playing with the air // m.h.

smoking by eleven

            

            

**hi guys, sorry it took so long to update--I've been working on videos for my channel thingy and moving into a new apartment. plus i just started a new story (its not fan fiction but i'm looking for a more indie romantic vibe) so i figured i'd just make a posting schedule. it'll be at the bottom of this chapter if you're interested!**

m a t t  y // p o v

            I found myself pacing about the living room, Ross and Adam flipping through their phones with the TV on in the background. What if she doesn't text? What if she doesn't want to go? What if she loses my number, I did just write it on a napkin. Maybe I should just go back to the café and wait until she's off.

            "You'll get wrinkles."

            "What?" I look over to where the voice had come from, a nonchalant George who had just slightly looked up from the book he was barely reading.

            "If you keep scrunching your forehead mate." He closes the book and sets it against his crossed legs, making a point to look directly at me.

            "Also we're going to get a complaint from the hotel if you keep stomping about," Ross pipes in, looking up from his device as well.

            "I'm not pacing," I furrow my brow, attempting to defend myself.

            "I'm hopping in the shower," George rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the chair his was lounged in and wanders into our room, "Let me know if she texts saying she's coming."

            It's at this point that if feel my front pocket vibrate, causing me to jump slightly, having been too immersed in my own mind.

unknown:

when and where?

I know I'm probably grinning like a loon, but I can't help it. I turn my back towards the boys as my fingers move frantically across the screen.

matty:

all the cool kids show up around ten and I can send a car for you and blondie.

destry:

It's fine, Ash wants to drive. I'll see you there!

            I sigh heavily, feeling a lot less tense now.

            "I think George may fancy her." I feel myself immediately tense up again at Ross's comment.

            "Don't be silly, he doesn't even know her." And you do? The inner voice in my head nags. I had to do something to get my mind off of it all, trudging my way to the bedroom where I begin to pick out my attire. Nothing unusual, black on black, and definitely something that said 'I don't care'. Causality was going to be my best friend tonight.

            "Did she text yet?" A dripping George stumbled from the bathroom, steam rolling out after him.

            "Yeah, they'll be there at ten, why?" I gave him a quizzical look as I finish yanking up the zipper to my skin-tight jeans. His only answer was through a very lazy shrug as he dropped the towel that was already hanging quite low on his hips, causing me to look away quickly—he was my best mate but I have seen his willy a few too many times.  Pulling on the rest of my clothing I take this moment as a chance to go on the balcony and smoke a cigarette, already over-processing interactions that haven't even occurred yet.