Part 1:
As soon as the body left my side, and had shut the door behind them, I jolted up from bed. After hours without a drag of something it was killing me inside, so I quickly stood up. I left my shirt and shorts on the floor, as I walked through the apartment, to the balcony door. Yanking it open, I stood out on the terrace. The night air blew slowly. Quickly, the pack of cigarettes was open and one was lit. Slowly, I breathed in with a long drag. The familiar taste hit my tongue as I could feel everything in the world calm down again. Like last night never happened.
I breathed out the smoke, no longer needing to cough. I was newer than most at the game of killing my insides slowly, but I finally didn't need to cough anymore. I could let the smoke out in a form, but not like him.
Him.
He was trying to smoke with me. That was his pickup. Most guys when they come up to me try to impress me by grinding in just the right spot, or asking me for pizza. But this one saw me outside, and asked for a light. Naïve me, just thought he needed one. He seemed to have bigger intentions for me.
I stood out on the balcony, as a warm very early morning wind hit my bare chest and legs. I could tell that these days weren't going to last forever, but I was trying desperately to hold onto them. That night, when we stumbled into my apartment, he insisted on standing out here. He didn't want smoke to go through the building, since he thought I would get caught. Even though I explained to him a hundred times that the landlord knew (but didn't care) he didn't want to believe me. We had stood in this same spot, taking drags of one cigarette between us.
Soon, his fingers were wandering up and down the tattoos. The tribal symbol on my one shoulder. The words along my collarbone, the wing along my arm, and the half-finished sleeve on my right arm. His touch was warm, and electrifying. I craved it so desperately.
"What are these?" He asked, as he ran over one on my arm.
"Wolves." I mumbled, handing him the cigarette. "They're going to be wolves. Not done yet, though."
He nodded, as his fingers continued to trace. "Your body..." He mumbled, as I saw his eyes look over me. He moved behind me and traced more. They went up my arm, onto my shoulder, and my collarbone. Suddenly though, his hand was up around my neck and dragging my lips onto his. There is no other words to describe the rest of the evening than fast and forced. There was barely a delay in which our bodies were tangling outside, and onto my bed. He knew what he was doing and it was perfect. He was more of an expert on my own body than I ever was.
After it was all said and done, I was lying on his chest. My heart was trying to leap from it, and I was trying to move closer to him. Yet, as soon as I rested onto his neck, he turned away.
"What?" I asked.
"This was a one-time thing. This wasn't anything important."
"Right." I answered. "Right. Sorry. I just..."
"Recent breakup?" He turned over and studied my face.
I widened my eyes slightly, but returned to my normal scowl. "Yeah. How did you know?"
"I've done this before. You clearly haven't." That was all he said, before turning over.
Now, as I stood on the balcony with my cigarette in my hand, I stare down at the ground below. I tossed the cigarette over, and went inside.
