Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC

13: The Moon Bred New Life Tonight

The night air is warm, still sort of sticky with the heat and humidity of the day, but still a welcome relief compared to the stuffy hell that is the guest bedroom across the hallway from Venetia's room.

It's become sort of a habit, slipping outside to have a cigarette and enjoy the coolness of the night before I retreat back to bed. It's not something I do every night, but something I do often enough that I've become familiar with the winding stone paths around the house and the way the moonlight casts the grounds in sharp definition. The cigarette is really only an excuse - it's a wish for something extra - whether that be a hushed giggle from Venetia's lips or the twinkle in Farleigh's eye - my semi-nightly endeavors.

The cherry of my cigarette burns red as I take a long drag, the smoke pooling in my lungs for a moment before I force it out my nostrils, the haze hovering around my head until I move on, following the path around the house. I round the corner slowly, and tap the ash off the end of my cigarette, letting it fall to the ground, mixing with the stones.

My gaze wanders up the house, counting the lit windows, noting their placement. Venetia's light is on - but there is no shadow in her room. She's out and about - hopefully I'll run into her before my cigarette burns out and I call it quits. I follow the path a bit more before the smell of smoke invades my nose, different, more pungent than a cigarette. And then-

"Eves."

I turn, scanning the yard behind me for a halo of curls. Nothing. I look back in front of me, making sure to peer into the shadows as well as I can. Nothing.

"Up, baby."

It's teasing, like he is, but my stomach flips anyway. I cast my gaze upwards, towards the roof of one of the many outcroppings of the house, just underneath a window. Farleigh lounges against the tiles, an easy grin on his face and a joint in his hand, gently spewing a trail of smoke.

"How'd you get up there?" I ask.

He points to the window behind him. "But there's some ivy on the side you can probably climb."

It's an invitation in different words, and one that I'm not going to turn down. I drop the remaining bit of my cigarette to the ground, and crush the flame under my flip flop. Stepping off the path, I come around the side of the room, where the ivy sprawls up the wall, almost to the roof. Farleigh watches me tug on the vines with a smile.

"I've climbed that before, it'll hold you." He says.

I grip around the trunk of the vines, and begin to haul myself upward. It's clumsy, and my feet slip against the wall of the house, but I manage to make it up enough to grab Farleigh's hand. With a grunt, he pulls me up the rest of the way, and I climb onto the roof.

He grins, sitting back on his elbows. "Hi."

"Hi." I return, grinning just the same. This close, we speak hardly above a whisper, even though there is no one else to overhear us at this time of the night.

He holds the joint up. "Want some?"

"Sure." I take it from him, and slide it between my lips. The smoke is different from a cigarette, heavier, headier. But good all the same. "That's good." I say, passing it back. "What else is in there?"

"Lavender." Farleigh says.

Silence descends as the high starts to settle in, and I sit back next to Farleigh, and tilt my head to look at him. We just look at each other for a while - maybe thirty seconds, maybe thirty minutes - until he giggles, and then I laugh too. "Sorry," I say between giggles. "I haven't smoked in a while-"

"S'okay." He cuts me off, passing me the joint. "I like it when you laugh."

It might be the most honest thing he's said to me in the month or so that I've known him. I really hope I'm not blushing, or that I can blame it on the high. "Is that why you always look at me after you make a joke?"