The Ballerina & The Devil

Eighteen. Her Sanity and His Uncertainties

Before I realized what I was doing, my legs had carried me over to the rack, and I was leaning against the heated, gray metal.

"Hey," Aidan said after looking up and glancing over at me.

"Hi," I said shortly. I didn't say anything else and stared out at the packed parking lot.

We sat together in silence for quite a while. The smoke from Aidan's cigarette wafting around us. The smell wasn't as bothersome to me with such pressing issues racing around my mind.

"Why aren't you at lunch?" Aidan asked, ruining the peaceful quiet.

I cracked a humorous smile at that and shook my head, looking over at me. "I'm not hungry," I said. "You?"

"I needed a smoke."

I nodded.

"Are you going to lecture me on the consequences of smoking?" Aidan asked, almost humorously. He seemed to be attempting to get me to say more than a few syllables.

"No," I said. "It's your life, your decisions. You should do whatever you need to do in order to make yourself happy."

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, giving me an assessing look.

"Nothing's wrong with me."

"Something is wrong with you," he disagreed.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, running my hand over the metal, avoiding his usual penetrating gaze.

"One, you're quiet," he said. "You're being really quiet now, and you were really quiet in Lit."

"So?"

"You're never quiet."

"I am too quiet," I huffed. "Sometimes. When I'm having a bad day."

"Are you having a bad day, Cupcake?"

I smiled and looked at him.

"What?" He asked, smiling back.

"That's cute," I noted, ignoring the fact that my heart had picked up speed at his gorgeous smile. "You calling me 'Cupcake'."

"Well, Demi," Aidan said, taking a drag from his cigarette and letting them smoke seep from his mouth. "If anyone can be described as a cupcake, it's you."

"Thanks!" I said, grinning. I frowned a little in the next second. "That's a compliment, right?"

"Are cupcakes the most delectable food product in the world?" He asked, looking at me expectantly.

"Yes."

"Then yes," he shifted on the rack. "Plus, I still remember the gesture you made with the container of average cupcakes."

"Very funny," I said, making a face.

"Do you want to tell me what's gotten you in such a bad mood now?"

"It's nothing," I shrugged. "Just stuff."

"You want to talk about it?"