Nonconformity

Chapter 1

"Hey, Aaron!", I call as I run down the stairs of the library.

I finished my last class an hour prior, but his finishes at four, so every day I wait for him outside of the library. Usually, he just walks me back to my dorm before he goes home, but today I have a different idea.

My boots make a heavy clunk as I sprint down the concrete of the sidewalk. Aaron turns around just in time to catch me before I trip over the curb. My nose pushes against the soft leather of his jacket as he wraps his protective arms around my back.

"You're lucky I was here to catch you", he teases, standing me upright.

I adjust the bag that hangs off of my shoulder and smooth out my hair. He tucks a stray strand behind my ear and gives me a soft smile.

"Where were you going so fast?", he asks.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to get a coffee with me?", I ask hopefully. He looks down at me and I follow his eyes, noticing how they are focused on my lips.

"I have a better idea", he grins. He takes my hand and starts to run down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the passing people while he drags me behind.

"Aaron!", I yelp.

Aaron and I met at a party at the beginning of last semester, and ever since, I have been roped into his crazy and often dangerous ideas.

After we get off the main path, he slows down to a brisk walk but he does not let go of my hand. We walk down an empty alley and we stop at a rusty ladder behind a dumpster.

"What are you planning?", I ask him. He only smiles and motions for me to climb up.

I do, but not before he boosts me up slightly so my foot can get ahold of the bottom rung. When I reach the top, I bush the dusty orange rust from my palms on my ripped jeans.

When Aaron comes up, he walks over to the edge of the building and sits down with his legs over the side. I watch him with confusion for a moment before I go over to join him.

He takes a cigarette and lighter from his pocket and lights it as he holds it between his lips. He takes a long, slow drag before he hands it to me. My heart flutters as I take the rolled tobacco between my fingers. I hold it to my lips and inhale like he did, but I can't hold myself back from coughing.

He knows that I only smoke cigarettes when I am with him, which is part of the reason he offers them to me. I don't like the taste and I hate the anxious feeling it gives me; like I have too much energy but I am too lazy to expel it. I think he just likes to see me squirm.

The smoke flows from my mouth as I cough and he laughs at me. When I recover, I push the cigarette back into his hand, the burning bud grazing the side of his thumb. He hisses dramatically and makes a show of skating the pain in his hand away.

"Why'd you take me up here?", I ask him.

He takes another drag of the cigarette again; putting his lips over the dark lipstick stain I left behind.

"It's a nice view", he says, but he is not looking over the edge. He's looking at me.

"I'll say", I reply with a smile.

"There's a party at the house tonight, and I'd like it if you came. You're welcome to bring friends, but I was hoping we could find some time alone", he says with a smirk.

I scoff playfully, "You're a pig."

"Then what does that make you? A little kitten?"

I slap him on the arm but before I could pull my hand away, he catches my wrist. He laces my fingers with his, and this is a much more intimate hand-holding than when he was dragging me down the sidewalk.

"I hate you."

"Put your claws away, Kitty, it's just me."

"Yeah, and that's the problem", I tease.