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here comes trouble.
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
He smelled like whiskey and tobacco.
Not the stale kind that clings to your clothes after a cigarette, but the kind that lingered on your fingertips after you insisted that rolling your own cigarettes saved you more money. The smell of smoke was not nearly as powerful as the sweetness that invaded my nostrils anytime he brushed past me. I tried to ignore it for a long while, or the way my body seemed to light up like fireworks whenever he was near but it was electrifying — he was electrifying. I had never been more intrigued by someone than I had been with him.
He’d been coming to the bar I worked at for a month or two now, and after three nights of stealing glances whenever I got the chance, I asked his name. Stone Walsh — it rolled off my tongue like I had been saying it for years. I liked the way it sounded coming out of my mouth. He sat in the same seat at the end of the counter closest to the door so he could easily sneak out for a smoke break if he needed one. Ordered the same drink each and every time — a double whiskey on the rocks — that he’d sip slowly, as if he were savoring the burn each time he swallowed.
Part of me had hoped that he was doing it for the sake of killing time so he could be in the same vicinity as me for a little while longer.
I was cleaning up a spill when he touched me for the first time. “‘Scuse me, darling,” he said softly as his hand brushed against my lower back, his large frame squeezing between me and the other patrons sitting at the bar that night. Warmth pooled in my belly, and I tried to deny how good it felt to have his hands on me. But the more I denied it, the more I craved feeling them again. As he slipped out the door, I watched out of the corner of my eye, silently hoping that he didn't leave for good. I wasn't ready to let him go just yet.
Reallistically, I knew that I had to get it together — he didn’t want someone like me.
I was too young for him.
But that hadn't stopped me before.
As I rounded up the empty glasses from around the bar, I set them down into the growing pile of dirty dishes. I would do them later, I’d tell myself. My attention was too clouded at the moment, too intrigued by the man outside. “Hey Kylie,” I called the other bartender working that night. She was a bit older than me, and beautiful in a way that made me a little jealous — her cherry red hair was curled in perfect ringlets, her cheeks colored with a natural blush that made her freckles stand out against her soft white skin. “Would you mind watching my side for a bit? I gotta make a phone call.” I say, pitching my thumb over my shoulder.
“Sure thing, honey.” she replied, a smirk on her lips. We’d been friends long enough for her to know when I was lying. “Tell him I said hi.”
“Will do,” I call over my shoulder with a laugh, pushing the door open. The smell of smoke invaded my nostrils the moment I got outside, and relief washed over my shoulders. He was still here. Stone stood with his back against the wall of the bar, his caramel eyes meeting mine, and I can almost see his lips tug to the faintest of smirks before falling. Butterflies filled my stomach upon the sight, and I felt like an idiot for being so caught up in just the idea of him. “Hey… you got another smoke I can borrow?”
He’s quiet for a moment, but I watch as his arm reaches behind him, a dented pack pulled out from his back pocket. “You gonna return it when you’re done?” He asks, eyebrows quirked. I hated that I thought it was attractive.
Ignoring the slight tremble in my hand, I reached forward, plucking a cigarette free from its home. “Nope, but the next drink is on the house,” I say with a smile as I place it flush between my lips. “You gotta lighter?”
“You want me to smoke it for you, too?” He asks, another smirk tugging his lips upward as he ignites the flame, and I take the invitation to lean in, pulling gently as the end of the cigarette burned, inhaling the smoke into my lungs. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he mumbled as he pulled the lighter away, stuffing it back into his pocket along with the pack.
“Eh, only when I feel like it,” my shoulders shrug.
“You know it’s bad for you, right?”
“Are you seriously lecturing me right now? While smoking a cigarette yourself?”
Stone laughs, and I swear it sounded like heaven opened its gates and I could hear the angels sing.“Yeah, maybe I am,” he pulls on his smoke one last time, and I watch the way he licks his lips before dropping it to the ground, stomping it out with the toes of his boot. “But, as your elder,” his words elicit a laugh of my own, he was only thirteen years older than me. “I’m tellin’ ya, they’re bad for ya and you shouldn’t smoke.”
“I guess now’s a bad time to tell you I don’t like listening to my elders,” I inhale another puff, letting it cloud my lungs for a moment before exhaling it out into the night air around us. Something changed in those few seconds, his eyes growing darker as static filled the air around us. I wasn't sure if only I felt. it, but he couldn't stop staring — at my eyes, at my lips, at my chest. And when his hand reached for the cigarette, only half smoked, I allowed him to pull it from my lips and toss it to the ground, my heart beat thumping against my eardrums as he stomped it out with his boot.
“I guess I’ll have to change that, huh?”
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