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there's a cigarette dangling from my lips and my purse clutched tightly in my hand, my eyes settled on the city below. los angeles looks so pretty at night, especially from this view, in the house i used to be so familiar with, used to spend all my nights in. there's a cloud of smoke leaving the lit end of my cigarette, causing a small swirl that lifts upwards in tufts of grey, floating out into the night and disappearing.
he always hated when i smoked. would get this little frown on his lips, a crease between his eyebrows and he'd just sit there and pout as he watched me, a smirk sometimes on my lips but usually not. i only really smoked when i was stressed--at least after i met david. i'd try to quit for him, i'd told him one night in the heat of the summer, his arms strung around my middle as i lounged in his lap, the hot air capturing the two of us in a little bubble, cicadas humming in the bushes surrounding the lake.
i exhale a breath, watch as the smoke leaves my mouth and floats upwards. my eyes flutter shut and i inhale a clean breath, cigarette balanced between my index and middle finger. there's loud music playing inside, muted a great deal by the glass door and wall of darkened windows separating me from the rest of the house. i'd always liked sitting on the balcony, even when he wasn't there with me. it had the prettiest view of the city, fit all my needs for those lonely nights when he was away filming.
i lift the cigarette to my lips and open my eyes once more. i really shouldn't be here. i wasn't invited--not by david, at least, and i'm sure if he saw me he'd kick me out on my ass. jason had told me about the party, had invited me out to film for one of his vlogs. he'd smiled and told me how nice it was to be around me again, that he'd missed me ever since david and i stopped hanging out. i wondered if david ever told anyone about us, wonder if he'd ever explained why we were so close and then suddenly just weren't. i don't think he did. david's too good of a person. he keeps it all in.
my arms hang over the edge of the balcony, cigarette dangling precariously between my fingers. i consider putting it out, returning to the party. corinna is here, after all, and i haven't seen her in awhile. it'd be nice to talk to her after so long. we used to be so close. i miss that.
i raise the cigarette to my mouth, inhale again. i wonder what david's doing inside. probably filming, he nearly always is. maybe nursing a corona with his camera in hand. he never got drunk at these parties, would always remain sober enough to drive all his friends home, keep the right mind for vlogging. i remember one night, sitting on the couch at home with my cat cuddled up in my lap, hearing my door swing open and loud noise following. i was sure it was an intruder, and so--armed with the only weapon within my reach (a yellow checker-printed throw pillow that'd been propped up on the edge of the couch)--i made my way through my dark apartment, ready and willing to take out whatever intruder was threatening to steal the jar of cat treats in my entryway.
but as i turned the corner, my eyes wide, i came upon a very drunk david, his hair a mess and skin flushed a bright pink, bashful grin on his pink lips. he'd missed me, he'd told me as he wrapped his arms around my body, pulling me into him. he'd smelled like liquor and weed and the scent was almost overpowering, but i'd let him stay all night anyway, laid up right next to me because i couldn't bear to get rid of him, not when my heart felt so full when he was around.
