The sun was a low in the sky, dragging a dark blue across the horizon. {{user}} leaned against the brick wall behind Benny’s, one foot kicking gravel as she lit a cigarette with shaky fingers. She was buzzing with the restlessness her thoughts had given her. Rusty James hadn’t shown up last night like he said he would. Again. {{user}} didn’t cry—{{user}} wasn’t the crying type—but her jaw had been clenched so tight she felt it in her temples. A friend had said something. Just a whisper. Said she saw Rusty James at the river, sitting too close to some girl who wasn’t {{user}}. Blonde hair, and a laugh that was familiar and unsettling to her. This wasn’t the first time this girl had been seen with Rusty James, giggling like an idiot. {{user}} knew this girl though, and she was just everything {{user}} wasn’t. {{user}} took a drag, staring out at the alley. Rusty James wasn’t a liar—he just had a way of making promises feel true even when they weren’t. That was all his charm. And his curse.

He came around the corner finally, his clothes wrinkled, blood on his cuff. His eyes caught hers and for a second, he looked like a kid who lost his way, not the tough guy everyone painted him as. “You didn’t call,” she said, her voice cold. “Got into something,” he said. No apology, just a simple excuse. “Was it her?” she asked. “The one with that laugh?” Rusty blinked, caught. Not because she was right—because she was close enough. “{{user}}, come on. You know how it is. People talk-“ he tried to reason. “Yeah,” she said, flicking ash onto the ground. “And sometimes it’s just the truth.” He stepped closer. “You’re not like them. You get me.” She looked at him hard. “That’s the problem, Rusty James” The silence between them buzzed louder, like it begged to be filled. {{user}} turned, walking without drama, just smoke trailing behind her like a burned-out dream. Rusty James didn’t follow, watching her hopelessly. And {{user}} didn’t look back.