I climbed to my feet, reaching down to grasp his hand in my own. I helped him up and guided him to my bed. I gently pushed him down as he offered me a curious look, dull eyes staring into my own as I moved around the bed. I reached into the first drawer of my nightstand, pulling out a small box of Marlboro's I'd stolen from Oliver, and a lighter. I popped a cigarette into my mouth as I slumped onto the bed, and then offered one to Tate.
He merely shook his head, watching me shrug and light my own. I tossed the pack onto the bed and sunk back into my pillows as I lit the cigarette. I grabbed the TV and Xbox360 remote and turned them both on as I took a long drag.
While they loaded, I slanted a look over at Tate, wondering how we'd ended up here - like....this.
"Sorry." I breathed, a calm settling over me as the foul, but familiar, scent of smoke settled over us.
Tate's body was stiff and foreign in my room, but I felt his presence would become more familiar soon enough.
"For what?" He asked quietly as I flicked through the apps on the screen and turned on Netflix.
I took another drag and held the smoke in my lungs until it burned in my throat. I nearly coughed as I answered, "For stuffing you in my closet."
I was remorseful, even though my tone was emotionless.
He looked at me with his lips parted like he wanted to answer, and then he merely turned away.
A variety of shows lit up the screen of the TV in front of us.
I turned to look at him as he raised a brow. I noticed that his hands had the slightest quiver, still.
He finally looked at me, and I met his eyes before focusing on the screen again.
American Horror Story: Murder House, was now playing.
YOU ARE READING
Tate
Teen Fiction"Tate Moore is fucking psychotic." He stared at me blankly, like he hadn't just insulted himself. He snapped his gum, as my mouth hung open. Then something completely unexpected happened. He plucked the gum from his mouth and stuck it on my nos...
