“Wanna try it?” I offer, holding out the cigarette to you while exhaling smoke away from you.

We’re currently sat on the wooden porch steps in the backyard of some house party, having come outside to get some fresh air. I wanted a smoke and you clearly wanted to escape the crowd of drunk university students, even if you wouldn’t verbally admit it.

I can’t really tell what you want this to be between us. You’re a total goodie two shoes, never drank or smoke before you met me, zero tattoos, zero piercings, the list goes on. You’re sweeter than literal candy. It’s obvious I’m a phase for you and. Or maybe you just want to seem more grown up to people.

But I also can’t tell what I want this to be between us, so I guess it’s fine for now. You’re a pretty face and fuel my ego sometimes. Good enough.

“You can say no, y’know,” I remind you, watching as you eye the cigarette hesitantly. Some part of me feels like I’m corrupting your or some shit, and I don’t know if I like that.

Lots of mixed feelings, here. Obviously.