cigarettes after sex ; m.g.g

3.

corine went home that night hoping to see matthew again, as cliche as it sounded.

she could still see the sharp jaw covered in brown stubble and the way it moved as words slipped past his subtly pink lips.

the way he squinted when he focused on a topic, and the sound of his adorable laugh the way he threw his head back slightly, curls bouncing around his neck as he shook.

she hoped he would text her soon, and doubted if she would be able to sleep that night.

matthew was wondering the same thing about himself. coming home to his empty house was a dread. his friends living miles away and no one to call his.

the ringing of her smooth voice filled his head, images of her frail body rumbling with amusement. he loved that she was so easily entertained.

her seemingly hard shell had cracked so easily in front of him. that felt like a win to him.

he shed of his old tee shirt (that he had, had since he was 9) and dark jeans.

climbing into bed he lit up a cigarette. and knew from now on every time he passed a cigarette through his lips, corine would be the first one on his mind.

he closed his eyes, and let the toxins cloud his lungs. his bad habit had brought him a girl, a beautiful one at that.