We found ourselves walking along the pier, eventually sitting on the edge. Once we sat down, we took off our shoes, allowing the soles of our feet to skim the surface of the water. All around us, we could hear the water lapping against the shore from a distance and the seagulls calling at each other back and forth, while the wind combed its fingers through our hair. To my left, Tyler started to fidget, struggling to get something out of the pockets of his skinny jeans. I heard a lighter flickering and then going out a few times, I snapped my head to look at him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He looked at me, innocently, with a cigarette lazily hanging out of his mouth.
“This, my dear Lilian, is a ciga-”
I interrupted him, “I know what it is!” Tyler continued to look at me, still clueless as to why I am reacting this way.
“Is there an issue?”
“N-no, just, don’t blow the smoke in my face.” I trailed off while silence enclosed us for a minute. The tension was there, but he acted as if our previous and brief conversation did not happen. As I looked at him from the corner of my eye, my mind kept bouncing back to ‘The Fault In Our Stars’.
“Is it a metaphor?” My voice was small and playful, awaiting his response.
“No, it’s a cigarette.” One side of his mouth flicked up slightly, as a chuckle slipped away from his chapped lips. "Wanna tell me why you just chewed my head off? You don’t have to, of course.”
“My dad. He, uh, died from lung cancer.” As soon as I revealed this part of my past, his smirk was wiped off like cheap lipstick.
“Oh, crap, sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” The hand that wasn't holding the cig, rose to nervously run through his hair.
“It’s fine, really. I mean, I miss him, but it happened a long time ago.” I gave him a reassuring smile to assure him that I wouldn’t spontaneously burst into tears right before his eyes. While I was talking, Tyler moved the cigarette to the other hand. It took me a while to realize what he was doing. “Tyler, you don’t have to put it out.”
“Oh, I know. I’m going to drop you off at your house, it’s getting late.” He jumped up quickly, stomped out the smoke, and bent down to pull me up. "Shall we, my dear Lilian?" He held out his arm, urging me to put my hand in the crook of his elbow. I pointed out the direction of my house, as we left the abandoned cigarette ash billowing blown away by the soft breeze.
~~~~
Tyler waved goodbye from across the street, as opened the door to my house. I closed the door behind me, when a train of realization hit me. Crap, I didn't get his number, I thought. I sprinted to my front door. He couldn't have gone too far.
However, when I opened the door, Tyler was no where in sight. Sighing in defeat, I closed the door once again.
YOU ARE READING
Cigarettes
Short Story"Is it a metaphor?" "No, it's a cigarette." {Book 1 in The Toxic Series}
