A Month To Live

A Month To Live (30)

‘How’re you?’ Tommy asked.

‘What do you want?’ I asked, a frown automatically appearing on my face. I hovered at the bottom of my stairs with a trash bag in hand.

‘I’m just being a friendly neighbour,’ he shrugged , pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a match.

‘Why don’t you get a Zippo or something?’ I asked. 'What kind of old guy uses matches?'

‘Are you encouraging me smoking?’ he smirked.

‘How is that encouraging?’ I asked, shaking my head as I walked over to the trash can and tossed the garbage bag in.

‘I use matches because when they run out, I can’t smoke anymore,' he replied.

‘But that’s the same with a lighter,’ I snorted.

‘I’m also old school,’ he smiled.

I slowly walked back up my stairs, not wanting to respond but also not knowing how to swiftly end the the conversation.

‘Look,’ he said. He jumped down from his own set of stairs and crossed the short distance between our apartments, pulling something out of his pocket. 'I only put a certain amount of matches in,’ he told me, holding out the box. ‘That limits the amount I can have per day. I’m trying to cut down,’ he added.

‘Oh,’ I said. I took it from him and slid it open. 'Hey, it's almost full!' I scowled.

‘I’ve had a stressful week,' he smirked. ‘And you just stopped yourself from asking why,' he added perceptively.

‘No I didn’t,’ I lied immediately narrowing my eyes at him.

'What’s your problem?' he asked. 'Did Bradley have this much trouble winning you over?’

‘No he’s just -  wait. Winning me over? We’re not dating!’

‘Oh, it's a secret love affair, huh?' he asked with a knowing look.

‘There is no secret! We’re not dating!’ I exclaimed.

‘Wait,' he frowned. 'Seriously?'

‘Yeah, seriously,’ I grumbled.

‘But you guys are like this,’ he said, crossing his fingers together.

‘We’re friends.'

‘Oh, I get it,’ he said, flicking some ash off his cigarette before taking another drag just at Bradley himself parked up.

‘Get what?’ I asked.

'You like him,' he smiled.

‘No I don’t,’ I scowled.

‘If you say so,’ he said, smirk broadening.

I turned and waved at Bradley to show I'd seen him and offered the matchbox back to Tommy.

‘Go wild,’ I said.

‘Oh, I’m always wild.'

‘Wait,’ I paused. I poured the matches into my palm, leaving only one left in the box. 'Here.’

‘You just stole my matches!’ he complained.

‘You said you were trying to cut back,’ I pointed out, tossing the box at his chest when he didn't take it from me. 'Gotta go, my ride's here.'

I ran back inside for my backpack and tipped the matches onto the kitchen counter before sprinting back out again. Tommy was gone and the only sign of him having been there, was the still smoking cigarette butt on the path. I stomped it out as I walked by.