The idea of asking Billy for anything, let alone a favor, was laughable. He wasn’t the type to offer guidance or patience. But something about the way he lounged against his car, cigarette in hand had you curious in a way you couldn’t quite ignore.

You didn’t know what possessed you to ask him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to enjoy throwing you off balance, how he thrived on pushing you out of your comfort zone.

So, when you approached him after school, heart hammering in your chest and said something about wanting to try, Billy looked at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Seriously?” he asked, voice dripping with amusement as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Little Miss Perfect wants to smoke? Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You fidgeted under his gaze, unsure if he was going to mock you or just walk away. But instead, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his pack of Marlboros, holding it out toward you.

“Alright, princess,” he drawled, lighting another cigarette and taking a drag. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You hesitated, fingers brushing against his as you took one. He noticed, of course he did, and his smirk widened. “Don’t get all nervous on me now. You asked for this.”

He stepped closer, enough that you could smell the mix of smoke and cologne on him. “First, you gotta light it,” he said, flicking his lighter and holding it out. His blue eyes locked on yours as you leaned in, hand steady despite the flicker of the flame.

“Don’t just suck on it like a straw,” he said, laughing at your awkward grip on the cigarette. “You’re not trying to drink. Inhale but don’t swallow it down. Breathe it in, like—” He took another deliberate drag, blowing the smoke in a way that made it look easy. “Like that.”

You mirrored his movements, clumsy and unsure, the first inhale made you cough instantly. Billy barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. “Oh, man, that’s cute,” he said, shaking his head. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”