You might just be my new favorite person.
Behind me, IfeelAndrew's tension wrapping hot around my skin. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s not looking at us.
“I swear—somebody’s beggin’ for a fuckin’ injury,” he says to no one, tossing the threat into the room—a cigarette into the street.
Meanwhile, we’re leaving, backs turned,
smirking at each other like the devils we are.
When we reach the side door, Mikey shoves it open with both hands, the cold wind slapping us in the face as we slip outside.
We pass a bouncer and round a pile of trash.
Mikey props a shoulder to the brick,
lighter flicking.
Then a cloud of smoke pools between us.
He offers it out. I shake my head.
"Did my fair share of mistakes tonight," I say.
He huffs a laugh, drags slow.
“Yeah, well—Harding’s runnin’ neck and neck with you.” Ash floats to the ground. “There’s shit between you two.”
"Define 'shit.'"
"Feelings," he says around the cigarette, grinning. Then he snatches it from his mouth and points it at me. "Like two strings bitchin' at each other, still tryna figure out what they wanna be."
I shove him in the shoulder,
a laugh scooped out of me?—
"You're a smart-ass."
He shrugs, shoving his hand into his pocket,
shoulder bracing against the cold.
"Ay—your logic, not mine."
The wind whistles through the alley.
I breathe out?—
Then the truth slips with it,
unexpected and honest.
"Don't know what I'm doing, if I'm being real. But if this is who he is—using girls to make me jealous when all it's doing is hurting me? Hard to come back from that." I pause, try on a hollow smile. "That wasn't part of the game."
Mikey studies me for a long second. Then?—
"In his defense—I don't think he knows what he's doin' either." He flicks the cherry, and embers scattering. "C'mon. It's cold as fuck out here."
// 10:53 PM //
