Page 54 of When Fate Breaks
“Yeah?” I mumble as best as I can with the cigarette still between my lips.
The corner of his mouth pulls up, the dimple appearing for the second time tonight. But this time it’s just for me. I think I love that dimple. I know I never want to share that dimple again.
“Can you suck for me?”
“What?” I sputter, nearly biting the end of the cigarette clean off.
“The cigarette,” he nods, chuckling. “You need to inhale for it to light.”
Oh.
I do as Blake says, inhaling deeply from the filtered end. I hold the smoke in for a moment, not quite feeling anything. I start to wonder if I did something wrong when, approximately one second later, the inside of my chest suddenly pinches, my lungs feeling like they’re on fire. I cough violently, one hand on my chest and the other waving away the cloud of smoke coming out of me with each heave.
“Are you okay?” Blake sits up, hitting my back in an attempt to help.
“Yeah, yeah,” I reply through strangled coughs. “I think I sucked it too hard.”
Blake makes a snorting sound. “That’s what she said.”
“Shut up,” I roll my eyes, swatting at him. After my choking fit subsides, I look over at Blake. “This sucks,” I say, holding up the cigarette.
“It really does,” Blake agrees.
“Why does anybody do this?”
“I have no idea,” he says, both of us bursting out into laughter. “But we crossed it off the list.”
“And on top of that, you won $10,” I say, holding up his scratch-off ticket.
“Like the cigarettes never even happened,” he smiles.
* * *
Twenty minutes later,after making a pit stop at an eighteen-and-up bar and sneaking past the non-existent bouncer (because it’s a Tuesday night and we’re in Lake Placid) just to get two Dr. Peppers to-go (which garnered an extremely confused look from the middle aged man tending the bar that obviously didn’t care enough to ask), Blake brings the truck to a stop in front of a building that’s even shadier looking than the gas station we stopped at first. Other than neon lights in the shape of skulls in the windows, there is absolutely no other signage.
“Um, Blake?”
“Hmm?” Blake hums, already out of the truck.
“Where the hell are we?”
“The location of our third illegal-under-the-age-of-eighteen activity,” he grins.
“I’m pretty sure kidnap and murder are illegal at all ages,” I say, glancing back at the dark building and then examining our surroundings, realizing we’re on a one lane street pretty much in the middle of nowhere.
“Oh, the drama,” Blake rolls his eyes. “Come on, it’s fine”
“Blake, I don’t know–”
“Evangeline. It’s fine. I promise.”
I have no idea why I trust him, but my legs are suddenly moving and I’m in the parking lot walking behind Blake towards the unmarked building’s door. When Blake pushes the door open, light floods out of the small space, and I realize the windows must have some sort of tint on them to make it look dark from the outside. Artwork hangs all over the walls and the smell of cleaning supplies fills the air. I faintly register a buzzing sound before I notice a man sitting in a chair in the back corner of the room, another man sitting beside him and tattooing his arm–
Wait, what?
“Blake–”
“Di Fazio!”
