Chapter 9: Up In Smoke

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"In a perfect world, people like us still wouldn't coexist." Natasha smiled, but it was empty. Her eyes were on the Monopoly board, but she looked lost in thought.

"Is this your way of stopping us from playing the game because you're losing?" I grinned, holding up the pair of dice in my hand. "Because tough luck. I rolled an eight, and I'm about to buy Boardwalk, which gives you a less than 10% chance of winning."

She gave me a look. "I'm serious."

"Okay, fine. Why?" I leaned forward, raising my eyebrows.

"Because we're too different. People love you. If you weren't here one day, your friends would be heartbroken. So would your family. The entire school would experience a complete transformation. People's lives would change. Everyone leaves someday, but no one could ever forget you."

"That's not true. People would remember you, too."

Natasha bit her lip before releasing it. "Remembering someone isn't the same thing as loving them."

--

The sky was dark gray, the air thick with humidity. From the looks of it, we were in for a heavy rainstorm. I walked across the navy green turf, noticing the prom banner was still hanging on the bleachers. And in the rows of blue and gray seats, I saw him.

I had scooped my long black hair into a high ponytail and reapplied my lip gloss. I told myself it was because I wanted to look put-together, not because I cared about what he thought I looked like.

Taylor would kill me if she found out I had texted Griffin to meet. She had told me to stay away, but that was something I couldn't seem to do. Besides, I needed answers, and Griffin was the only one that would have them. After tossing and turning, thinking about his police investigation last night and the list situation, I didn't want to waste any more time.

Griffin's face was half hidden from his navy-blue hood, but he lowered it as I approached, his eyes falling on me. A quick once-over, but it was still one that made my cheeks hot.

He looked like the storm itself, light and dark, the Cupid's bow above his lips arched and eyes swirling with an unrecognizable intense emotion. I sat next to him, feeling his familiar scent of woody cedar cologne engulfing me. He looked freshly shaved, his usual scruff missing and cheeks softer than expected.

He pulled something out of his pocket, and when I saw the stick, I could only assume it was a cigarette.

My heart dropped. I knew you shouldn't judge people for smoking, and I didn't. I just wished he wouldn't. But when he finished pulling the object out, I saw it wasn't a cigarette.

It was a cherry lollipop.

"Want one?" His voice was gravelly, but sweet.

"Ew, no. They taste like medicine." I wrinkled my nose at him. "I might as well just take off-brand Tylenol."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You haven't changed."

I wondered if that was a good thing.

"Hey, at least these don't kill you." His eyes met mine. "I stopped smoking. I decided I was too young to see what it's like up there."

I felt giddy hearing that. "That's good. I mean, for you." I bit the inside of my cheek so that I didn't smile.

"Traded those death sticks for these death sticks." He placed the lollipop in his mouth, casually letting it dangle. He looked like he belonged in Grease, with messy hair and a lazy smile. "Something too sweet in your system can ruin you, too." His voice was husky, and he looked at me when he said it.

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