❂ Left Handed Cigarette ❂ // Van McCann

2.

"What's the time?" I asked hoping to drag out the night abit more.

I guess you could say it was a habit I picked up in highschool. I always felt that if you made the boy talk to you the whole night there was no way he could just forget about you and consider you a random hookup.
That maybe, just maybe he might fall for you even just a little bit. I couldn't handle when people didn't get attached to me and I felt as though being in power became the only thing important in a relationship.
I would never be completely vulnerable with someone because I had experienced being let down far too many times.

"12 past 1 do you want to have a ciggy or something? "

Van asked seemingly afraid I had gotten bored. Exactly what I had wanted.

"Yeah, let's go on the balcony." I said, dragging him by the hand while digging out my cigarette packet from my left pocket.

He followed my up the stairs and I mentally applauded myself for going on the balcony as it was now deserted. The sun was setting and the atmosphere was just right. I couldn't help but smirk slightly at how perfect the moment was, Sacha's bedroom being connected to the balcony and giving me hope of getting a good nights sleep.

Van must have noticed and smiled childishly at me,

"What's that look for?"

I just shrugged and locked the door behind us. Now it was his turn to hide a inevitable smirk.

We both slouched into the two chairs outside with a sight. I guess the alcohol was wearing off and our senses were coming back.

I lit my cigarette with ease and watched him pat down his trousers in hope of a lighter. He looked funny, his face distorted as the dry cig hung from his lips. I laughed.

" Come here." He seemed confused but leaned in.

I pressed my cigarette to his so our noses were almost touching, allowing my fire to light his. A trick I had learnt at sixteen that for some reason always impressed.

He took a drag and leaned back,

" That's quite hot." he said awaiting my reaction before adding,

"Wait you're left handed?" He stared down at my left handed cigarette.

"Yeah always have been." I smiled at his confusion.

"I need to write something about that." He spoke his thoughts as I grinned.

"Write an album about it why dontcha." I joked.

"I might just." He said pensively.

I loved how genuine he sounded it was refreshing. Other guys would always say one thing but mean another.

" Hey Van?" I spoke.

"What love?" He answered looking out at the view.

" You seem dead nice too." I spoke knowing I was putting myself on the line but I was too happy to care.

He turned to me and I turned away to hide my blush.

"You're blushing." He remarked,
"I didn't think you could do that." He said matter of factly.

"I have my moments." I answered regaining composure.

"Let's go in its getting cold." I proposed longing for the warmth of a bed.

He followed me in and sprawled himself on the bed. I took of my jacket of, leaving me in only a navy body suit and my trusty black skinnys. My black leather boots making noise as I approached the record player.

I put on The stone roses vinyl, knowing one of my favorite songs was one it. I smiled contently as I heard the first beats of  "I wanna be adored", bopping my head to the intro as I turned around facing a very shocked boy.

" I love The stone roses." He said, mentally applauding my choice.

"Me too, it's all I would listen to near the end of highschool." I went to sit so I could take my shoes off and join him on the bed.

" Exactly yeah, they really got me into all that psychedelic shit that would drive my parents mad."

He laughed reminiscing. I sat next to him, his hand placing itself around my arm lazily.

" Yeah, my parents never liked my taste in music, especially my dad." I rambled, " Atleast my mom got me into the Killers and Placebo or else I would have shit taste in music right now."

"My parents practicality brought me up on Oasis and The Rolling Stones so I couldn't really complain." He remarked.

A silence fell upon us as I played with the hem of his shirt, my head on his chest, feeling heavy, as "This is the one" came on.

"What did you mean down there, about having dealt with worse." He spoke, revealing what he had at the back of his mind the whole time.

I groaned slightly as as flipped my body  around so my stomach was pressing on his, my head now fully on his chest.

" I don't know, I just never have good luck with relationships I guess. My friends think I'm cursed it's kinda funny. Like in the past year I've dated, a closeted gay guy, a secret baby daddy and a handful of coke dealers." I giggled at my misfortune.

"It's not even that though, it's that none of those relationships were good, cos I never felt like myself, you know?" I ended my rambling, scared I had shared too much.

But I immediately relaxed as I felt his hand stroking my back.

"I know what you mean, I was off dating for a while because every girl I would try and settle down with always ended up cheating. It was like everything would be fine and then they would start hooking up with my mates. I guess yeah like a curse." He laughed.

I nodded in agreement, I was scared shitless to be honest, I didn't usually open up like this. He then stroked my side and I jerked back laughing.

"That tickles!" I said before realizing how lame that sounded. He just erupted into a fit of laughter.

"Oh does it now?" He flipped me over digging his fingers into my sides making me lose all control, begging him to stop.

He stopped after a couple seconds and looked at me as I tried catching my breath,  a giggle escaping my lips.

I stood up slightly resting on my knees before he grabbed me and placed me on his lap, his back resting against the wall. He caressed the side of my petite frame, as I looked at him expectingly.

He traced his finger around my face before placing his thumb and index finger around my chin.
He then leaned in slightly and pecked my lips.
I smiled pulling back, his lips were warm and I longed to feel them against mine again.
I hurriedly straddled him placing kisses on his cheek before moving to his lips, his fingers playing with the start of my jeans as I rested my hands on his broad shoulders.
I wanted to be close to him, so I deepened the kiss and he moved down to my neck as I let out a satisfied sight. I couldn't believe how good something so small felt.
He traced his hand down my cleavage before undoing my jeans, asking,

"How far do you want to go?"

His voice was deep and raspy. I pressed myself against him and told him,

"I'll tell you when to stop."
But I knew I wouldn't because I wanted him, bad.