Allison
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"Could I have a drag?" I pipe up, nodding towards the fragile cigarette that sits delicately between his pointer and middle finger. His soft brown eyes flicker between his fingers and my face, smirking to himself. Noting his amusement, I return the smirk as he hands me the smoke.
"What is a pretty girl like you getting into a filthy habit such as this?" He questions, his thick brow arches up in curiosity.
"Is there meant to be a reason?" I question back, meeting his chocolate orbs with my dull green ones. He shrugs, the smirk not once leaving his pink tinted lips.
"We all have reasoning, don't we?" His tongue licks his bottom lip slowly, providing moisture to the small cracks developing. I repeat his shrug from before, casual and cool. Fluttering my eyes close, I wrap my lips around the cigarette before inhaling deeply, allowing the dangerous chemicals to fulfil my lungs before blowing out the excess smoke. Opening my eyes, I pass the cigarette back to him and casually take a seat on the bench opposite him.
"What's your reason, hot stuff?" I chuckle as he stares at me, his chocolate eyes admiring a little too long for comfort.
"It gives me reassurance," he states as he shifts his stare from me to a piece of rubbish dancing in the playful wind next to my foot. "You know, they say that each ciggie brings me closer to death. Funny, you'd think that'd scare me," he looks back up at me to test if I was following, I nod for him to proceed," but it's life that truly scares me."
I stare in awe at the boy before him, his eyes digesting the movements of the piece of trash besides me. His dark hair teases the wind as it dances to the earth's melody, I study the way the sun intensifies the slight highlights in his midnight strands; where the light meets the shadows.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to stare?" His voice is light, signalling the fact he meant it jokingly but deep within his voice irritation was beginning to form.
"She also told me to never speak to strangers." I shoot back, smirking to myself. A laugh escapes his lips, and for a moment I'm fooled to thinking it was angels playing the harp, something about his amusement is so comforting.
"You got me there, little miss." He nods in approval, my inner goddess praising my work. A silence blankets the space between us, leaving the two of us to our own thoughts. I inhaling deeply, the air flicking at my burning lungs. "What's your reason?"
I look up from the old chewed piece of gum that had been stuck to the table beneath this stranger's body, I assume it was his. I smile, chuckling to myself quietly.
"My reason isn't as dramatic as yours," I state with a shrug, "it's almost cliché."
I watch the way his bicep flexes beneath the grey sleeve of his tee as he releases his grasp from the end of the bench beneath him, sliding his broad body from the metal and standing; revealing his height. He was truly a god, something depicted in the bed stories ancient Greeks told their children.
"It's still a reason nonetheless."
"My mother also told me not too," I whisper, "my mother told me not to do a lot of things."
"Are you some lost character?" He questions, amusement lacing his voice. I knit my eyebrows together in confusion, he notes this and continue to explains further. "Good girl gone bad, rebel without a cause."
The image of James Dean fitted with a leather jackets comes to mind, his transformation of a good religious son to a bad boy, a rebel without a cause, was something I've always thought as cliché; a way to make the girls swoon over the idea of meeting a bad boy and being able to identify their once good self. I crinkle my nose in disgust, nothing confuses me more than the girl's need to change their man.
"What are you thinkin', miss?"
His tall statue returns to the seat, his lips firmly clasping onto the end of the cigarette. I notice that it's almost completely burnt out, his source of reassuring dying between his lips. The amount of time I have with this fascinating stranger is nearing to an end, a heavy feeling drops my stomach.
"You're going to leave me shortly," I state without a second thought. As the words leave my mouth desperately, I prey he doesn't hear the needy tone in my voice. It's been months since I've been able to feel so comfortable around another human; let alone a male.
"What makes you think that?" His tone is cautious, aware he's stepping on some rough ground. I advert my eyes, looking for something else to focus on rather than the structure of his face.
"Your cigarette is out," I sigh, "finished."
"Oh?" He questions himself, I can hear the amusement in his voice as he continues, "so it appears."
I look up, his hands flicking away the used smoke before he stands. Words are tangled within my mind, my tongue struggling to find its ability to speak. I watch as he nears closer, his tall figure towering over my fragile status.
"Until next time?" He inquires, passing a rolled piece of paper in my hand as he bends down to plant a soft kiss against the bare skin of my cheek. Speechless, I freeze. His delightful chuckle echoes off his chest once more, his pink lips out stretching into a smile before he walks away.
I look down at the paper in my hands, curious to what it may be. I unravel the scrunched mess, eager to quench my thirst for knowledge.
It's his number.
