Bad Boys

2.

We run from the bald store owner who waves his wrinkled fist at us as he shouts abuse and insults. We laugh at him.

"That was fun," Sylvie slows down and perches herself on the curb, placing the stolen goods on the floor beside her. I sit down too. "He was so mad," She picks up a stolen packet of chips and pops them open, shoving a handful into her mouth. "What'd you get?"

I reveal a crate of beers with a smirk, cracking one open and handing it to her. She thanks me and trades her chips for the beer. "You've done that before, I can tell." She looks from the beer bottle to me, smiling.

"Once or twice back in high school," She shrugs and reaches into her backpack, to take out a cigarette and place it between her pretty pink lips. Even though the sun has set I can still see the glimmer in her baby blues, fuck. She tosses the pack of cigarettes onto my lap and lights her own, I shake my head and throw them back. "What? You don't smoke?"

"No."

She raises her brow but puts the packet away nevertheless. "It's a bad habit I shouldn't have started." She tells me while smoke escapes from between her loose lips. I ask when she started smoking. "When I was thirteen. I found a pack in my dad's car one day and wanted to know why he smoked, so I stole one and almost died from coughing so much," she pauses to laugh at the memory, flicking ash onto the floor carelessly. "But I got used to it and I liked it." She shrugs her shoulders.

She's bad. But in her own little way.

"My grandpa died sometime last year because of them, put me off for life." I tell her. She turns to me with those big blue eyes.

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

WRITER'S NOTE

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