Creep

A Forest

"Yeah, see you later!" you say with so much enthusiasm the logical side of your brain wants to vomit. The reply is the usual mock salute and the disappearance of the letterman jacket into the shrubs.

No one came out here, right? This was fine. He doesn't want his friends mocking him for having a partner who wasn't a cheerleader. They wouldn't understand. So the options were keeping this romance a secret, or it ends. At least that's what he told you. I mean, romance was a bit of a leap. It mainly was fooling around in secluded places.

You adjust your lose fitting t-shirt back to where it should be and slump to the base of the tree you'd used as a modesty screen. Who were you kidding? This wasn't normal, but it was something, right? Something was better than nothing. Feeling something was better than feeling numb and empty.

Pulling your knees up to your chin, you rest your head on them, letting the tears come if they wanted to, your long dark hair shielding you from the prying eyes of a passing squirrel.You feel the annoyance rise in you. You made these choices. You have no one to blame but yourself. The silence of the woods was interrupted by a weird crumpling sound as you punched the ground next to you. Investigating a bit further under some leaf litter, a mostly empty pack of Camels cigarettes with a lighter tucked neatly inside. They must have fallen out of his pocket during forest fun time. You've earned one, at least.

Taking the cigarette between your lips, you light it and inhale deeply. On the exhale, you close your eyes and sigh, "Thanks, universe."

"I personally think you'll find you should be thanking something much less vast but equally as awesome for those smokes," a voice chirps to start with but falls into a mischievous "You little thief!"

You jolt at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, jumping to your feet, heart pounding, dropping the lit cigarette in the process, which catches your arm enough for you to instinctively pull your arm upwards and accidentally clock yourself under the chin.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, reeling from your own accidental strength; as you touch your jaw and look up, all you see is a person doubled up, howling with laughter at you. Occasionally they try to catch their breath, but when they meet your gaze, they just erupt with laughter once more. The noise of their rings against the wood of the table, as they slap it between fits of giggles, echos through the once peaceful area.

With tears of laughter and in-between laughing, the wolfish grin says, "Do...do it again...Jesus Christ, that was funny... I haven't laughed this much in years."

"You're Welcome, Munson," you manage, as the heat from your embarrassment feels as though you could become the epicenter of a bonfire right now.

Embarrassed but not angry, you breathe and attempt to hold a conversation. Running away might have been your first instinct, but you hadn't waited long enough to emerge from here. At least 10 minutes he'd said.

"What are you doing out here anyway? No one comes out here. So what's a person gotta do for some peace and quiet around here?"

"Firstly, that's my line." He smiles as he wags his finger at you. He smiles broadly, slapping his hands on his knees as he gets up from the bench. He looks you up and down. "Secondly, I doubt any peace was had out here, maybe a battle of appendages" You cringe inwardly, trying desperately not to avert your gaze to confirm shame. He gets closer and searches your eyes with his own "hmmm...but who with?". He hops a step towards you, inches from your face. He looks down at your hands and, in a soft low rasp, says, "Thirdly, my dear, these are mine," as he takes the lighter and cigarettes from your pocket.

The smell of car oil, incense, and a sweet, smoky aroma hit you all at once. It's almost intoxicating.

He struts back to his seat, spins around to face you and lights a cigarette in one fluid motion, takes a drag, and says,