His apartment was a burnt orange, which was convenient since that was her favorite color. To her it was another piece of evidence that this was meant to be. His drum set sat in the left hand corner next to the door. The air smelled stale with a slight hint of the weed he loved so much.
She reached into her pocket to grab her phone. She put it on silent before arriving so she wouldn’t have to hear the angry buzzing of the incoming text messages she came to loathe so deeply. Luckily for her, though, there was no reception at his place and only one message to remind her why she was self-destructing- “Bitch.” Delete. Ah, the freedom. She threw the phone in her purse, which sat clumsily on his small round kitchen table.
His couch was rolled out into a bed with lumped up blankets, a glimpse of what the very near future had in store for them. He was sitting on the edge, staring at his TV with an intense look as his fingers danced across the buttons of his game controller. With a small string of curse words under his breath, he turned off his Xbox with his right hand and turned on the stereo with his left. Turning to her, he gave her that sexy, rugged smile that made her broken heart float.
He walked over, grabbed her, and pulled her close. He was so warm and she could feel every muscle in his body as she wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes. His back was so strong for how small and thin he was. His size wasn’t something she was used to, but somehow it was perfect for her. She loved that she could wrap her arms around him so completely. Hell, she loved that she could wrap her whole body around him when he humped her brains out. Most importantly, though, she loved what his embrace conveyed. He was sturdy, reliable, and kind—everything she wasn’t used to, but everything she wanted. Knowing that she had him made her smile.
“Smoke?” It was the first word he said to her since she stepped foot in his apartment. He held the door open for her as they went outside. She reached in her back pocket and pulled out the Salems she just bought on her way there. She got one out. “Light?” Nodding, she put the cigarette on her lip. He held up the lighter and she inhaled. So free. Exhale. Or was she? She wasn’t a smoker. This wasn’t her. “No,” she thought. “This is me. This is the new, free, single me. I’ll never go back.” Content with her lie, she breathed in the mint-infused smoke. So smooth, so cool. Just like him.
“Paul’s coming over. He just texted.” She nodded as she looked over the banister of the deck. “Sounds good.” She shook off the ashes and smiled at him. “I guess that means we should probably fool around before he gets here.” She took a small breath as she leaned in. She kissed him. The sinful mixture of weed and cigarette was oddly comforting. She noticed his nose was cold from the winter air. She looked in his eyes and bit her lip as she looked away. He was her haven, her safe place from all of the furious encounters and hurtful words. She put out the cigarette and left it on the pile on the banister. Grabbing his hand, they went inside.
They started kissing. Her head was racing. She was free. No angry messages. Luke didn’t even know where she was or who she was with or what she was doing. She’d get a flood of heart-wrenching messages once she got reception, though. Panic swept her. “No. I can’t think about that. Tonight I’m free. New life. I can just let go,” she thought. As another wave of denial set in like morphine for her heart, she felt herself get back in the moment. She felt the warmth of his lips against hers. She was able to ignore what all of the signs were telling her—she wasn’t free. She was trapped in a self-induced cycle of heartache.
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