Incandescence

Cigarettes After s*x

"There's nothing like cigarettes after s*x," he said, drawing some of it deeper before letting it out into ash-grey puff. Sitting in the balcony of his apartment on a moonlit night, his profile looked so handsome, so serene.

"I wish my mom never finds out that I smoke. She'll freak out so bad," he said casually, a mild smile on his face, giving away his dimpled cheek.

"Why do you then?" I asked, hugging my own shoulders through the soft fabric of his shirt, something I've picked up on my way out. I could feel the soft, cold breeze blowing past me.

"Interestingly enough," he said before he put it off, and tossed it into the glass ashtray beside him. His gaze averted only to meet mine. A familiar feeling yet it always manages to leave me flustered.

"Who would know it better than you, princess?" He asked me, pulling me onto his lap. I could smell tobacco in his breath and though I wasn't a big fan of it, I didn't mind when it's him. Funny, isn't it?

"You know I'm no good for you," he said, tucking my hair behind my ear, his fingers softly brushing against my skin as I let him play with my hair. I could feel my whole body light up with sparks as his fingers brushed against my skin.

It's not the first time he has touched me and yet I'm left in anticipation every time, as I can never get used to him, to his touch, to these feelings he wakes up inside me.

"Yet," he added in a soft, deep voice, "you end up here with me, over and over again."

"Are you complaining?" I challenged, raising my gaze to meet his. "Just warning you," he corrected, not taking his eyes off mine. "You might wanna reconsider our little rendezvous," he said, his trailing lines down my forearm. "Why? Are you concerned you would fall for me if we continue?" I asked, drawing circles on his chest.

"That, on the contrary," he answered, as he held my hand, interlaced his fingers with mine, "would be least of my concerns".

"Then we have nothing to worry about," I answered before pressing my lips to his.

I let them wander there, before I slowly, teasingly, deepened the kiss. His hands slowly pulling my face closer to his, his lips sucking on mine. It felt cold and warm at the same time, like some spell he does on me every time his lips touch mine.

I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends, drawing him in.

He was so new to me, yet so insanely familiar. Like a part of me had always known him for a long time.

I gave him just one last taste before I pulled back. "I gotta go," I told him, checking my clock. Half-past midnight, it showed.

I looked at his face for some change of emotion, like somewhere deep down I was hoping to see a bit of despair, sense a bit of longing. But like every time, he didn't show a sign.

It is still early, but I wish he had been a little easier to read.

"Okay," he said, letting go of me.

"I'll see you next weekend?" I asked, taking off the shirt I had borrowed from him, revealing the white A-line dress I had worn tonight. Gently, I kept it on the chair. I won't need it in the car.

"Sure," he said, lighting another cigarette. I could see his features lighting up for a second before all of it was gone in white smoke. I tore my gaze away from him and picked up my bag, looked in it for my car keys.

"Catherine," I heard his voice, barely a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Drive safely," he said with a smile, and like that, I felt being melted in his warmth again.

Why do we end up with things we know are no good for us? Of course, who can understand it better than me?