I want to say no, I should say no, I should probably go back inside before I embarrass myself anymore, but the air and the chance to be anywhere but orbiting a happy couple suddenly seems like paradise.
“Yeah, actually yeah, thanks.”
I take the pack, fishing out a cigarette and the lighter inside, and light up. The moment I inhale, the refreshing taste of menthol, the cooling vapor rolling down my throat and into my lungs, makes me feel weightless for the first time all day. Even as I exhale, the coolness continues to spread through my limbs to my fingertips, eliciting an involuntary moan as my eyes close and my neck rolls back.
“Better?” His low tenor voice reverberates through me along the same wave as the menthol, making me suddenly embarrassed by the sound I just made.
“Ohh, uh, yeah.” I blush, handing back the pack and lighter, wondering how many of my stitches and scars he can make out in the dim light of the street lamp. “I’m guessing you work here?”
“Not all the time, just during the summer. My uncle's place.” The man takes another drag off his cigarette. “Though most nights aren’t this exciting.”
I give him a slow blink, trying to make sense of the comment. “Why’s that?”
He smirks at me, like the answer is obvious, and when my expression doesn’t change, he shakes his head. “So, I am guessing you work at the haunted house?”
“Haunted house?”
“Yeah, the one in the parking lot up the road. Not gonna lie, I’m not sure I would run from a sexy Frankenstein.”
“Oh, no, uh.”
His eyes go wide, the bits of his face not covered in hair flushing red with embarrassment. “Oh, oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” It really isn’t fine, too many assumptions in that pickup line to count, but he did just give me a cigarette, so I think I can let it slide.
“No, really, I’m so sorry.” The guy stands up, and only now do I realize how tall he is, going from a hunched-over ball in a branded graphic tee to a towering wall of thick muscle. He looks less like a dishwasher and more like thebouncer. “I should have …it’s my uncle's place, of course, it’s like that.”
“Oh, are you?”
“My uncle is. Werewolf.”
“But not you?”
“Haha, no, not yet. However, he does make me keep this on me.” He pulls a little silver cross out from under his shirt. “Irony is, I’m not Christian, and neither is he.”
“Oh, how does that work?”
“No clue, but it’s easier to buy a silver cross than a silver crescent.”
Something bubbles up inside me, a feeling so foreign it takes me a moment to even realize I’m laughing. A long, deep, uninhibited laugh, and it feels good. When was the last time I laughed like this?
“I’m Manny, by the way. Well, Arman, but my friends call me Manny.” The guy waves his fingers before hiding back behind his cigarette. Oh my god, is he actually nervous?
“Franky,” I finally manage. “My name's Francesca, but my friends call me Franky.”
He gives a warm smile at that. “I like Franky.”
“I like Manny,” I reply with my own smile, a warm awkwardness settling between us.
The tender moment is cut short as his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and then lazily stomps out his cigarette. “Sorry, duty calls. I’ll see you in there?”
My smile grows a little wider. “Yeah.”
He turns to go in, before stopping and looking back at me. “Actually, do you think you’d wanna hang out? Maybe after my shift?”
My mouth opens, an enthusiastic “yes” hanging on my lips, but then the world comes crashing back in on me. The fact that this trip isn’t for me to find a rebound, it’s to get distance, to heal from Chad and stuff I’m still not sure I am ready to talk about. Besides, our night is just starting, and V and Gabby are still waiting for me inside.
“Uh, I wish I could, I just, I’m with my friends, and-”
