Banging and Bliss
I find myself waiting at the plaza for Chris, my hair up in a messy bun, tied up in a bandana, trying to distract myself. I light a cigarette, placing it between my red lips and inhaling the smoke. My headphones are blaring in my ears, and I mutter along with the song, closing my eyes and relishing in the feelings of control that pulsate through my lungs before I exhale the cloud of smoke and grin. I continue smoking, leaning my head back and losing myself in the music, and suddenly there he is, my current infatuation, making my heart jump and that warm area between my legs get hotter. “What’s cookin’?” he says, poking me in the side. I grin and shrug, taking out my headphones and putting the iPod in my backpack. …