He passed the small blue pipe to her, and she took it, making sure to brush her fingers against his in a lingering touch. She wanted his eyes on her, focused on the way her lips closed lightly around the base, how the fire from the lighter danced in her eyes, adding even more heat as she stared deep into his own.
But she was never one to inhale, choosing instead to have the smoke swirl around in her mouth, waiting to exhale the breath that would never cloud in front of her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the high, but rather a different one, a high that lasted longer and wouldn’t damage her voice. After all, it was one of the the features that drew him to her.
For her, the illusion was enough. It opened him up, put him at ease if he thought they were on the same level; it made it easier for her to get what she wanted. but she knew if he found out, whatever was between them would dry up faster than her liquor cabinet on a Friday night.
The thrill of the chase was everything to her. she knew that going after him, to get him in her bed would burn bridges, but what she wanted, she got. It was only a matter of time.
But there were those watching, waiting for her to get what was coming her way. They saw her for what she was–darkness wrapped in candlelight and heady smoke. An illusion, and nothing more. They would tell him about her, how she’d flip her entire persona as soon as she was done with him, draining him of everything that made him unique, wanted in the eyes of others.
He wouldn’t listen, not when she gave him everything he didn’t even know he wanted. And she took everything he gave with a hunger that belied an underlying need. She tells herself it’s because he wants her, needs her, loves her. Not that he bends over to her manipulation and games.
Everyone loved her, everyone wanted her, and she’d believe that until the day that knife in her back edged its way through her stone of a heart.
And tonight, as they pass the pipe between themselves, surrounded by a lingering haze, they ignore the others around them who look at her in hate, in envy, in pity. They have given up.
She crosses her legs, the loose skirt she wears slides further up her thighs, giving him a taste of what he could have. And she watches his eyes slowly take in the sight in front of him, a smirk playing on her maddeningly enticing lips. She knows just how to tease, how much skin to show to make it seem innocent. She doesn’t think about the consequences, what will happen when the sun comes up and she walks out of his life.
She doesn’t take the time to care that she will crush this man who never shows his emotions, who hides his true self away for fear of getting hurt. She’ll trample him all the same.
But what she doesn’t realize is his friends will help him fi the pieces of his soul together once again. She doesn’t think about how his happiness without her will make her resent the fact that she still can’t find happiness.
This story was inspired by the song Stupid Girl by Garbage.