❧ K. - CIGARETTES AFTER SEX ☙
"but i could tell that something had changed how
you looked at me then"
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I woke up with an unbearable pounding feeling in my head. The familiarity of my bedroom was the only thing that kept me from wondering what happened, because I knew that whatever did, I was safe.
I had no memory of anything that had happened to me, all I knew was that my clothes were still on. The last thing that I remembered about last night was calling Dominic after I had kissed a guy who reminded me of him. I don't know why, but he just did.
I didn't really know why I got so drunk either. I think it was because I couldn't do any of the shit that I did sober. I'd been drunk a whopping three times in my life, and I hated it, so why did I let it happen again? I think I had 4 drinks before I started to feel off, but then I continued to have more, and before I knew it, my tab consisted of 7 drinks— I actually don't think I even paid.
Who cared? It's not like the owner of the club hadn't eaten me out moments before I got there. Fuck, that happened too. I groaned, smashing my face into my hands, embarrassed with myself even though nobody else was around.
I blinked before checking my phone for the time. 11:56AM it read; it was extremely late. I was about to turn off my device before I noticed a message on my home screen that had been sent 45 minutes ago. It was from Dominic.
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I didn't know why he expected me to be mad at him, but I ignored the possibilities after I realized that there was coffee waiting for me in the kitchen. I was grateful for how Dominic had told me exactly what time he'd be back after I got mad at him for leaving me in the dark, it was sweet. Dominic and sweet? I didn't think the same words would ever join in a sentence— but it meant that he listened to me, right?
I got up from bed, pushed open the door and made my way downstairs, suppressing the soreness between my legs.
There on the kitchen counter stood one lonely cup of coffee from the same coffee shop that I took Dominic to a few days ago. I smiled, taking it into my hands. The cup was still warm.
I then took myself back upstairs and into my room, deciding that taking a shower was probably a good idea. Setting the coffee cup down onto my bedside table, I walked over to the bathroom.
I turned the handle of the shower to the slightly colder setting, needing the cold water to wake me the fuck up and get my head back to where it was meant to be. I wanted to think of simple things, but I couldn't. Instead, my mind circled back to the most complicated thing in my life.
Dominic.
What the fuck, was all that I could think of when I thought of his name. I think I whispered those same words about a hundred times a day.
The two of us needed to have a talk.
I didn't understand what was going on between us. It fucked with me that I didn't hate him as much as I pretended to, and it fucked with me that the whole time I was kissing other men last night, I was thinking of anything them.
What the fuck.
I wanted to hate him, I wanted to so bad. He was quite literally the epitome of what I was against; fuck boys, billionaires, and murderers. So why didn't I hate him?
I didn't particularly like him though. He didn't like me either, he just cared about me, there was a difference. No the fuck there wasn't. Who was I kidding? In order for him to care about me he had to like me. Actually, maybe he didn't like me at all. Maybe this was all just in my head. Maybe I was making this so much more complicated than it had to be. Maybe.
I think a part of me really did hate him, strongly, but it wasn't the same hatred that you would think. The other part of me did like him, just not that same like.
I think Dominic liked me back in that same way, not in an 'I like you,' way, but in an 'I wouldn't mind fucking you way again,' you know?
It was all just a strange game of attraction.
After washing my hair and showering off the makeup from my face, I stepped outside of the shower and dried off. Brushing my teeth and putting on a set of white lingerie and a new lounge set, I felt better now, fresher.
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It was 9:30PM when I heard the front door open, followed by heavy and calm footsteps, and I immediately knew it was Dominic, even though he was early.
The time seemed to have soared by while I waited for him to come back to the house. I ended up taking an Advil or two after my headache came back, but that seemed to have been the only sort of symptom of a hangover for me.
I spent most of my time watching TV, listening to music, and pacing back and forth in my room. After a while, I started to panic about what might've happened last night. I knew from experience that I was quite talkative when drunk, and if I was alone with Dominic, I probably would have said some things that I shouldn't have.
I sighed deeply, getting out of bed and heading downstairs to see Dominic. When I reached the bottom, I saw that the sliding door to the balcony of the backyard was opened, Dominic's silhouette shadowing by the railing.
I quietly slipped outside, tugging down on my clothing because the air was cold again. I don't think Dominic even heard me coming. "Hey, asshole." I greeted him.
He looked over his shoulder, a cigarette between his teeth. He pulled it away by his fingers briefly, the smoke fading into the air. I pressed my hips against the railing, palms wrapping around it as I faced forwards, not looking at the man beside me.
The sky was really nice that night. The sun hadn't completely set, so various shades of navy blues and indigo were painted across the atmosphere.
"You still think I'm an asshole?"
"Yes."
"Liar." He grinned, inhaling the object in his hands.
"At least I'm not killing myself with a cigarette." I shot, and he glanced over to my direction, meeting my eye, and glaring.
"Doesn't change the fact that you're a liar," he said. With that, he took the cigarette from in between his lips, and pressed the bud into the railing of the balcony. The faint sound of the burning end sizzling was heard, even through the wind, before Dominic tossed the object to the ground. "Why are you here right now?"
I pressed my lips into a thin line. "I can't want to talk to you anymore?"
"I didn't know you ever did."
I shook my head, starting to second guess myself and to why I even came to talk to him. "Would it be stupid if I said I wanted to get to know you better?" I bit down on my bottom lip, nervously waiting for his answer.
"Why do you want to get to know me?"
I shrugged. "Because I'm starting to trust you, and when I trust someone I would like to know parts of them better."
"What parts of me do you want to get to know?"
Dirty.
"Simple things."
"Like?"
I laughed a little, realizing just how little I even knew about him. "How old are you?"
"You don't know my age?" He pried, I shook my head, slightly embarrassed that I didn't know the simplest thing about a person who had done.. questionable things to me.
I was becoming slightly nervous now, my mind racing as I stood there beside him. It struck me that I had never even considered his age. I had assumed he might be in his early-ish twenties, but people had a way of looking younger or older than they actually were. He could have been like twenty-eight, for all I knew.
His voice broke through my anxious thoughts. "Twenty-four," he answered, and a wave of relief washed over me.
Still, my curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to probe further. "Do you know how old I am?" I questioned, trying to sound casual but unable to hide a hint of intrigue.
His gaze remained fixed on me, and his reply was unnervingly accurate. "Your birthday is July 8th, 2002, and you're twenty years old."
I was baffled to say the slightest. I don't remember ever even mentioning my birthday to him, especially under the circumstance of my new-found hatred for it. "How the hell do you know that?"
Dominic didn't answer me, and the silence was nearly unbearable.
Whatever.
A smile curved on my lips. "You don't think I'm too young for you?" I asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. I tucked my hair that blew in the wind behind my ears and softened my eyes. "Four years is pretty significant to some."
Dominic's jaw clenched, and I couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction at his reaction.
"Anyways, when's your birthday?" I broke the silence, chirpy all of the sudden. I swear, sometimes I had two personalities— maybe even three. But I did not want to lead the conversation that way. Not yet, anyways.
"November twelfth," he said flatly.
Scorpio. Of course.
My brain worked to think of another question for him."What's your middle name?"
"These questions are a little bit too simple, don't you think?"
"Answer it."
His lips curved into a smile, probably because of my seriousness in the simple question. "Giovanni," he said blankly, his accent peaking through his words.
Dominic Giovanni D'Angelo. Fancy.
"How many women have you slept with?" If he wanted a better question, then he got it.
It didn't actually matter to me, but it was the first question that came to mind. I never understood why people cared so much about a person's body count actually, and the double standard for men and women was stupid. A man would sleep with 9 women and he would be praised for it, a woman would sleep with 9 men and she'd be shamed. Bull shit.
Dominic pursed his lips. "I don't sleep with women. It's too personal."
I furrowed my eyebrows. He slept with me. Sure, it's not like we actually did anything, but he still spent the night in my own bed. "So you just do it and then they leave?"
"Yes."
I rolled my eyes, altering the question for him. "How many women have you been with, then?"
"I don't really keep track."
"So it's a lot?"
"It's different."
"How so?" I questioned, sceptical. I was worried he might say something misogynistic.
"In a man, you look for relationships, do you not?" he inquired, his gaze steady and searching.
I nodded. I had only ever been in relationships. Before Nathan, I'd go on a date, if it went well, we'd go on another, then eventually end up sleeping together. Obviously this stopped once Nathan and I became official when we were eighteen, because I'm not a fucking cheater.
Dominic was the only exception, he was the only man that I'd hooked up with before getting to know a little bit.
"I don't look for that in women," he continued, his voice carrying a hint of indifference. "But if I did, the number would be lower."
I couldn't help but probe further, my curiosity piqued. "So you've never been in love?" He paused, his expression unreadable. His ocean blue eyes bore into mine, as if looking at me might change his answer. "I don't believe in love."
"Shocker," I quipped, a touch of sarcasm lacing my response.
"Not surprising?"
"You have one night stands where you don't get to know the woman.. and that's it. How are you supposed to find love in that? So no, not surprising to me."
"Don't act like you haven't had your share of 'one night stands,' Red," he taunted, his voice mimicking my earlier tone.
I felt a tinge of defensiveness creeping in. "Why do you assume that?"
"Because you had one with me."
His response hit me square in the chest. I hadn't expected him to throw my own actions back at me so casually. "Okay— but that was like my first ever," I admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring my cheeks.
He raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing. "I was your first?" He asked, a playful glint in his eyes.
My defenses kicked in, and I snapped back, maybe more defensively than I intended, "I'm the one asking questions." It was as if admitting that he might have been my first 'one night stand' had somehow struck a nerve I didn't know I had. "And you're not special for it. It's not like you took my virginity."
"And it's different. I mean, look at where we ended up. It's not like we never saw each other again." I said, leaning back into the railing of the balcony. I continued to tuck my hair behind my ears as the wind started to blow harder.
I felt Dominic's eyes lingering on my face for a moment too long before he mentioned, "I have the same tattoo as you."
"Sorry?" Catching me by surprise, because one moment we were talking about one night stands and then the next, we were talking about tattoos.
"You said we have nothing in common, but the tattoo behind your ear— I have the same one."
I had a small, dainty bow and arrow tattoo behind my ear, and I was surprised he was even able to notice. Though I doubt we had it for the same reasons; he didn't seem to be the type to listen to Taylor Swift. "When did I even say that?" I questioned.
"When you were drunk."
Oh. "Can I see it— your tattoo?"
Dominic licked his lips, tilted his head so slowly, then teased. "Are you asking me to undress, Red?"
Yes.
Red, hot heat flurried through my face, and my heart was pounding in my chest, thought I wasn't quite sure why. "What? No, if I had known I wouldn't have asked, I-"
"You're so innocent," he murmured, stopping me from spilling whatever defensive words I planned on saying. "Do you really want to see it?"
"Yes," I replied shakily, nearly stuttering. Dumb bitch.
His right hand leisurely slunk around his neck and pinched the neckline of his T-shirt, keeping the stone cold eye contact between us. I found myself biting my lip at his actions, and suddenly the sweater I was wearing seemed a lot thicker than I remembered it to be, because I started to get hot.
Slowly, he turned around, effortlessly pulling the shirt over his head.
Everything was still, and I was staring.
Dominic's body was so defined. The way the muscles of his arms framed his form, the way his shoulder blades pulled together when he moved, the way his waist was shaped; he was as close as you could get to perfect.
"Don't tell me you've gone shy now, Red." Dominic taunted again, tone just above a whisper, looking over his shoulder. I sucked in a breath at his words, stepping closer, and examining the tattoo placed in between is shoulder blades.
It was beautiful, really. It was detailed and precise, and very similar to mine, just more masculine. The string of the arrow was pulled back on his, like mine, and the arrow pointed upwards towards his mind, also like mine, but the ink stopped once it reached the bottom of his neck.
However, he didn't just show me his tattoo, or his body.
Dominic's back was covered in scars.
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words (3000)
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