She exhales sharply, her breath coming out in a puff of condensation in the frigid night air.
“Leave.” Her low voice draws the word out, so it hangs in the space between them.
“What?” He pauses in lighting yet another cigarette.
“That’s another one of those innocent words that sound ominous said out loud,” she explains, looking in the other direction.
“Right, exactly.” His words are muffled by the filter stuck between cracked lips. Tattooed hands cup a much abused plastic lighter. Her skin nearly glows, a pristine white in comparison to his. A testament to nothing, as she often says whenever he runs his hands down her body. Not everyone can wear their heart on their sleeve is his usual reply.
“What are we doing out here?” She stared out at the cars flying passed below them. He shrugs, making the buckles of his jacket clank against the concrete divider they’re sitting on.
“You’ve just been seeming… off lately. I thought you could use a quiet night.”
“Yeah, distant. Lonely, even.”
“It’s fucking freezing out.” She huddles deeper into her coat, envious of his more wind-proof bomber jacket.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He inches closer to her, only to have her lean further away.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He doesn’t respond, just watches her while he takes a long drag. His peculiar blue eyes bore holes into, but she’s still not looking at him.
“What?” Her gaze snaps to him, something still distant in the ways her eyes don’t focus on his face.
“I’m worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Convince me.” He takes another drag before stubbing out the cigarette next to him.
“God, Brody, we’re not doing this.” She turns and drops her feet over the edge of the divider, letting the rest of her body follow.
“Where are you going?” He reaches to grab her arm, but she’s already out of reach.
“It’s fucking freezing and I can’t feel my ass,” she says over her shoulder as she walks away.