But then weeks later, I saw smoke emerging from down below, thin gray tendrils of it, and when I went to investigate, I found him smoking.
And I found him again and again.
He doesn’t smoke a lot, maybe once every couple of months or something, but he would always do it under my window in the middle of the night and I’d never tell anyone.
“Well, clearly not everyone. Was asleep, I mean,” he tells me, puffing out another cloud of smoke.
“No. But I kept your secret. I’m the best secret keeper you’ll ever have,” I say proudly.
Oh, he hasnoidea.
Secrets are my jam.
Well, as long as I don’t open my big mouth again like I did back at the library.
“Secret keeper, huh,” he murmurs with a flicker at his lips.
“Yes.”
“Well, then I’m glad.”
“About what?”
“That you were the one who wasn’t sleeping. And you’re the one who found out about my injury. And you’re the one I’m smoking in front of.”
To emphasize, he pops the cigarette back in his mouth and takes a drag, letting it out slowly, all the while looking at me with an arched look.
I narrow my eyes at him. “And why is that?”
“Why is what?”
“Why would you smoke all those times when you promised you wouldn’t?”
“Because I like it.”
“But you don’t break promises.”
“I broke this one.”
“Why?”
He throws me a flat look like I’m annoying him with my questions but I don’t care. I need to know. And when it looks like he won’t answer, I tell him in a curt voice, “Smoking is bad for your health, you know that, don’t you? Especially when you’re an athlete. It affects your lungs, which affects the way you breathe. Which in turn affects the game. And nothing should ever affect the game. Isn’t that your motto? That’s like the first rule you live by. So I don’t know why –”
“You can stop talking now,” he cuts me off and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop my smile.
Which of course he can tell, because his eyes narrow and a muscle jumps in his cheek. I blink up at him all innocently though. “I will if you tell me.”
He sighs before turning away and looking at the river. “I smoke because it helps me relax. It’s called de-stressing.”
“De-stressing from what?” I ask, looking at his profile.
His shoulders tighten. “From a big game. A big test. Whatever.”
“What?”
“The other option is that I get high or drunk. So this is no big deal, all right? It’s a simple cigarette. Takes the edge off a little.”
Is that really why he smokes?
