Why the hell did I think this was a good idea?
My body aches and I feel my feet thumping unevenly on the pavement. For a reason unbeknownst to my less-than-sober self, I decided to visit a local bar this Saturday night. Being a recovering alcoholic, I knew I shouldn't take that short walk from my apartment to Frisky's, aka the gates of hell. But, also being a recovering imbecile, I said "fuck it" and threw on a party dress.
Now I'm stumbling home accompanied by double vision, a migraine, and self loathe. I stink of sweat and vodka, wanting nothing more than to strip out of this constricting dress and into a steamy bath.
Before I turn away from the bar, I stop, realization hitting me square in the drunken face. There's no way I can go home this wasted. My roommate and mother away from home, Kelsey, will throw a tantrum. I won't hear the end of it for weeks, maybe even months.
I sigh heavily, clunking over to the curb in front of Frisky's in my tight leather boots. I plop myself down and pull out my phone, my eyes lazily tracing the messages and not letting them sink in completely.
from: Kelsey at 1:44 am
where are you??
from: Kelsey at 2:06 am
I'm worried, please come home
from: Kelsey at 2:37 am
you better not be dead in the morning or I'm gonna kill you. goodnight
I shut the screen off, slipping my phone to let it rest on the ground. The street lights on either side of the bar flicker, illuminating the asphalt. I lean my back against the side of the building and close my eyes as I wait for my tipsiness to subside.
My eyes open at the sound of ruffling near me. Just thinking about how late and dangerous it is for me to be out here all alone. I glance to my right in the direction of the noise.
A guy is slumped against the greenish brick wall.
With his dirty blonde hair falling in his eyes and a lit cigarette between his teeth, he puffs a light grey cloud in front of his face. In the dim light of the street lamps, I can tell he's quite gorgeous.
I face forward again, curious if he knows I'm there at all.
I've decided he does, I feel the burn of his gaze in my temple. I know he's watching me and I continue to watch the lights on the street, as if I'm oblivious.
After a few moments, a small smirk breaks across my lips.
"You're staring."
I say quietly as I turn my head to meet his eyes. His light blue orbs widen considerably, no doubt surprised at my statement.
"Can you blame me? Just trying to figure out why someone as gorgeous as you is out alone this late."
A chuckle bubbles up in my throat, whispering through my nose and causing him to smirk around the smoke in his teeth.
"Well, I'm just trying to figure out why you feel the need to use prehistoric pick up lines on me."
He throws his head back in a toothy laugh, sticking out his hand for me to shake. I reach behind me, resting my weight on one hand while I shake his with my other.
"I like that, let's skip the lines. I'm Luke."
"Y/n."
"Well, y/n. Do you smoke?"
That question rings in my ears for a few seconds longer than it should. I don't know if it's because I'm still tipsy, or because the way he said it, how it just rolled off his tongue with that sexy accent, but I ponder my answer.
"I've never been one to smoke, or do anything related to drugs. That's mainly due to the fact that my mother always told me that I am the type of person to become addicted to the substances, or anything really. Apparently, I have an 'addictive personality'. And that has always sounded dangerous to me. Especially since my recent past of alcohol sits shamefully on my record."
I pour my thoughts out to him, much to his surprise as well as my own.
I'm an honest drunk.
He shrugs, closing his eyes as he breathes in more of the smoke, expelling it softly against my face. I take a short whiff, and find myself already craving a drag. He swipes over his lips with his pink tongue and leans close to my face, smelling wonderfully of smoke and musky cologne. I breathe him in, much like the smoke, but I find myself enjoying his scent immensely more than the simple product of his hit.
Which scares me a little bit.
"Do you always listen to your mother, y/n?"
I catch myself before closing the gap between us, seemingly coming to my senses and realizing I want to taste his cherry lips more than anything at the moment.
Wow, I'm so foggy I'm making moves on a guy I literally just met. This isn't like me at all.
Wake up, y/n.
"Are you scared of being addicted?"
It's not use. He's too charming and intoxicatingly attractive and I'm too vulnerable.
I simply shake my head, unable to form coherent sentences for a few seconds.
"Then try it. Won't love it 'till you try it."
His teeth poke over his bottom lip ring as he bites it, driving me absolutely insane. My next answer is unfiltered, courtesy of tipsy me.
"I guess one hit won't hurt."
It seems like "fuck it" has become my catch phrase for this particular night.
He quirks his eyebrows at me with a grin and hands me the butt of the cigarette. I place the end between my lips and suck, feeling my lungs stutter as the smoke invades them. A small cough rips through my chest, but I blow the cloud from my mouth into the air and watch it billow against the cool night air.
"Like it?"
"Yeah, it tingles."
I say slowly, twisting the small white object between my fingers and looking up to meet Luke's curious eyes again.
For some reason though, his gaze steals my breath more than the smoke does. I feel entranced by him, wanting to weave my hands through his blonde locks. The corners of his ocean orbs crinkle as he shyly smiles, glancing from my own eyes to my lips and back again. I actually find it almost impossible to breathe all of a sudden.
"How did it feel?"
His gentle tone puts me at easy and I sigh contently. Easing my stare back up to his unwavering one, I know it's not the small cigarette I've begun to crave.
"I'm hooked."
-x-x-x-
a/n: lowkey wrote this as michael first but changed it to Luke bc I need to get my head out of that boy's ass
lol
thanks again babes
~ab
