RISK & REWARD ✔️

12 | 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

Slade doesn't speak as we stride down the sidewalk, side-by-side. The air between us is different now; I steal glances at my companion every now and then. She's never looking back at me; her eyes are fast straight ahead, ever-so-slightly shut against the drifting snow. When a tiny bluster of wind picks up, lifting her hair back, I realize there are tiny white flakes sitting in the dark, thick line of her lashes.

She's pretty, I think. She's very pretty.

I don't tell her that.

We arrive at an empty bus stop, and I expect her to leave, but she doesn't. Actually, she stops right outside the canopied seating area and instead opts to lean up against it, arms folded over her chest.

"You don't want to come in?" I look over at the empty bench beside me, brushing the thin layer of blown snow off of the wood. "There's room."

Slade glances over. "I'm fine."

I raise a brow. So does she.

"Hurts when I sit down."

Oh. That's true. I just give her a little "oh" in response, tucking my knees up to my chest.

I feel bad, letting her stand out in the snow, but if it's what she prefers.

A few minutes pass; the bus should be arriving any time now, and it's still a dead stop. No cars on the streets, no lights save for the streetlamps glowing in the pre-winter haze. Just me, an empty bench, and Slade, who's got her head tilted down, face stooped against the snow. She's pulled her hood up, tugging it around her face; a few loose locks of hair run wild around her face, having escaped the warm bucket of her hood.

I think I doze off, because I come to when I'm about to slump over onto the bench. I hear a little click from beside me; when I look over, I find Slade with a cigarette between her lips, brow pinched in focus. She's got a tiny lighter between her hands, fostering a little golden flame that licks toward her cigarette and eagerly seeds in the butt of it.

Her eyes flutter shut as she takes a long drag off of it, end glowing in the foggy light as she takes it between her fore and middle finger and lets a long stream of silver smoke out from between her lips.

"You smoke?" she asks when she notices me watching, gaze flicking toward me. When I shake my head, she just scoffs and lifts the cigarette back to her mouth.

"Keep it that way." Another long jet of veiled smoke. "Better off."

The squeal of tires on slick road breaks me from my daze. Two long, pale lights ribbon through the dark; I squint against the white glow, limbs cracking as, slowly, I manage to rise to my feet. Slade straightens beside the bus stop, body stiff in the cold.

"Are you sure you're okay to go home?" I glance over at Slade, who's watching the approaching bus with lidded eyes. "It's late, I don't want you to get hurt either."

"I'm fine," Slade replies, squinting against the snow. She shies back ever-so-slightly before the bus comes to a halt, slinking away from the light. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay gettin' home?"

I gulp. "The bus only drops me off a few blocks from my apartment."

"That's not a yes." The bus doors swing open. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll manage." I shoot her a wry smile. "If Pierce comes to get me I'll just," and I mime stabbing someone as I take a step toward the bus. "He won't mess with me."

Slade's brow raises and I think I see a little laugh on her lips before her face goes stony again and she nods, folding her arms over her chest.

"Okay."