Spades

t h i r t e e n : icy blueberry

| THIRTEEN |
ICY BLUEBERRY

He slowed his jog to a hesitant walk as he approached who he really thought was Eira on the bench. That close, he could see that it really was her, and she really was smoking.

He didn't mean to sound like the hypocritical, entitled pricks that were the majority (or entirety) of the male population, but he didn't like girls who smoked often. He didn't know how to feel about associating something negative with Eira.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, honestly a little confused, unsure and hesitant.

He hadn't seen her since last week, and if he was being honest, he expected they would meet somewhere else. A poorly named somewhere else with coffees and an almond muffin, a glazed doughnut, and coy, longing looks between them.

Eira blinked up at him, her eyes more unreadable than they'd ever been. Eventually, the mist cleared and he saw the reddened hazel orbs showed surprise.

"I could ask you the same, Isaiah Matthews." She smiled, but it wasn't reaching her eyes. She stubbed her cigarette out on the bench and swung her legs off it.

"Do you like wandering neighbourhoods that aren't yours at night?" A breeze flew over them. In the distance, a dog barked. "I thought you swore up and down that you weren't an axe murderer. Or a stalker?" She teased him, propping her pretty head on top of her knuckles.

"I thought you weren't a smoker." Isaiah said to her as he plopped on the bench. "Well, you didn't say, but you didn't seem like one."

"Things aren't always what they seem, Isaiah Matthews." She said in her cryptic way. Isaiah almost rolled his eyes—he felt like he was in a teen drama. "I don't smoke. I thought I'd try something new. I hate it, if you want to know how I feel after trying it. I'm literally inhaling smoke into my lungs. Seems a bit counterproductive." She mused. "I thought you didn't smoke unless it dropped below seven. It's 10."

"I make exceptions sometimes." He muttered. " Isaiah didn't remember telling her that. He didn't remember telling her that at all. "Did you see me?"

"Just you, for a while. Karim, when he brought beers. You talked for a bit. And then The Beautiful Madison Von Barring came outside, spoke to you and Karim, he got up and left. She stayed. You came over. She left."

Isaiah absorbed her recollection of events. She'd seen him, most likely without seeing him. She'd seen someone, didn't know it was him, probably. And now she was connecting the dots.

"How did you–"

"I didn't know it was you. For a while, anyway." She elaborated. "Until the lights came on."

Nobody said anything for a while after that. In that silence, Isaiah managed to hear, faintly, the rustling of trees and flora and the wind whispering in his ears.

Isaiah took a deep a breath and glanced at the starless, moonlit sky. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Isaiah narrowed his eyes. Eira smiled, and relented. "Go for it,"

"What are you doing here?"