Best Friends Forever

7- wren

I was having the time of my life. Away from Taylor, away from Alex, away from anyone who wrecked my head. But that was probably just the amount of alcohol I had drank causing me to forget.

I had spotted Jared a couple times, and he had always caught my eye as if he knew I was staring at him. But I couldn't help it, he was just so gorgeous, which then made me feel the most awful girlfriend ever, betraying Alex like that.

But after Alex had yelled at me in front of a whole crowd of people, those guilt feelings seemed to be pushed aside, and I was furious with him. How dare he humiliate like that, just for behaving like any other stupid girl at this party. I had a good mind to flirt with Jared for the entire party, just to piss him off even more.

My eyes roam over the many faces that are here, searching for Jared. No luck. Definitely no luck, I think to myself, as my eyes lock with Isaac, who's got Hana hanging off of his arm, giggling. I roll my eyes, wanting to avoid a pointless conversation and go drink some more. However, before I can go make my escape, they bound up to me.

"What's up, Wren?" Isaac grins at me. Normally he lifts my spirits, cracking a joke and cheering me up. Drunk Hana, however, is a distraction and I cannot stand it when she clings to him like that, as if I am about to steal him away from her. So I try and shake them off.

"Nothing much," I mutter, searching my mind for an excuse to slip away. I don't need one in the end, as Hana stops giggling and goes quiet,

"I think I'm going to be sick," She states, looking pale. Isaac sighs and rolls his eyes at me.

"Come on then, Han. See you around, Wren!"

"Yeah, see you," I say vaguely, as my eyes have caught the familiar build of Jared. As if he can sense my burning gaze, he turns around and smirks at me from across the room. I feel myself blushing, and take a long gulp from my bottle of wine I had snatched from the kitchen to distract myself, and I could feel Jared make his way closer.

"You've been staring at me all night, Robin."

I look up at the sound of his low voice, puzzled. "My name is Wren," I tell him, brows knitting together. Did I not leave that much of an impression that he can't even remember my name?

He smirks at me again, his pale blue eyes gleaming. I suddenly catch on, and roll my eyes. But inside, I'm pleased. He likes me enough to give me a nickname, which would usually infuriate me if any other guy tried it. Not even Alex has a special name for me, his own girlfriend. But that's probably because he's not the creative type, and the most I get is 'babe'.

Thinking about Alex sparks the guilty feeling, but I push it down. He deserved this.

"Wanna step outside for a minute?" Jared asks me. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and shakes them in front of me tantalisingly. I bite my lip, eyes on the packet. It was one thing to chat inside a party, but another to talk privately. Besides, I had never really smoked before.

I open my mouth to decline his offer, but he seems to sense my hesitation and places his index finger on my lips, stopping me. He then bends down close to my ear, and whispers, "No one has to know."

I hate how his voice sends shivers down my body, and I hate even more that my head nods in agreement, and that I let him take my hand and pull me through the crowd until we're outside on the decking.

It's freezing, so no one is out here, understandably. I am shivering, so Jared silently removes his hoodie and tosses it to me, which I promptly put on and zip right up. He then takes out two cigarettes and a lighter, placing one between his lips and the other between mine. I watch as he cups his hand over the lighter, shielding the flame from the bitter wind, and then takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out expertly with the practice of someone who smoked regularly, for a long time. His gaze flicks to me, and reaches over to light mine. I try to recall how Ethan used to do it, and I take a drag on the cigarette. However, the foreign taste of smoke is too much and I start coughing, fighting the urge to puke. It was a little like breathing underwater, burning my throat.

Jared rolls his eyes at me. "I hadn't pegged you as a beginner, Robin."

I bristle at his bored voice. "I'm sorry that I haven't started the process of dying young," I snap, only causing him to flash his infuriating smirk.

"You've gotta stop wasting it and get it in your lungs," Jared tells me, moving closer towards me, gesturing for me to have another go. I oblige, partly because I don't want to seem like a child, who will give up after the first failed attempt. I also liked his warmth and wanted him to stay this close.

My second go went as bad as the first time, but at the third attempt I had gotten used to the sensation and the taste, and managed to suck in the smoke, taking a deep breath and inhaling the air as normal, combined with the smoke in my mouth.

"I did it!" I squeal excitedly, before toning it down when I realise that I sound annoying. Jared smiles, which seems like the only reply I'll get, as he continues to take long drags on his shrinking cigarette, holding the smoke in his mouth for far too long.

"Do you know why I love smoking?" He asks, gazing out over the lengthy garden, his cigarette butt glowing. I realise then that we had been out here for quite some time, as darkness had enveloped us and I could hardly make out his face. I shook my head even though Jared probably couldn't see, but he took my silence as a sign to carry on.

"The feeling of smoking is...like having your lungs wrapped in a warm blanket. It's an escape, a good feeling, even though you know it's poison," Jared murmurs, pausing to take a deep drag, exhaling the smoke into the air. We both watch the smokey tendrils disappear into the night. "The first draw of a cigarette, thats when the smoker will appreciate the unique flavour of whatever brand they choose. Whiskey also makes the taste one hundred times better," He finishes, then delves into his pocket to produce a bottle of bourbon, grinning.

"Swipe it from the booze table?" I ask him, almost missing the fleeting smug look across his face.

"Actually, no. Henderson would never give up a bottle of his parents' finest whiskey if he wasn't looking for a death sentence. I had to do a bit of detective work," He says, and I raise my eyebrows to tell him to go on. "Lets just say, all the good drinks were left under lock and key."

"How did you unlock it, then?" I ask him, puzzled. He seemed to be enjoying this story.

"All down to the simple things, Oliver," Jared replies, referring to my surname. I briefly wonder how he knows it, but put it out my mind when he pulls out a simple bobby pin.

"You picked the lock. Ingenious."

"You may mock, yet it was still effective," He points out. I roll my eyes, and grab the bourbon from him. He raises his brows as he watches me take a gulp, and I do my best to ignore the burning at the back of my throat. After all, the cigarette was way worse.

I pass it back to him, and he takes a drag on his cigarette, which I am surprised he can still hold without it burning his fingers, before swigging the whiskey.

"How long have you been smoking?" I ask him, and he smirks.

"The trouble with others is that they smoke for the fun of it," He explains, yet ignoring my question. "I smoke, yes for the taste and the sensation, but also something else," He pauses, watching me, the glowing embers of the last of his cigarette lighting up his face. "I smoke to die."