Craving: A Kylo Ren Tale

Seven

After putting away leftovers and cleaning the kitchen, I spend the rest of the evening polishing off a bottle of red wine while unpacking.

The white room feels luxurious, and it's odd to hang my clothes in the fancy walk-in closet. I still don't feel like I fit here and wonder if I ever will.

There aren't many boxes and bags to unpack, I live a pretty minimalist life. I only keep the things most important to me. My collection of vintage thrift clothes, my hoard of books and poetry journals, photo albums and mementos.

When I'm finished, it's well after midnight but I'm satisfied that I have it all organized into my new space. The wine is long gone, and I'm craving a cigarette so I wander down the dark hallway toward the terrace.

It's magical out here.

It wraps around the northwestern corner of the apartment, and I can see Central Park at one end. The rest looks over skyscrapers of all shapes and sizes, the city glittering with thousands of lights.

There is a grill, table, and chairs. Another sitting area overlooking the park. And most wonderfully, a pool.

I settle into a chair looking north toward Harlem, and put on my thick sweater before lighting a cigarette. The lights and city sounds are overwhelming but somehow also calming.

The smoke mixed with my freezing breath is thick in the air. It smells like it might snow.

When I'm done, I stand from the chair and make my way to the corner with the park view. I'm leaning against the ledge, daydreaming. My mind wanders, thinking about Rose, thinking about recipes, thinking about going out this weekend to get laid, thinking about the paint flecks on his large hands. I get lost in my thoughts.

I almost don't hear his footsteps approaching.

"You smoke?" His voice is husky like he hasn't spoken out loud in hours.

"Yes." I don't bother turning around, I know his eyes are on me and I don't want to shrink away. I was just getting in a good mood again and now here he is to ruin it.

I hear him light his own cigarette and take a long drag. The sound tells me that he's not far behind my body.

Finally I turn, and lean back against the ledge. We're only a few feet apart. The wine is coursing through my veins and I'm feeling bold. There's just something about 2 A.M. that gives one a certain sense of boldness to say the things they wouldn't in the light of day.

"Why are you like this?" I ask bluntly while lighting a second cigarette.

He scoffs, and I swear I almost saw the hint of a smile cross his face.

"Like what?" He asks, with smoke tendrils beautifully framing his face.

I take a few drags, blowing the smoke over my shoulder into the wind. My eyes explore his face. His own dark brooding eyes seem to have a playful look in this moment and it gives me even more courage.

"Well, you're kind of an asshole."

This time he actually does laugh.

"Yeah, yeah that's probably true," he says in that low baritone voice that makes my knees slightly weak. I'm also very aware that this is the first smile of his I've ever seen. But it seems sinister, not jovial.

He takes a step towards me, face serious again. Crushes his dropped cigarette with his boot.

I do my best not to shrink away, not to be his little mouse. There's a devilish look in his eyes and I feel like prey being slowly stalked by a wild predator. He takes another step toward me and now we're only a foot apart.