and force my way in, a whispered thought, at the back of my mind, told me. My frontal, logical side was screaming like a child in the middle of the night.

The fact that one or two minutes have probably passed without any further movement, yet he did not push me away, made me curious.

What is he thinking about?

Regardless, there I was, unable to do more or come up with an excuse that would be one hundred percent bulletproof.

So, I opened my eyes and found that his eyes were already open.

I stepped back and zipped up my pants.

More tears rained down his cheeks. The liquid that had gathered in his eye sockets, like cloud tears collected in the gutters of a roof, escaped freely from the now unblinking eyes. He was not coughing or heavily breathing. Meaning that I succeeded. I froze him.

"I wanted to stop you from crying." That was what I heard myself saying, but even I was able to hear the insecurity that was present in my voice.

Yeah. I, singlehandedly, broke our deal. This sentence echoed itself over and over again and bounced off the walls from inside my brain.

I did not feel bad although I'd just forced him to do something he was not comfortable with. Hell...I've just physically hurt him and probably ruined all chances of us being friends.

Who kisses someone they were punishing a second ago? Did I, by kissing him after saying that I was angry, mean that I was enjoying it?

Wasn't I enjoying it though?

"You were angry..." His hoarse voice, just above a whisper, pointed out the obvious.

I thought so too.

"Yes. Well, now I'm not anymore." I got the small, sealed plastic bag from the back pocket of my jeans and held it awkwardly between us as if it was a peace offering. Except it was not. It was a way out.

I took a step forward, grabbed his limp arm, and lifted it. Placing the small bag in the palm of his hand. Took the other and covered it. He did not seem to be careful or aware of what I was doing. I thought he was going to let it fall onto the ground.

I released his hands and he just kept them there in the exact same position.

I simply caught ahold of his shoulders to lift and then drop him in a different place, so I could leave.

"See you later."

I exited the stall, took my backpack that I had previously hidden in a dark corner, and left the bathroom without another word.

I never got his consent to treat him that way. I have never revealed it as a possibility. I knew he was shocked because I'd usually just stare at him attempting to give a passable blowjob, but I liked it so much that I managed to surprise myself to the point of astonishment.

We never spoke on the phone outside of our little monthly, sometimes weekly appointments. Calling for something so personal made me feel like I was crossing a boundary that has been silently set over time.

Days have gone by without as much as a glance his way. I avoided the lake area just because something within me said that I should apologize. But in the same vein, I couldn't convince myself that held any regret about what has happened in its entirety.