As I inhale more of this toxic cigarette I slouch down the wall, my hair was messy due to the wind. I hated my hair, it was ugly and red and then again I hate everything about me, that's why I take drugs, it helps, sometimes.
I let my tongue play with my lip ring as I watch my ciggarette burn out crushing it onto the floor.
"Chelsea?"
"Hmm," I had my eyes closed
"Why are you out here?"
"I needed to smoke, got a problem?" I bit back
"I... uh... No,"
"Good," I open my eyes to see Luke standing there, "Oh, hey Luke."
"Hi,"
"What'd you want, Punk?"
"You," he says with confidence, "No wait, not like that, I mean uh-"
"Shut up." I say and tap the ground next to me, "sit."
"I uh, okay..."
He sits down, landing ungracfully on his ass throwing his bag off his broad sholders,
"Listen, Hemmings."
"okay,"
"I don't like you, we can't even be friends, fuck, I don't want to be your friend."
I didn't mean to sound harsh, but Luke was to innocent to be hanging around with me, his face looked sad, but it was ture, I didn't want people seeing us hang out.
"Oh, Okay, it's cool I get it," he sighed, "Bye Chelsea." he got up and walked off.
Sorry Hemmings, I just don't want to influence you.
