Hunting Sunsets

Thirty

I struggled to stifle the giggle on my lips as I stumbled up the deep wooden stairs of my childhood home. Smith was biting his lower lip behind me, shushing me through his own soft laughter. The toe of my sneakers almost caught on the light tan carpet runner, Smith's hands gripping my hips tightly to keep me from smashing my face on the floor at three in the morning. It reminded me of the time I tripped on his knees pads and almost face planted on his bedroom floor months ago. It was almost insane to think how that was only four months ago but it felt like years.

"If you don't shut up you're going to get caught," his warm breath fanned my skin as he whispered in my ear from behind me, attempting to calm myself after the story Smith had just told me about his mother catching him sneaking back into the house in high school.

"I'm a grown ass adult," I retorted lowly while twisting the silver handle to my door carefully, stepping inside with Smith following behind me.

"No one is a grown ass adult in their parent's house, let alone their immigrant parent's house. We are thirteen as far as they're concerned."

It was hard to argue with that logic.

I lazily slipped my shoes and socks off my feet before flipping the light switch to my room on and heading for the bathroom. It took some digging through the white drawers I hadn't touched in months, but I found a pair of silver nail clippers under hairbrushes and various other forms of ties. "You realize this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't tried to stick your nail between the twists of the chain link fence like a child, right?" Smith asked condescendingly as I clipped the painfully broken nail on my left thumb.

"I get bored; I like to fiddle with things," I shrugged innocently before tossing the nail in a small black trashcan besides the counter and putting the clippers back.

"I know. You chew all your pen tops too."

"I like things in my mouth, especially you," I winked teasingly at the tall setter standing just inside the doorway without even thinking about it.

"You send very mixed signals, you know," Smith acknowledged almost stoicly, suddenly losing his teasing demeanor. The change was harsh, automatically changing the light air to something much sharper and breakable. I could understand it, though. We had sex for months and then I broke it off after my girlfriend left me because I refused to distance myself from Smith. Not only that, but I explicitly told him that I rejected him because of my brother and the fact that we graduated this year, not because I didn't like him. So yeah, I acknowledge that I was in the wrong but it was hard to change the way you act around someone after months.

But maybe the problem is that I didn't want to change.

"You tell me you can't have or don't want me in a romantic or sexual way yet you make comments like that and flirt with me anyway. I'm sorry Maeve, but I'm just really confused about what you want from me because as soon as I learn the rules you change them on me again or break them yourself." Smith almost always looked kind when his pupils met mine, but now I could see the blazing fire in his almost black irises. Frustration was a dangerous thing, and I was flirting with fire willingly.

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't like my own fucking rules?" I asked almost incredulously, growing more agitated by the second without Smith even having to do anything wrong. This was the hole I had dug, and there was nothing worse then having to lay in it. I flipped my red hair behind my shoulders to get it out of my face, a fierce and annoyed spark in my lighter brown eyes.

"Then why do you fucking make them?" Smith asked with bite in his tone, throwing his hands up near his shoulders. "When we were just hooking up, we were happy. Were you not?" My silence was answer enough. "Exactly. So what changed, Maeve? Because sometimes it seems like nothing has but then all the sudden there's walls everywhere and no where to go."